Outside the barrier, Ashura Deadlands was a desert blighted by sandstorms. Inside, it was a forest overrun by fungi. That wasn’t the most surprising feature of Ashura Deadlands though. It was the rows of slums scattered close to the barrier, hunched together like seaside rocks. Miasma rolled and weaved around the village in thick tendrils of fog.

Clara tightened her grip on the knife at her hip. The difference was unnerving. She had this sudden feeling of being lost, of being unable to distinguish between reality and illusion. She glanced eastward, wondering if there really was a sandstorm brewing out there.  

“Where the hell are we?” Rai asked, walking ahead of them.

“Ashura Deadlands, dimwit,” said Tamer.

“I don’t recall there was any mention of a village here,” Eryx said, pausing over a patchwork of toadstools. “Why would anyone live here?”

No one had an answer and so they followed the sharp curve of a dirt path, walking between wooden shacks in various states of disrepair. Occasionally, Tamer would peer at a window and sniff or bend on the roads in search of tracks.

“It’s empty,” Tamer said. “There’s no one here.”

“What about the seal?” Clara asked.

“Find a tree with thorny fruits,” he said.

Well, that wasn’t helpful. The entire village was filled with plantlife. A light breeze sighed over the slums. It reminded Clara of the keening sounds she'd heard inside the coliseum in Nazim. Pollen grains fluttered in the air like snowflakes, sticking to her suit. A pale figure of a woman appeared from the mist and then another and another. Amidst them, Clara saw strange birds and four-legged creatures, their feet hovering just above the ground.

Aiming a hand at the largest group of ghosts, she sent a blast of magical energy. “Leave us!”

They scuttled away like street rats, some vanishing on the spot. When she shifted her attention to the men, she noticed Rai was gone. He came out of a small hut, the roof partly ruined by giant lichens. There was a beaded necklace in his left hand. He went to the next shack and the next and each time, he carried a necklace similar to the one he’d held before.

Concerned, they followed him into the fourth shack and found Rai holding a staff. He examined it with great care. Clara noticed it was made of copper with various symbols engraved on the handle. A green crystal in the shape of a crescent moon was attached to its tip.

“The necklace…the staff...These are my people,” he said. There was a heaviness to his voice as if it pained him to admit it. “I found them in the shacks. These—” he shook the necklaces in his grip—“are passed on from mother to daughter. Daughter to granddaughter.” He gave the staff to Tamer. “And that belongs to the head of the family as proof of leadership.”

“We can’t be sure of this, Rai,” Tamer said.

“Remember the tale of the lost tribe?” He splayed his palms flat against the table, a small tremble in his shoulders.  “All this time, they were here.”

It all made sense to her now. The villagers were Shima. Another realization probed at Clara’s mind. Why would the king put up a barrier when he knew there were people living in Ashura? Was it just to contain the toxins from spreading out or was there something more to it?

“Did you know about this?” Rai asked, confirming her suspicions. “Did you?”

“No.” Tamer said, shaking his head. “My father never spoke to me about politics. I was too young.”

Rai picked a pot from the table and threw it at the wall in fury. It clattered on the mud floor in broken pieces. “Why were they here? Why?”

Clara could feel his anger. She’d be furious too if she found out her own people had been trapped in Ashura Deadlands. She feared the Shima villagers might be the ghosts they had seen. Locking that thought into the back of her mind, she focused on hope – hope that the villagers were alive.

 “Don’t you see?” Rai dropped the staff on the table. “They wouldn’t live here by choice!”

“We don’t know that,” Tamer said, shaking his head. “Maybe they’re immune.”

Rai gave a bitter laugh and when he spoke in Shimian, there was nothing but hate in his voice. Tamer shook his head more fiercely. He crossed his arms over his chest and straightened his back, a clear gesture he wasn’t pleased with Rai’s comment. They started arguing.

“Let’s search the house. We might find some clues as to the villagers’ whereabouts,” Eryx said to her.

“What about them?” she asked, shifting her gaze between Tamer and Rai. “Make them stop.”

“Let them be.” He turned to a narrow wooden door.  “They’ll resolve their differences on their own.”

“I’ve never seen Rai act like that,” she said, keeping close behind him.

“The Shima are very protective of each other.” Pulling back a frayed curtain, Eryx studied the tiny bedroom, taking note of the furniture made of some rope material and the meagre personal belongings dumped in the corner. “I’ll check the next house. Keep looking for the seal too.”

Clara was left alone in the room. She stayed away from the black algae blanketing the walls, choosing instead, to stand in the center of the room. Things hadn’t turned out as they had expected. They had no clue where the seal was hidden. Tamer’s vision hadn’t exactly been helpful this time and the presence of a village in a land thought to be devoid of life had been too much of a shock to them. 

A soft whimper came from outside. Surprised, Clara poked her head out of the window and listened. The sounds emanated from the back of the house. She cast a worried glance at the door. Tamer and Rai were still arguing in Shimian, their voices clipped and harsh.

Climbing on the rickety stool beside the window, she jumped over the sill and landed outside. The whimpering had turned to unmelodious humming. It sounded human as if someone and not something was out there.

She rounded a corner, cringing as a ghost passed through her, head bowed and hands hiding its ashen face. It seemed some of the ghosts had returned. She just hoped they wouldn’t bother Tamer anymore.

“Is anyone out there?” she called. There was no one at the back of the house but she spotted indentations on the ground – a pair of footprints leading to an alley. She followed the trail, her magic at the ready. “Hello?”

The alley opened into a small patch of ground with rows of wild fruits. Fungi had slithered in from the edges of the small farm, infesting the few fruits that had survived. The others had already succumbed to the black algae, dried and lifeless. Underneath a giant red mushroom was a small figure with blond hair.

A villager!

Rai had been right. The girl was a Shima. She couldn’t have been older than fourteen. Her skin was stained with dirt, her baggy dress torn at the hem. She wore no shoes for her clawed toes dug into the mud. She rocked back and forth, humming to herself. Clara felt a wrench in her stomach so strong, she clenched her fists. Here was a child who was exposed to the harsh climate and deadly toxins. How could the king allow this? How could he let his people suffer in such cruel conditions?

“Are you all right?” she asked, walking slowly towards the girl. She didn’t want to scare her away. “Can you understand me?”

The girl stopped humming and lifted her face from her knees. Clara inched closer, her hand extended before she let it fall to her side. She wasn’t certain if it was safe to touch the girl so she stopped a few feet away and knelt down.

“I won’t hurt—”

Air was pushed out of her lungs as she fell on her back. Clara’s head hit the soft padding of the helmet. There was a crushing weight on top of her chest. The girl had attacked her, clinging to her like leech on flesh. She clamped her hands around Clara’s throat, strangling her. Clara clawed at the girl’s grip, trying to wrestle free. The girl was too strong.

It happened too fast. One moment she was struggling to breathe and in the next, the girl had taken off the helmet and thrown it away. Toxic air, putrid and suffocating, struck Clara’s senses. She felt it burn its way down her throat, poisoning her lungs. She felt it bite into her face, irritating her skin.

The girl pressed the pads of her fingers over Clara’s head, a snakelike smile disfiguring her features. Tamer hovered over Clara’s view. He dragged the girl away who screamed at the sight of him, the sound ringing through Clara’s ears. Twisting her arm free, the girl backed away from him, hiding behind the mushroom grove, terror prominent on her face as she stared at Tamer.

Hands shaking, Clara placed her palms over her nose and mouth, restricting her breathing even though her lungs screamed for air. She was poisoned, contaminated. Fear nipped at her insides.

Tamer helped her sit. He picked up the helmet, put it back on her head and fastened the straps in place.

“You’ll be fine, Clara.” He trailed his fingers over her visor, wiping off dust. “You’ll be fine.”

She didn’t mention it when she heard his sharp breathing made mechanical by the air system on the suit or the slight tremor in his voice her enhanced hearing had picked up. How long would it take before the symptoms manifested themselves? Would she become like the little girl, hostile and insane or would something much worse happen to her? How much time did she have before it was too late?

Fear. It was messing with her mind. She had to stay strong, relentless. She had to survive. Standing up, she glowered at the girl. Before she could confront her, a silhouette darted through the foliage. Clara’s ears picked up the swish of clothing against the leaves, the crunch of sand under feet. Another shadow slipped between the hulking mushrooms and another one followed it.

“Do you see that?” she said to Tamer.

He wasn’t looking let alone listening to her. He stood frozen, his hands splayed to his helmet as if a headache tormented him. He mumbled something under his breath but she couldn’t hear him.

Clara shook his shoulder. “Tamer?”

The strange girl walked out of her hiding spot, a sneer on her face. She pulled up her long dress to her knees, shook it with her fingers as if to dust it off. Felicinite shards fell at the girl’s feet, dozens of them tied to a string. Clara’s eyes widened when she recognized the glowing symbols.

Then the world turned black.