"Huh?!" Isak turned.

"Watch out for the fucking rocks, my head hurts!"

"Ingo..." Genni muttered.

Isak giggled. "Make sure to tread over every rock you find!" he turned to Leopold, who only shook his head. "...and as for you, angry brat, I'll make sure it hurts a thousandfold often if it's the only thing you can complain about."

Ingo ground his teeth, furrowing his brow, turning his head towards Isak's sharp, pointy finger. Then again, the demon didn't do anything. As much as he'd find pleasure in causing any human pain, one swift glance from Leopold reminded him of their goal, and half of its requirements were already accomplished.

"Wasn't there more of you?" Isak asked, turning to Morio. "I remember. That glassy-eyed brat, the Paladian and that half-demon."

"H-Half-demon?" Genni whispered, as Morio looked back at Isak, and didn't answer.

"What? You're suddenly a tough cookie? Do you think that a firm face makes you look braver?" Isak laughed. "They're dead, aren't they?"

Morio furrowed his eyebrows.

"Too weak to even find you before we did!"

Morio turned his gaze away, right as the wagon stopped. Ingo tried to take a peek outside, while Genni only gulped through a few tears.

"We're here. Get the cloth." Leopold muttered.

Isak smirked lightly, before pulling something out of a bag that hung off the cage. Surely enough, a large sheet of linen covered the wagon, denying the Morians from seeing anything.

Again, Ingo thrashed, followed by a few unsuccessful swear words, but the sounds of the Demons' footsteps fading further away suggested his struggles were futile.

Morio breathed in, huffing out.

"Damn it," Ingo uttered, shaking his head. "What is going on, eh?"

Genni gulped.

"I know Genni's not going to tell me but you know something Morio." Ingo scoffed. "Were you planning to backstab us all along?"

"I would never." Morio raised his voice, breathing in. "Why would I want any of this to happen?"

"He mentioned Jyuzou," Genni uttered. "Morio's not at fault."

"Then who is?" Ingo asked.

"No one!" Genni added.

"Do you want me to repeat myself a hundred times?" Morio asked. "That demon killed my friend in Magna." he gulped. "He wanted me to die ever since as well."

"...and you coincidentally dragged us into something only you're concerned with." Ingo ground his teeth. "Great."

"It's not his fault!" Genni yelled out.

"It is," Morio muttered. "The second I woke up Isak threatened to stab my eye out if I didn't tell them about the others. I led them to the gambling hall because I was afraid." he shook his head.

"Then you're willingly admitting that it's for your stupidity that we're here," Ingo uttered. "Maybe the things you spout are right. Maybe you are as weak as you convince yourself to be all along."

Morio gulped in disbelief. "What does that have to do with anything?!" he yelled out. "I'm sorry that it happened-"

"Don't be. We'd chase to find you if they were to take you away." Genni turned to him.

"Speak for yourself, Genni. I knew never to trust you, Frisks." Ingo scoffed. "The weakest always drag the strongest down."

Ingo's foot slid across to the other side of the cart and hit Morio's shin.

Morio wanted to punch him in return, but only breathed out, closing his eyes. He looked up at the ceiling, feeling his hot breath permeating the air that constantly grew warmer with each second passed.

He opened his eyes again. The sight of the white willow appeared somewhere in the back of his mind.

Leopold stopped treading along right as the cart faded out of view. He turned, before utilizing his Los-Los Hammer to strike at the sand. Just as he calculated, he hit a solid hidden deep beneath the yellow dunes, as something cracked.

Isak stepped closer. "Huh?"

Leopold dropped the hammer to the ground. "You ever heard of the Shaiti Temple?" he asked.

"No." he rolled his eye.

"It's... quite the witchtale, although the witch part is heavily accented. There used to be a town right where we're standing."

"Really?" Isak glanced around. "Nothing suggests it. Even Halesdeep had traces."

"It's not because it was ruined, but rather, sunk in the sand. Its people used to sacrifice certain goods to a witch named Shaiti. In turn, she'd bring back a great fortune, erect a nearby river with her hands, and even rumours arose of her finding one of the seven grottos." he shrugged. "I'm sure she had no bad intentions, but she bit more than she could chew. Minute sacrifices such as sums of money or local fruits eventually turned into voting the worst Haran out of the bunch, killing them and offering their body for Shaiti."

"Oh, damn." Isak scratched his head, as Leopold took a few steps forward, crouching and leaning on his knee.

"The humans here were consumed with greed, and the witch who lived alongside them adapted. When an illness overcomes witches, something changes inside of their heart." Leopold turned to Isak. "As a massive sandstorm consumed the whereabouts of the town, Shaiti herself turned back to the temple, begging for more offerings to save its people. In turn, all of their deaths fueled something so brutal, that she fused with the pillars of her shrine. She wanted to save her people to retain that greed, but consumed all of them with their powers."

Isak squinted.

Leopold stood up. "Ever since there have been no sandstorms in this region of Sap Dog, but the town, as well as its legacy, disappeared overnight." he tapped the ground with his foot, before reaching into the desert.

"Quite the story, then." Isak folded his arms. "Glad that demons don't have problems like these puny humans." he chuckled, before glancing back at Leopold.

As the sand flew down, Leopold managed to unearth something hidden inside the casket. Soon enough, a big, round shield appeared in his hands.

Isak tilted his head again, taking another step forward. "What's that?"

Leopold turned to him.

"I know of someplace," Shi Hon whispered. "Back in the Second War, a young soldier carried what one would call an Ancient Shield, Terpsichore. Put it bluntly, an extremely powerful weapon of those olden times. I remember seeing his demise, through my anger." he huffed. "The sand absorbed him in the Shaiti Temple, alongside his equipment. It's a hunch, but as humans have bad ones, you might find yourself wielding a powerful item."

"Shi Hon said it's supposed to help us," Leopold muttered. "But considering we already did what we could, I don't think this will be needed."

"Are you going to discard it?" Isak asked.

"Do you want it instead?"

"I already have Morio's weapon. I'd be damned not to try and use the thing that stabbed my eye out." he shook his head.

Leopold took a step forward, putting the shield in the other hand. As the sand started sliding down, something in the distance eventually rose.

The faraway silhouettes of the canyon changed into dunes rapidly moving in, with something that resembled a burning, black fire.

"Hold that thought about the shield," Isak muttered, squinting his eyes. "Something's on the rise." he grinned.

***

Another day began with the spotless sky shining the sunlight onto Rowan's face. Although all the birds surrounding the dunes sang the prettiest of melodies, the warmth itself was one utterly furious reason to wake up.

After a few bites of their fruits and a stretch here and there, Rowan turned to where the river turned south, and the steppes led uphill. They felt empty, at that very second. Coming back to yesterday's thoughts didn't reveal fury, but strange apathy.

What was the point in constant, neverending pain?

Why would anything change today?

Alas, the compass' hands started trembling, almost spinning out from beneath the glass. It changed directions and pointed towards the desert they were staring at.

"Did Ambrosia move?" they asked themself, again, glancing up with a gulp. The nearest village was far away, so the only logical thing they could do was continue travelling until finding something.

The steppes and the rich nature of the surrounding area quickly turned into the bland landscape of the Sap Dog Desert, stretching across miles towards nothing particular in the distance. Rowan couldn't necessarily complain, though.

The arrow pointed forward, and that's precisely where they went. Their feet were still tired from yesterday's stroll, and their hands were weak from the things they had to fight through. Except for Alfredo, Rowan was sure no one else was killed, so it's either that the beastmen were going to kill them, or their exhaustion would eventually punch back.

In the face of the shaky truth, nothing seemed to matter anymore. The goal that kept them going from the beginning seemed to be of no sense. Rowan was on the verge of giving up after the deaths of his Tributal comrades, but a small glimmer of hope led them through Lignoria and into the desert.

But if it wasn't too late, Ambrosia surely wouldn't be the same person. What hope would they even be holding onto? It could be compared to going to war despite knowing the outcome.

The curse wouldn't be lifted.

The trance of these thoughts was only broken by the compass suddenly making a strange noise.

Rowan glanced down, seeing as the arrow violently shook, grinding against the outer edges. It pointed towards dunes moving in the distance.

They couldn't take a good look at them before they were soon to reach them, and that's exactly when the compass started vibrating, quickly jumping out of their grasp.

Their eyes shrunk, and their hands immediately landed on the bow and arrow, ready to shoot. Two seconds later, the bolt flew out with a warm, fiery embrace, and as the dune settled towards them, it disappeared with a cloud of dust.

They closed their eyes for a second, coughing out before brushing the excess sand off.

They trod forward, ready to pick up their arrow, ducking down.

It wouldn't budge.

Another tug and nothing happened, Rowan furrowed one eyebrow, breathing in.

They pulled harder than before, but alas, no luck.

A whisper sounded from behind Rowan, who turned, only for no one to meet them.

The Tributal stood, alerted, dragging another arrow out of the quiver, pulling as its fire lit up at the tip. "Who's there?" they asked, only for a sound to suddenly come crashing out of nowhere, much like another dune that pushed Rowan further towards the ground.

As the wind swept it away, followed by another cough, Rowan turned, only to see the sand forming into spider-like, massive legs much like a water fountain, spraying at the top of someone's figure.

As Rowan's eyes focused, their heart skipped a beat, with a silhouette atop, bearing ginger hair, and a massive grin that went alongside their beard.

It must've been him. That damned Tributal.

Rowan's shaky eyes shrunk, as anger permeated through their bones and forced them to stand up.

Winds picked up, left and right. More of the tiny golden seeds flew up and down, attacking Rowan's angered face or ripping holes in their clothes.

They didn't seem to care though.

"Where the hell is Ambrosia?!" they yelled, holding the arrow as tightly as possible.

The Tributal chuckled, as all of the legs below its body shifted into bones, tightly clenched together and moving towards the figure, piercing through the ground itself. Rowan shook from the impact but faced their opponent.

"Right with their Chicho," he answered.

Rowan breathed in, as no matter how hard they squinted their eyes, they couldn't see his face.

"Did you hear me? RIGHT WITH THEIR CHICHO!" The Tributal repeated, his voice echoing all across the desert, sending another dune Rowan's way, but they protected themselves, as a fire that lit up at the end of the arrow pushed all of the sand away.

Then, a sound came from below the shaky ground. With wave-like noises, more gold moved down from right below the Tributal, revealing sets of sharp bones digging across and creating a cross right in the middle. With the last prong of the white calcium, something stuck out in the very middle, piercing through one's heart.

Rowan's silhouette was trembling. Not with fear, but with something else. They wanted to shout, they wanted to scream, they even thought about crying. Just like back then, they chose none.

They doubted death. The one who's cursed wouldn't rest there either.

Maybe there was a reason for the world to treat them that way, but Rowan had no way of knowing.

It was Ambrosia hanging off the pale bones, hands stuck up to the sides, head flaunted towards the ground.

They didn't budge.

They wouldn't hear Rowan's pleas, as if they could reach their hand out and ask for help.

As if they could fix what was broken.

Through grounded teeth, Rowan flung their bow and arrow forward, leaving only their clenched fists intact.

The Tributal's eyes shrunk, as Rowan's hand moved across their face.

It revealed a burning passion, in the form of one broken glass, unearthing a red eye that quickly turned into pure, black flames.

At this point, there was no holding back.

Ambrosia didn't deserve this.

Rowan screamed out, as the flames engulfed them. Soon, they leapt forward, and into the storm created around Ambrosia's corpse.

Even... if there was nothing to fight for.