The sandy grains hugging his cheeks were back. This time, he was buried in it. He stood up, shook off the sand and dusted his whole body. Normally the grating roughness of the sand would have irked him by now, but even though it was in every corner of his body, he felt nothing. He didn't even feel his own touch.

Odd.

Looking around, what once was a golden sky is now covered in night's blanket. Although the stars weren't as magical as the one in the third plane, it was still an exquisite view. There was Kila the northern star that's burning brightly, guiding travelers to the true north. Besides her were her three little siblings Kailo, Kimo, and Kaimo. Even stars had families in the constellation riddled skies.

Westward then.

He finally began his journey, traveling into the vast black desert without stopping. No sane human would dare travel this way, but he wasn't human anymore. He was an undead, accursed to walk the land of the living. At least he's still thinking. Soon enough he might go hollow just like what happens to the rest of them.

Let's not think about that.

He let muses sprout in his thoughts to fight off boredom. Sometimes he would simply sit down and watch the deadness of the dry wind as it tries to carry the black grains, often comparing it to his past deeds.

For three days he wandered the unfamiliar sands. The farther he goes, the healthier the sand becomes. From black, it slowly changes to golden brown. Throughout this time, he witnessed the lifeless desert transform into something that houses life. Here and there were Sandweeds, tough as ever. He even stepped on a Kravanian viper hiding under the sheets of sand. On the fourth morning, he came upon an oasis. Up in the distance there appeared many tents near it. Big enough to rival a southern village. Their location was well hidden, placed behind tall sand dunes. He crouched, fearing that someone would spot him. They wouldn't welcome him with flowers and hospitality anyway. An undead is not exactly a wanted visitor. People often treat them as a calamity they have to live by. Sandstorms form, people shit, and undead rise. He snuck his way through the cover of the old stones. Even in these parts, several stone ruins remain. After listening for a few moments, it became apparent that this tribe was particularly quiet.

Too quiet.

The busy bustling of the families one would usually hear wasn't present. He decided to check the tents near him.

Empty.

Everything was a mess. The whole chests are ransacked, tables and chairs were flipped, and several shattered clay pots were spread out on the floor. He went out and checked the next tent only to find the same scene. After checking the whole settlement, he found nobody.

Probably raided by slavers.

Such was the desert life. You either die thirsty or die as a slave.

Just as he was about to leave he heard a faint whimper. He looked around and strained his ears. The sound was coming from a barrel hidden behind a large protruding stone just beside a small tent. He went there and lifted the cover. A bolt then found its mark on his head. It struck his eye dead clean. He moved back on instinct even though it didn't hurt. There in front of him were two boys peeking on the cover. The eldest child was holding a crossbow, winding it up again for another shot. Eshikel dashed with speed, his dead muscles springing to life. No longer bound by the limits of a human, his strength was enhanced. He grabbed the crossbow and yanked it upwards, avoiding another shot. The kid struggled to keep his grip on the handle. He did all he could, even wrapping his whole body in Eshikel's arm. He tried grappling his way out but Eshikel was stronger. He pried the kid out of his arm, maintaining his grip on the crossbow. The kid soon gave up. He ran and picked up his little brother.

"Wait, don't move!" Eshikel shouted.

The kids kept on running. Eshikel winded the crossbow. He aimed and shot an arrow just in front of them. A warning that the next one might land on their skulls. Both stopped on their tracks, frozen by the glint of the arrowhead. The eldest taking action shielded his younger brother.

"Don't move. I'm not gonna hurt you."

The two were a mess. Their faces covered with sand and grime. He also noticed what the two wore. A matching blue silken robe with patterns and symbols of different pine trees. It was also adorned by different hues of blue dye. Silk was hard to come by in a dessert.

Must be from the south. Only big shots and chiefs can afford those.

"Where'd the slavers took 'em?"

The two stood there saying nothing. Their shirts were bright but their faces weren't. Eshikel knew that look. He also wore it several years ago.

A mix of sorrow and rage, a feisty one at that.

"Tell me where?"

"Why'd you wanna know!"

The eldest shouted, clearly enraged. Raw emotions that he had bottled inside was spilling and with it comes his tears, desperately clinging on to his eyes.

Because you look pathetic like me.

"I'm actually going westward. If they took em' there then... I might just be able to do something about it."

"They went north," the boy spouted bitterly

"Splendid! North it is then", Eshikel smiled.

He threw them the loaded crossbow and began to walk back into the tents to scavenge what was left.

"Let's go. We have a lot of ground to cover".