The footsteps leave an print behind on the sandy road. The ways of the traveller can be traced al the way back to Athens. Not like anyone would do it, nobody out here has the energy to do such useless things. The energy people used to have is gone, ever since the Olympus fell.

The traveller, to whom the footsteps belong, looks up, and tries to remove the dust sticking to their face. Not like it would help. The dust is everywhere. Their throat is dry, all the life feels like it's sucked out of them.

A small shack is visible when the traveller looks around and notices the dry, dusty landscape. The sun burns on their head, and in an attempt to save their skin from bursting in to flames, they walk towards the small house.

A female dressed in a simple dress and long, blonde hair walks towards them and invites them inside.

The shack looks a lot more inviting at the inside, than it did outside. There are three chairs, a small stove, a bed, and a table. She sits down, and so does the traveller. They have questions, but none will be answered soon. Instead, the woman introduces herself.

"Welcome, I am Maia, and I used to be one of the followers of Artemis. Stay here, and I'll tell you about the history that once was mine." The woman starts, her words vague, like a mystery to be uncovered.

The traveller looks around more, and notices a shiny artifact on the table. May notices, and shakes her head.

"Not now, first, you'll have to rest." She says.