"no one is coming to save you.

get up."

˖𓍢ִִ໋𓇼⋆

As we began our trek through the city, the sun bore down from high above, casting every stone in stark, hot light. The streets of Sigyn were alive with bustling crowds, the air thick with the scent of spices and the echoes of merchants hawking their wares. I caught sight of some of the townspeople pausing to watch us pass. Their faces were a mix of curiosity and, I suspected, a little bit of envy. How many would ever venture beyond the Wall? My fingers tightened around the edge of the sleigh as I forced myself to sit taller, exuding the strength and confidence they expected from their princess. Their gazes weighed on me like so many heavy stones pressing into my back. I wanted to tell them I felt as unprepared as they did—but of course, I remained silent. I couldn't afford to be anything but the vision of composure.

Hester sat across from me, fussing over her skirts as they caught the occasional gust of sand, her mouth a perpetual line of disapproval at each new speck. Lord Alaric and his men rode in the sleigh ahead of us, his gaze locked on the road. Children ran alongside the sleighs, shouting with excitement as they watched the Sandhorn Drakes move, tails flicking up small clouds of golden dust in their wake.

The sandstone buildings, worn and weathered from centuries, rose like carved giants on either side of the road. Sigyn's architecture had a timeless quality, as though it had always been here, watching over the desert's vastness, unbending. But even these imposing structures, with their intricately carved facades and sun-bleached surfaces, seemed almost insignificant in comparison to what loomed ahead: The Wall.

I leaned forward, shielding my eyes from the sunlight with my hand as I peered up at it. How long had it been since I had seen it so close? It seemed as domineering as ever. A black mark upon Sigyn's face.

The Wall dominated the horizon, an enormous barrier of sandstone that stretched as far as the eye could see, its colors shifting from burnt orange to deep amber in the light. Built from slabs larger than any I'd ever seen, each stone seemed to carry the weight of countless lives and unspoken histories. Ancient etchings and faded reliefs covered the surface, depicting long-forgotten gods and desert animals that had roamed these sands centuries ago. Vines and hardy desert plants crept up the cracks and crevices, a quiet defiance against the relentless heat and dryness.

As we drew closer, the sheer magnitude of the Wall grew ever more staggering. It was a fortress in itself, towering high enough to eclipse even the Sandhorn Drakes. The outer face was pockmarked with small, circular windows set deep within the stone, like dark eyes peering out over the sands, watching and waiting. There were points where the stone had crumbled, weathered away by years of windstorms, but its strength held firm. And in that moment, it felt less like a mere wall and more like a silent guardian of Sigyn.

The Drakes slowed as we reached the shadow of the Wall, where the air cooled slightly, offering a brief respite from the sun's relentless glare. We glided parallel to its path, and I reached to touch the sandstone. Its warmth and rough texture grounded me as it gently scraped against my fingertips, yet I could feel its weight — the separation, the barrier it represented.

We neared the gates, two massive structures that locked together in the middle. They were made of thick metal bars as big around as one of the Sand Drakes' thighs. Each gate was attached to the Wall with three impossibly large, straightforward metal hinges.

Our caravan came to a halt. Ahead, Lord Alaric and Captain Rook hopped out of their respective sleighs and talked to the guards. I frowned, watching them before my attention returned to the people in my sleigh. Muttering about sand, Hester also stood and began to dust herself off. Amused, I smiled as she grumbled, looking like a flustered hen whose feathers had been ruffled.

"Remind me again, Hester, where you hail from?" I asked, head tilting as I looked up at her.

Her thin eyebrows lifted. "Dorn, my lady. Western Dorn, small little village at the base of the mountains there."

I hummed, nodding as I returned to look out at the gates. Lord Alaric and Captain Rook returned to the sleighs, and a great whining filled the air as the gates shifted on their hinges. Dust shifted and fell off the bards in great sheets, raining down upon the fabric over our heads. The sleighs jerked to a start, then smoothed out as the drakes found their pace. Their hissing and deep breathing soon mingled with the sounds of their feet padding against the sand.

"You are not used to our hot weather, are you, then?" I held my hands in my lap, squinting against the warmth that baked my skin.

Hester chuckled, shaking her head. "No, my lady. Even after all these years, I don't think I could ever get used to this dry heat."

"Tell me about Dorn. Of course, I have read about it in my lesson books, but you have been there."

A wistful look misted over her eyes, a soft smile rounding her mouth as she sighed. "Oh, aye. Dorn is a land of fae and sprites. So many strange creatures of the spirit dwell among the pines and moors. Not like here. Not these scaled beasts who hunt you or the giant scorpions of the greater deserts. No. Dorn has a...a mystical touch to it, aye. Almost as if you could get lost just by standing still." She heaved a sigh, looking down at her weathered hands. "I miss it so. Raining. Always raining. It's very rare to see a sunny day in Dorn. Not like here. No. The sun always seems to be awake here."

Listening to her talk, the lilt in her voice growing thicker the longer she went on, my heartstrings tugged. I frowned slightly. "Will you ever return?"

At that moment, a great shadow loomed over us as we began to pass underneath The Wall. The sun, cut off by the great stones, went out. Immediately, there was a temperature change. I couldn't help but shiver at the sudden change, eyes drawn skyward. Shaking myself loose, I dropped my attention back to Hester.

She stopped, a slight frown creating a crease between her eyebrows. A sigh left her, and she reached over to pat my hands. "I don't think so, my lady. My place is here with you now."

She withdrew her hands then, gave me one final smile as if to tell me everything was all right, and turned to busy herself staring out the side of the sleigh. A small part of me worried I had triggered painful memories. How long had she been gone from Dorn? Had she willingly parted from her home, or had it not been a matter of choice?

Passing through the massive iron gates of the Wall, the world on the other side stretched open like an empty, bleached canvas. The city of Sigyn, with its markets and people, faded quickly behind us, swallowed whole by that unyielding barrier. Ahead, the desert wasteland lay vast and stark, silent in an almost unsettling way. Only the winds dared to speak here, their whispers carrying sand in swirling, dancing eddies that faded as quickly as they formed.

The landscape was raw and untamed, a harsh expanse of bone-white sands and craggy outcrops. Dunes rose and fell like a frozen sea, their smooth crests shimmering beneath the unrelenting sun. Occasional stretches of broken, barren ground interrupted the dunes, littered with sun-bleached bones from creatures long gone, brittle shards of pottery, and fragments of stone that looked like they'd been here for centuries. I caught sight of what looked like an old wagon wheel, half-buried and forgotten, a silent relic from some ill-fated journey.

As we trekked further, the air seemed to shift, heavy with heat that made everything quiver in the distance. The horizon blurred, creating strange, shimmering mirages — dark shapes flickered like distant figures before melting into the sands. The only real movement came from our Sandhorn Drakes, their powerful limbs slicing through the desert, their scales catching the sunlight in brilliant flashes. Their heads were raised, noses angled into the wind as if they were searching for something only they could sense.

All twisted and low to the ground, the occasional scrub plant clawed up from the earth like a stubborn survivor, brittle and defiant. And yet, there was beauty here, too — the pale blues and pinks of the desert flowers that bloomed even in this desolation, their petals soft against the starkness around them. They seemed almost out of place, delicate things amidst a world of survival, but they held fast, somehow.

Hours passed in a surreal haze, the air growing thicker and drier. My throat ached, and every breath tasted of dust. I glanced back just once and saw the Wall, a distant line of stone cutting through the landscape, now barely a mark against the endless sands. In this wasteland, its presence felt less oppressive and more comforting, as if it were a tether to a world I was leaving behind.

Ahead, there was a glint on the far horizon — a slim, bright line that shimmered like water, though I knew better than to trust it. The desert held its secrets closely, disguising them in tricks of light and whispers of heat. The harbor awaited us somewhere beyond that distant mirage, at the very edge of Sigyn's realm. I tightened my grip on the edge of my seat, feeling the weight of the journey settle heavily on my shoulders, yet somewhere within that weight was also a thrill — a sense that I was finally stepping into a world I'd only heard of in stories.

Only a few spoke here and there. The caravan stopped occasionally to allow people to stretch their limbs, exhausted from the long journey. The sun was beginning to set over the mesas in the distance, shooting rays of gold and red across the darkening sky. All was quiet.

Stars began to twinkle above our heads as we pressed further on. The cool night air, so much cooler than the day's heat, made goosebumps rise on my arms. I pulled a delicate shawl over my head and around my shoulders, hugging it to my frame as I tried to sleep in the ever-jolting sleigh.

I was startled to life by gentle hands shaking my shoulders. When had I drifted off? I blinked, weary, eyes filled with the sand of sleep. Rubbing my eyes, I frowned.

"Yes, yes. What is it?"

Hester hugged me tightly, like a proud grandmother showing off her favorite grandchild, and pointed to the side. "Look, there, deary. Arhalas. The harbor city. We made it."

Anxiety shot through me. We were here. I sat upright, instantly awake, and leaned over the side of the sleigh—the Last Haven. I could only stare in awe and silent worry. As our caravan crested the final hill, Ahralas unfolded below us, bathed in the silver wash of moonlight. The harbor lay nestled against the darkened waves as if cradled by the cliffside, an oasis of human creation at the edge of the unyielding desert.

The buildings of Ahralas seemed to grow out of the earth, their sandstone walls carved and shaped by generations of hands into smooth, sweeping curves. They rose tiered along the cliffs, each level cascading toward the sea, glowing faintly under the moon's cold gaze. Patterns of ancient etchings traced over the walls, symbols that I didn't fully understand yet felt deeply—a history etched in every archway, every wall that caught the light. They stood as silent witnesses to the countless journeys that had begun or ended in this place, their walls as weathered and knowing as the desert itself.

The harbor was quiet, most of the dockhands and traders long retired for the night, yet a few lanterns flickered near the docks where ships bobbed in the dark, their outlines stark against the horizon. Here and there, I caught glimpses of rigging swaying with the night breeze, ropes creaking in the quiet—a lullaby for those adrift at sea. Small boats drifted at anchor, tethered with thick ropes that stretched taut like spiderwebs over the water, their shadows mirrored in the inky waves. Even in the stillness, the smell of salt lingered thick in the air, blending with the faint, earthy scent of desert wind.

Along the shoreline, pillars of stone stood like ancient guardians, weathered by centuries of wind and salt spray, marking the boundary where land met the restless sea. I imagined those pillars had watched over Ahralas for as long as the desert had stretched before them, a testament to the strength of Sigyn's people to survive against the vast and unforgiving landscape. Farther along the docks, a single torch flickered, illuminating a small, almost hidden path down toward the water. The faint murmuring of voices drifted up to us—perhaps dockworkers or sailors keeping late watch.

As our caravan inched closer, the Sandhorn Drakes began to stir. They lifted their massive heads and sniffed the salt-heavy breeze, sensing the shift from desert to sea. One of them let out a low rumble as if even these beasts, forged by the desert sands, could feel the quiet gravity of this place.

We moved down the slope toward Ahralas, thewheels of our sand sleighs crunching over packed earth and stones. As Iwatched, I felt a swell of anticipation build within me. This was a place of beginnings and endings. As I looked out at the dark stretch of water beyond for the first time, I wondered what kind of journey truly awaited me.