"Etha, c'mon, we have a long day ahead of us." I feel her nudging me.


I suppose I fell into a deeper slumber than I had expected. My body feels as if it has all locked into place, stiff and unwilling to move. A dull ache clings to my limbs, as if the weight of sleep itself hasn't quite lifted. The air inside the tent is warm, thick with the lingering scent of worn fabric and faint traces of sand. I shift slightly, feeling the stiffness in my back protest, and roll over, groaning as my muscles begrudgingly wake with me.


"Do we have to? Come back to bed," I say.


"Etha, you know why we can't just waste time like that." She sighs. "Though I admit, it is a tempting idea," she adds with a laugh.


"But Mia!" I tease.


"Come on now, Etha, we have to keep going." She grins at me.


Every muscle in my body protests as I try to convince myself to move. The warmth of the bed, the lingering haze of sleep, and the quiet comfort of the moment make the thought of leaving unbearable. I know we have to keep moving—she is right—but that doesn't stop me from groaning as I sit up, feeling the weight of exhaustion anchoring me down. She has a point.


I can't help but feel as if we are meant to spend our lives like this when the mission is done. We could retire and spend our lasting days together, much like this. Mia is taking her time getting situated and slowly packing things into their proper places. I try not to think of the bodies we had to bury.


Deep in my heart, I know this is more than just a bond—it's something unbreakable, something that transcends even the closest of friendships. She is the steady force in my life, the one who makes this world feel a little less cruel. Without her, I can’t imagine what my days would be, only that they would be emptier, lonelier, lacking the warmth she effortlessly brings.


Pulling my clothes on is a quick feat, and it's only a few moments before I am helping Mia putter around our tent. She seems content, humming some kind of tune from the Old World. I know she has a fascination with the way our suffering began, but she should probably find another hobby, or we will be hunting down artifacts for the remainder of our lives.


"Hey Mia, would we ever retire?" I ask.


"Well, we can't always be hunting these places down." She sighs. "Though I wish we could," she adds.


This confirms my thoughts. She is happiest when adventure is around the corner, which explains why she doesn't stay in New Boston. I only wish I understood fully. Her parents were like her, so this may be a big deal.


"We'll keep going until we know we can't," I say.


"Thanks, Etha." She says. "Oh, and I think I know where our next campsite is," she adds with excitement.


"Oh?"


"The Predlym." She says with a huge smile. "It's an above-ground ruin of what they called a blimp in the Old World," she explains to me.


"So, let me guess, it's got an excavation team there too?" I ask.


"Yeah, but they have the most direct route to the next city, so we can resupply." She says. "That and they may be interested in this." She holds up a book dusted in the sands of the land.


"What exactly would this be?" I can't help but ask.


"This is the autobiography of Ark Tech's founder." She smiles. "We won't be needing credits anytime soon." She hugs me with a giggle.


"That must be important." I smirk. "Why didn't you tell me back in New Boston?" I ask.


"I like the element of surprise." She says.


The way she moves toward me is deliberate, each step filled with an unspoken promise. When she reaches me, her lips find mine, and in that instant, the world around us fades. A fire ignites within me, spreading through my veins, leaving me breathless. My body trembles, caught between exhilaration and surrender. I am lost in her, in the warmth of her touch, in the quiet but undeniable gravity of this moment. Awe isn't a strong enough word for what I feel.


"No kidding," I say, laughing lightly.


It feels great knowing we are together on the same page. We wouldn't be able to work as a team in any sense of the word if we weren’t. I sigh as we pack camp away, finishing up for the start of the next walking stretch.


"Hey, Mia, I was thinking, wouldn't it be best to travel at night?" I ask.


"Clearly, you've never been out after sundown." She smirks.


"Oh?"


"It's more dangerous because of the Bone Spiders," she explains.


What the hell could that be? I can't help but wonder. We put our equipment away and begin walking, Mia taking point, as she knows where the place to go is, at least roughly. I suppose we can't rely on exact coordinates because the Old World has been missing from existence for some long time now.


"Bone Spiders?" I ask.


"We speculate on how they exist, but long story short, they are almost human-like people who are covered in the bones of their enemies," she says.


"You can't possibly mean they actually clean the bones for armor," I ask.


The heat seems to be worse than yesterday, almost as if the sand itself could turn into glass. I find myself imagining what these spider people look like. It is freaky to think that a being would wear bones for armor. It sends my hairs standing on end. The tingling sensation has me shuddering.


"Well, it's rumored they eat the marrow beforehand," she adds to the information she relays.


We keep talking about these mysterious beasts, and I am both interested and stricken with fear of them all at the same time. I want to know more, but that likely means I would have to put myself and Mia in a direct line of danger.


"Wonder if that's the weird sounds we heard in Old Boston," I speculate.


"It's possible. I haven't seen one face to face to know, but I wouldn't be eager for that encounter." She laughs.


We must have been walking for ages now. The sun has crossed the sky, and it feels like we have made very little distance, although admittedly there has been a lot of idle talk. We simply reminisce on the old days when we only worried about helping my parents with their vendor stall back in Basha. Then it dawns on me.


"You think we ever would go back to Basha?" I ask.


Mia's brows knit together in surprise at my question, as if the thought had never once crossed her mind. A quiet pause lingers between us, filled only by the shifting sands beneath our feet. I watch as her fingers fidget absently with the strap of her pack, her lips parted slightly, searching for an answer she doesn’t seem to have. Have we really never spoken about a future beyond survival? The notion weighs on me, curling in my chest like an unfamiliar warmth. If we could settle somewhere, leave behind the endless chase—would we? Could we? My stomach twists at the uncertainty, at the quiet fear that maybe she doesn't see that kind of life for us at all.


"I don't know. People don't even remember me back there. Most of the friends I had died years ago," she admits.


"With everything that happened, you've got a point. I even thought you were amongst our dead." I say. "I feel that sentiment. Most back home probably assume I died, too," I admit.


"It's sad to think this is what our lives are becoming in this world." She sighs.


I sigh deeply and take a look up to see if we can spot anything yet. The night sky stretches endlessly above us, an ocean of deep indigo scattered with stars that shimmer like fragments of lost worlds. I only see what I think is a mirage. The mirage looks like a large white piece of the moon is sticking from just beyond the horizon line, its glow barely distinguishable from the celestial expanse above. A soft breeze carries the scent of cooling sand, and for a moment, the weight of our journey lifts as I lose myself in the vast, breathtaking emptiness of the sky. I smile.


"It is, but is that thing over there the Predlym?" I ask as I point to the weird object in the distance.


"I don't know." She says.


"Well, let's head there and find out." I smile at her. "You and me, we are gonna make life better here for everyone," I add. "You'll see."


She looks at me rather quizzically as we keep our path to the object on the horizon. I know deep down she wants to change this world—not just to survive in it, but to shape it into something better. She dreams of a time when people don’t have to fight for scraps, when clean water isn’t a privilege but a right. Project Purity—it's more than a myth, more than a lost cause. It could be real, it could be hope, and I know she clings to that possibility like a beacon in the dark. If we could find it, if we could make it work, we wouldn’t just be wandering anymore. We’d have a purpose greater than ourselves.


Over the horizon, coming from the direction of the object, a group of people approach, torches and swords in hand. Their silhouettes grow clearer as they near, revealing armor fashioned from the bones of the dead—bleached white by time and sun, fitted together like a grotesque exoskeleton. Each step they take is accompanied by the eerie clatter of bone against bone, a rattling symphony that sends a primal shiver down my spine. There is an unnatural precision to their movements, a silent coordination that speaks of something far more sinister than simple wanderers in the wastes.


"Etha, wait." She says.


I stop dead in my tracks, my breath catching in my throat. A deep, twisting unease settles in my gut, crawling up my spine like ice. Something is wrong—terribly, unmistakably wrong. My muscles tighten instinctively, my body on the brink of fight or flight. The distant clatter of bone echoes in my ears, an unnatural sound that prickles at the edge of my senses. My pulse quickens. Beside me, Mia stiffens, her fingers flexing near the hilt of her weapon. Her breath is shallow, her eyes scanning the shadows ahead, wide with the same creeping dread that grips me. Every instinct screams at me to move, to run—but I can't. Not yet. Not until I know what we’re up against.


"What?" I jest.


"I see white on their bodies." She actually sounds genuinely concerned.


I look back. She's right. I grab my electric whip and take a deep breath. We may just die tonight.