Ahead, below, to his left, and to his right—everything had shifted.
The flat plains that once stretched endlessly were gone, replaced by a vast sea of dunes.
They rose and fell like frozen waves, towering high enough to block any distant landmark.
During and after that change, Malik's feet had yet to pause.
He just kept walking as if detached from the world, weaving between the dunes.
His eyes, meanwhile, stayed fixed on the general direction of the lighthouse.
It was his only constant in this place—a pinprick of light promising salvation... Or maybe death.
He didn't care which.
As long as it led him to them.
The bastards who 'killed' Sinbad.
"Ugh—!"
A bolt of pain echoed deep in his mind.
Thinking about Sinbad hurt too much.
'...Damn it.'
The sound of his laughter, the way he'd trail behind like a cute little chick—always smiling, always talking about the dumbest of things.
Gone.
