Stathis stumbled forward, keeping her eyes cast upwards. The winged demon had driven her away from the razor-sharp wall, out onto the endless grey and dusty plains. Despite its vast size, the wall had soon vanished into the thin mist that permeated this place, her vision now only the seemingly-endless plains. It had been challenging to drive Galondwyn off, and she had taken to the skies with a defiant cackle. She was probably now as lost as Stathis was – this place lacked any form of reference points or landmarks. It wasn’t the afterlife, or at least not any she had heard of, they at least normally had guides of some guide, and the gods overseeing everything.

This place was utterly empty and barren. She hadn’t seen any trace even of scrubby plantlife, or any other form of life. The ground was cracked and dry, and when she had tried digging down, then it had revealed only more of the same – thin, crumbly soil, desperately in need of moisture and plants to hold it together, but without enough wind to scatter it into dust.

And yet she felt no thirst or hunger, nor any tiredness. The place didn’t have any day or night, the sky above just a thick, dull haze. The occasional background whisper she was never sure if it was her imagination, a momentary delusion, or some beast, close by and taunting her. At this stage, even Galondwyn attacking again would be a relief from the tedium!

But all there was here, wherever “here” was, was endless grey. Not even a flash of colour, or anything to break the tedium. She had tried flying upwards once, the endless grey pulling the light from her wings, but once the ground was gone from view, there was nothing to orientate by, no point of reference, and her head had started to swim. Rather than risk flying higher and crashing when her powers expired, she had returned to the ground, choosing to walk instead. The swirling shapes in the mist she now ignored; the vaguely malevolent shapes didn’t seem to be an active threat, despite their continual presence, wisps shaping themselves into demonic forms before scattering whenever she looked at them.

A sound, the first she had heard in however long it had been. She tensed, hand going to her sword, waiting for a moment, in case she had imagined it. A chittering clattering, from maybe close by? She drew her sword, trying to figure out where it was coming from, closing her eyes to try and focus.

The sound come again, a dry clattering. She took slow steps around, steadily getting closer towards the sound. It repeated in an irregular pattern, a dry clicking. Something moved, shifting amongst the mist, a shadow being cast in the eerie half-light that filled this place.

Stathis sniffed – was that a trace of Janaxia’s scent in the air? The only other thing she had smelt here was endless dry dust, flat and lifeless. The low light seemed to take on a reddish cast, or was that just her imagination as well?

She waved her sword, chasing away a particularly thick clump of the mist. Something moved again, a humanoid shape, although twisted and misshapen, with long, gangly limbs, the head malformed and horned. More of the mist cleared, revealing the thing to be skeletal, the chittering sounds made as bones bumped and scraped against each other. It turned to look at her, the ivory horns tipped with red, the eye sockets filled with darkness. The jaw clicked and stuttered, teeth knocking together.

An unnaturally-long arm rose, a six-fingered hand flexing and twitching, but it didn’t immediately attack. Stathis stared at it – it was clearly not natural, but wasn’t hostile, at least not yet. Its eye sockets seethed and broiled, the darkness bubbling and oozing forth, flowing up onto the thing’s head, a shadowy crown starting to form there, a thing of savage spikes and barbs. The eyes continued to stare at her – she didn’t back off, wary of leaving the thing somewhere in the endless mist, in case it returned to attack later.

She carefully poked it with her sword, wary of getting too close. It wasn’t entirely solid but had some mass, like the air itself was congealing. It chittered and clattered at her, trying to brush the sword away, unable to exert any force by itself. A wind suddenly picked up, bitter and cold, dust blowing in her face, stinging her eyes. There was a strange scent in the air, different from the usual air, dead and stale. It smelt like one of Janaxia’s scents, spiced and expensive. Then the thing garbled at her again, before fading, the wind vanishing.

What the hell had that been? Had it been hostile? And where had the wind came from? It had gone now, only sign of its passage some dust now settled onto her clothing. She shook it off and began heading in the direction it had come from – there was nothing else to indicate anywhere to go, after all.

The ground started to slope upwards, but there was no other sign of progress. However long she had been here, she still had no idea of the layout of the place, and it was still dead and desolate, without any sign of life, now or ever. A loud screeching shattered the air, and she clapped her hands against her ears, trying to drown it out, looking around trying to find the source. It was female, a piercing screech that threatened to overwhelm her, stabbing into her.

Another ghostly form appeared, a woman’s face and body, dressed in heavy, stuffy clothing, expression focused. Then she shuddered, the scream turning to one of pain, blood trickling down from her nose, before she blinked out of existence, air going silent again. There was no sign of it, not even a disturbance on the ground. But if there was anything else here, the sound would probably draw it, so it seemed best to move away, and quickly. She kept moving up the slope, glad of at least the effort required to progress, as it grew steeper and steeper. The woman had been dressed relatively normally – Janaxia would probably have been able to pinpoint where, and maybe even when she had been from.

A faint wind stirred the air, the scent of poorly-cooked food and bone-dust appearing, for just a moment. Was this place connected to other places somehow? She had heard of portals to other realms and worlds, but they were normally more alive, or instantly fatal, rather than just being empty and dead.

Stathis was having to strain now, the slope getting steeper, scree slipping away beneath her feet. Maybe if she got high enough, then she would be able to see where she was? Or there might be some way out of here? She had to sheathe her sword and almost crawl upwards on all fours, or risk skidding back downwards, the gritty powder falling between the cracks in her armour and making her itchy and uncomfortable.

She had no idea how long she had been heading upwards for, although her body was feeling sore, limbs aching and her chest heaving. The slight changes in inclination gave her some sensation that she was moving, at least, rather than the endless flat plains where she might have been walking in endless circles. Although here, her vision was virtually nothing – there was the steep slope in front of her, the mist behind, and nothing else. Her foot slipped on the scree, and she almost skidded down, having to flatten herself against the ground or risk slipping down. Her hand slammed against the ground, pushing through the thin layer of grit, feeling the firm rock beneath.

When she was stable, she progressed again, reaching up and out of sight. Semari or Parth would probably have made a far easier time of it! Finally, she reached her hand up, fumbling for the next handhold, finding only air. She shifted her hand around, moving it down, finding flat stone. She scrabbled herself up further.

It wasn’t just a ledge, it was an entire plateau, at least as far as she could see. The mist was thinner here, and there wasn’t the same grit, it was bare rock. She turned to look behind herself, almost staggering from vertigo – she could see further now, enough to see the slope vanishing somewhere beneath her, without any sign of the bottom. There was no sign of anything else; no other peaks, and still no sky above her.

She turned back around to the plateau, hoping it wouldn’t be another possibly-infinite surface. The air here was clearer, less dense with the heavy fog. Keeping the edge to one side, she advanced, heading for what seemed to be a darker patch.

A shadow emerged from the mist, feathered wings protruding from a humanoid form. She drew her sword and cautiously advanced, ready to fight. She slowly circled around it, keeping a safe distance. It didn’t move, or show any signs of awareness, or even life.

The only thing she could do was approach, sword still at the ready. It was stood on a boulder, the disruption to the general flatness of the place strange by itself. When she was within ten paces, it became apparent that it was a statue of an angelic figure, an armoured warrior, carved with a sword and shield. Its feathered wings were spread wide as though about to take flight, sword held high. Their face was hidden behind a full helmet, armour hiding their form, but they were clearly girded for war.

Stathis examined it closely, trying to determine if it was truly a statue, or a petrified person, or a guardian creature of some kind. It didn’t move or react to her presence, and the blade and shield were both stone rather than metal, so it probably wasn’t a guardian. It could be someone like her, petrified by a curse or similar? But that would mean there was at least something else here to inflict the curse. Or it could just be a statue, but that raised the question of who had carved it, and where were they?

As she touched the shield, some of the grit that had lodged against it fell down, revealing shapes carved into the flat surface. They seemed to shift under her gaze, the carved lines making her eyes water, impossible to determine their true shape. She touched them, finding the stone sturdy and stable, despite what her eyes told her. She closed her eyes, then removed her gauntlet and felt the shapes, trying to fix their shapes in her mind. An upright, then a series of slashed horizontal lines… She kept building up the image in her mind – it must be writing of some kind. Was it the Unspeakable Tongue?

A voice sounded, rusty and dry, creaking like old leather. ‘It has been a long time since any living walked these lands. We should talk, child of light.’