The morning heat smothers the tent before I even open my eyes, a stifling embrace that makes every movement feel sluggish. Mia groans as she shifts, and I echo the sentiment, unwilling to leave the small comfort of rest. But the Badlands don’t wait for anyone. The sun rises, and with it, the relentless heat that will follow us all day.


"Ugh, I hate hot days," she grumbles, rolling out of bed.


I slip into my clothes at the same time she does, a silent agreement ensuring neither of us does anything questionable. We are adults, but there are unspoken rules between us. This feels like one of them. In the quiet routine of it all, there's a trust—unspoken, but deeply rooted. I know she won’t cross any lines, just as she knows I won’t either. It’s rare to have that certainty with someone in the Badlands, and I find comfort in it, even if I’d never say it aloud.


We stay quiet as we fuss about getting ready. I finish first and step out, the morning sun already scorching against my skin. I start packing up, retracting the campfire within moments. Mia emerges and sets the tent to retract as well. With a final hum of machinery, she scoops up the compacted devices and stows them in her pack. I sigh, already dreading the journey ahead. The heat is unbearable, and the day has barely begun.


"We’re going to have a rough day. Thankfully, it’ll be cooler in New Boston," she admits


"So, I guess the weather changes depending on where we live, huh?" I ask.


"Location dictates weather patterns, Etha. Not the other way around," she laughs lightly.


"Oh." I feel rather idiotic.


"After New Boston, the Lawrence Canyon is going to be cold. Especially as we get closer to the coast."


"Okay."


We leave the campsite and begin our march toward New Boston. Every step is a battle against the desert. The sand shifts beneath our boots, dragging at our legs like it wants to pull us down. The air shimmers ahead of us, warping the horizon with heatwaves. Every breath is dry, sticking to my throat like dust. Mia walks ahead, her pace unwavering, while I struggle to ignore the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me.


"So, what’s it like—New Boston?" I ask, trying to distract myself from the heat.


"Well, my parents thought it would be the beacon of hope for humanity, a new chance to rebuild in peace."


"So, what does that mean?"


"It’s a bit of a story." She tries to shrug me off.


We walk a few steps more. I stop. "Mia, come on. What’s it like?"


She sighs, clearly reluctant. "We’re not going to get there if I have to stop and explain everything."


"Tell me, and I keep walking."


"Ugh, fine," she huffs, resuming her pace. "We left Basha because my parents wanted to join the mercenaries in New Boston."


"Yeah? What got them interested?"


"The idea that we could make the world livable again. The mercenary group found old texts about a group called the Stormriders. They believed we could reclaim the Old World."


"I see."


I wipe the sweat from my face, taking in her words. She only wants the best for the world, even if it seems impossible.


"So, I joined after my parents never came home," she sighs. "I keep trying to make their dream a reality."


"You go through all of this just to keep their dream alive?"


"Yeah. I figure it’s my duty as their daughter."


I laugh lightly, unable to help myself. She shoots me a dirty look, her eyes narrowing in mock irritation, but I catch the flicker of something softer beneath it. I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck, a small, almost unconscious smile tugging at my lips. Even in frustration, there’s something about her presence that grounds me, something steady in a world that shifts like the sand beneath our feet.


"All I ever did was hide, like my parents. Didn’t save them, either."


"We’ve all lost because of the Old World."


"True."


In the distance, buildings emerge from the sands, their glass and metal surfaces glinting harshly under the afternoon sun. Mia slows, taking in the sight. The way the light bounces off the settlement distorts the details, making it difficult to gauge its full size.


"That’s New Boston," Mia says.


"I thought it would be bigger."


"Most of the settlement is underground."


As we move closer, I notice the entrances—gaping tunnels leading below the surface, as if the city has been swallowed by the earth. A buried fortress, hidden from the horrors above.


"So that’s how they avoid the creatures," I say.


"What?"


"I mean, being underground must be a good way to hide."


"Maybe that’s why they built down instead of out or up."


We push forward, our bodies weighed down by the heat. The sand shifts unnaturally. My vision blurs for a moment, and I can’t tell if it’s exhaustion playing tricks on me or if the dunes are truly moving like waves.


Mia thrusts her arm in front of me, stopping me in my tracks with a firm, practised motion. Her body tenses, her eyes narrowing as she scans the horizon, every fibre of her being locked into observation. I freeze, mirroring her stance, watching the way she shifts her weight ever so slightly, ready to react at a moment's notice. There’s no hesitation in her—just sharp focus, the kind that only comes from experience. I hold my breath, trusting her instincts over my own, waiting for her to analyze the situation.


"That’s a worm moving by. We have to wait it out."


"A sand worm? What does that even look like?"


"Picture a long, snake-like thing, but pale—almost snow white. No eyes, no nose, just a massive mouth filled with rows of endless teeth, running all the way down its digestive tract. You do not want to die that way."


"How big are we talking?"


"Watch."


The Badlands go eerily silent. Then, without warning, a deafening roar of shifting sand erupts. The earth trembles as a pale, monstrous form explodes from the depths, its armoured body stretching so high it vanishes into the sky. Endless rings of glistening teeth gleam in the harsh sunlight, a mouth designed to devour anything in its path. The air itself seems to vibrate with its presence.


A wall of sand rises in its wake, an unstoppable force swallowing the sky as it rushes toward us like a collapsing mountain. The roar of shifting dunes is deafening, a monstrous howl that drowns out all thought. The air grows thick with dust, choking the breath from my lungs as the world darkens beneath its shadow. Terror grips me—there is no outrunning this, no fighting it. We are nothing but insects before an avalanche, and it is coming to erase us.


"We better move!" Mia grabs my shoulder and pulls hard.


We take off, feet struggling against the unstable terrain. The tremors make every step feel like running on a crumbling bridge. The sand wave surges forward, gaining on us with terrifying speed. My heart pounds so violently I can feel it in my throat.


I glance back—mistake. The towering wave of sand is too close, faster than us, an unstoppable force ready to swallow us whole. I scan the landscape, desperate for an escape. Nothing. Just endless dunes.


The sands shift beneath us, sluggish yet insidious, climbing our bodies and swallowing our legs as we fight to move. The grains sear against my skin, each movement sending waves of scalding heat through my boots and up my legs. It's as if the desert itself is alive, dragging us down into its fiery depths, determined to consume us whole.


"You led us into quicksand!" I shout.


"I couldn’t tell the difference!" she yells back.


The rumbling intensifies. The sand climbs higher. My outstretched hand can’t reach Mia. The wave looms above, a massive, darkened shadow blotting out the sky, sealing our fates beneath its crushing weight. The last sliver of light disappears as the monstrous wall of sand descends, casting us into a suffocating twilight of dust and terror.


I close my eyes, fighting against the sheer panic clawing at my chest. Every instinct screams at me to do something, to struggle, to fight—but what is there to fight against? The sand is swallowing me whole, dragging me down into darkness, and the weight of my own helplessness is suffocating. My breathing comes fast and shallow, my heart hammering so violently it drowns out the roar of the collapsing desert. This is it. This is how it ends. The desert swallows us whole.


We plummet into the darkness, the collapsing sands chasing us into the abyss. The world spins—weightless, disorienting. I hit the ground hard, sliding down a jagged incline, unable to stop. Mia crashes ahead of me, her body colliding with something solid. I slam into her moments later, pain jolting through my limbs.


Everything stills. My head throbs, my chest heaving. A rush of relief floods through me, mixing with the lingering panic. I'm alive. The realization settles slowly, like dust after a storm, but my limbs still tremble with the aftershocks of fear. The air feels almost solid in my lungs, thick with the weight of survival. I shift slightly, feeling something warm and solid beneath me—Mia. I must have landed right on top of her. My heart stutters as I scramble to push myself up, but my body is still sluggish from the fall.


"Sorry," I mutter, my voice hoarse, the closeness of her presence grounding me in a way that only deepens the relief coursing through me.


"All good… Where are we?" she mumbles, her voice tinged with embarrassment, as if only now realizing how tangled together we are in the aftermath of our fall.


"No idea."

Mia shakes a small rod, and it hums to life, casting a pale glow across the cavern. The light spills over jagged stone and rusted metal—remnants of a world long buried. The walls stretch high into the darkness, carved by something unnatural, something not meant to be uncovered.


She exhales, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thanks, Ark Tech."