His legs barely moved.
Each step sank into the black sand, dragging more than lifting. His breath came in ragged pulls, loud and raw in the empty night. Sweat no longer came—his body had run dry hours ago. His tongue felt swollen, glued to the roof of his mouth.
Lucas's vision swam.
The sky above never changed—still that cursed shade of violet, still the moon hanging like an executioner's eye.
Time didn't exist in The Crucible. Only suffering.
He stumbled, caught himself, and kept walking.
Every part of him ached. His chest, still bruised from the scorpion's blow, throbbed with each breath. The armor plate across his ribs felt like a cage now, trapping heat against his skin. His lips were cracked. Bleeding. His feet, already torn from days of walking, left red smudges in the sand.
He couldn't stop.
But he needed to.
Eventually, he collapsed against a jagged rock, panting, shoulders rising and falling like he'd just outrun death.
His head lolled back.
'Just a minute. Just one...'
He closed his eyes.
The silence deepened.
Then, behind his eyes—movement.
He opened them instantly, blinking, breath caught.
Atop the nearest dune, silhouetted against the violet sky, stood a figure.
Tall. Thin. Encased in a long, black cloak that moved without wind.
Its face was hidden beneath a shadowed hood.
But he saw the shape it held.
A scythe.
Its blade long, curved, and darker than anything else in this cursed place.
It didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't breathe.
It watched.
Lucas's heart slammed against his ribs.
He looked again.
Gone.
The dune was empty.
He was alone.
But the cold in his bones said otherwise.
He forced himself to his feet, stumbling forward, legs trembling.
'I'm not dying here.'
He staggered into the darkness, eyes wide and alert.
"I'm not falling asleep. I have to keep going."
The sand blurred beneath his feet.
Lucas had no idea how much time had passed since he saw the figure on the dune. It could've been seconds, minutes—or hours. Everything was bleeding together now, like someone had smeared his thoughts across shattered glass.
Then, something caught his eye.
A flicker of color—not sand.
He stopped.
Half-buried in a shallow dip between two dunes was a plant. Gnarled, dark, its base twisted like scorched bone. Its surface pulsed faintly with a dull violet light, and it was surrounded by small stones that looked… burnt.
Lucas knelt beside it, weak knees buckling.
The plant had a bulb—a swollen, veined pod the size of his hand. Translucent skin stretched tight around something liquid inside. The color was deep crimson with black threads swirling through it.
His hand trembled as he reached out.
He pressed a thumb into the side of the bulb. It split open with a wet pop, and the liquid dribbled down in thick strands.
It smelled like iron and fire.
He stared at it.
It looked like blood.
He hesitated.
Then cupped his hand under the leaking juice—and drank.
The taste was sharp. Metallic. Heavy. Like sucking on rusted nails. It burned down his throat and settled in his stomach like a stone.
But within seconds… he felt it.
Relief.
Not full. Not healing.
But enough.
The dizziness faded a little. His legs stopped shaking. His breath came easier.
He opened his eyes fully for the first time in hours.
He wiped his mouth, breathing hard, and stared at the half-split pod.
'That's disgusting. But it works.'
He pulled off another pod, wrapped it gently in a piece of fabric torn from his old coat, and tied it to his waist.
Then stood again.
Still in pain. Still exhausted.
But alive.
And moving.
Lucas found a small hollow between two dunes. Not shelter, but enough to hide from the open wind. He dropped to his knees, then sat with his back against the slope.
His body ached.
But his stomach didn't claw at him anymore, and his pulse had calmed.
The warmth from the plant's liquid still burned faintly in his core. Not comforting—more like a furnace running too hot—but it was better than freezing.
He let his eyes close.
Just for a second.
Just long enough to breathe.
Silence.
Stillness.
Then the air shifted.
His eyelids fluttered.
Something was there.
He opened his eyes—and froze.
It was closer now.
The same figure.
No longer atop a far-off dune. It stood twenty steps away, half-sunken in the sand. Same black cloak. Same towering silhouette. Same enormous scythe resting against one bony shoulder.
But now, he could feel it.
A pressure in the air. Like the world was holding its breath.
Its hood faced him.
Lucas couldn't see a face. Just shadow.
But he felt its gaze. Heavy. Absolute.
His blood turned to ice.
He blinked—hard.
And it vanished.
No footprints. No sound. Just empty sand.
He gasped, shivering despite the heat crawling under his skin.
'It's getting closer.'
He forced himself up, hands trembling.
His legs didn't want to move. His chest burned with each breath. But the fear—
That was stronger.
He started walking again.
No time to rest.
No time to think.
His steps were uneven.
Each one took more from him than the last. The sand seemed deeper now, like it was swallowing him with every movement.
Lucas stumbled. Fell to one knee.
He groaned and leaned forward, forehead nearly touching the ground. His eyes closed, just for a heartbeat.
And there it was again.
Closer.
The figure stood just ten steps away now.
Same cloak. Same scythe.
But now he could see the aura that pulsed around it—black mist swirling like a storm trapped in slow motion. The sand beneath it didn't move. The air around it felt dead.
Lucas's breath caught.
'No—'
He forced his eyes open and scrambled to his feet, hands digging into the sand for leverage. He ran.
Didn't look back.
Didn't want to know if it was still there.
Every few minutes, his legs buckled.
Every time he tried to stop—
Tried to rest—
Tried to breathe—
The Shadow was there.
Watching. Waiting.
Not attacking. Not speaking.
Just… waiting.
Lucas's thoughts shattered into instinct. Survival. Fear. The pulse in his chest roared louder now, out of sync with his heartbeat.
He crested a small dune.
And finally saw it again.
The tower.
Still distant. Still unreachable.
But now it wasn't a goal.
It was the only thing between him and what waited in the dunes.
He stumbled forward.
One step.
Another.
Fell.
Crawled.
Got up.
His mind screamed to stop.
His body begged to collapse.
But he kept moving.
Because he knew—
"I'm not falling asleep. I have to keep going."