Kael woke up to the howling of the wind, a piercing shriek like that of a wounded beast. Sweltering heat wrapped around him, his clothes clinging uncomfortably to his sweat-drenched body. He grimaced—he must smell worse than a wet dog. He hoped that no one was around to comment on the odor.
The sun was merciless. Its rays scorched his exposed skin. His cheeks were numb from prolonged exposure to the sun, and for the first time in his life, he regretted not wearing sunscreen.
He wondered how long he had been unconscious because his thirst was unbearable. His throat itched, leading to a series of dry, rasping coughs; it felt as if his lungs were lined with dust. Just swallowing sent a fresh wave of pain through his parched throat. The air was so dry that each breath drained moisture from his mouth. He needed water.
Gingerly, he opened his eyes, only to be blinded by the sun. Hissing, he shut them tight, turning his face away. Despite his body's miserable condition he couldn't help but release a weak chuckle.
He was alive.
Even though he believed he might die after the formation of the burning symbol on his heart, he survived. Kael had beaten the odds. The nagging voice of inadequacy in his head not so loud anymore.
He lay still, letting his mind settle before a troubling thought struck him—where was he? It shouldn't be this hot. It was winter, even during the day, the temperature never rose to this level.
Kael pushed himself up, expecting to feel the cool solidity of cement beneath him. Instead, his hands pressed into coarse, scalding sand. When his eyes managed to adjust to the sun, he realized he was no longer in a city.
He blinked, half-expecting the skyscrapers and paved roads of the city to materialize. But there was nothing but rolling dunes.
Was he going crazy?
He ran his hands through the sand. The grains slipped through the cracks between them, hot and rough—it was real. He clenched his fist, pulling himself back to reality. This wasn't an illusion.
Brushing sand off from his trousers, he rose to his feet. He scratched his head, scanning all directions, searching for a sign of familiarity. How had he ended up in a desert? His last known location was the city and there wasn't a desert within a hundred miles of the city.
Could he really be hallucinating this time?
His immediate surroundings were empty, the only landmarks were the occasional sloping dunes. No people, no structures, just a vast, desolate nothingness. A flicker of panic ignited within him at the thought of being stranded here, but then he caught a glimpse of something on the horizon.
Mountains.
They stood distant but undeniable, a jagged chain piercing the sky. Squinting he realized something was off. The peaks were unnaturally smooth, some breaking away from the cluster to stand isolated in the sand. Strangest of all, they were porcelain white.
Snow? In the desert? In the middle of the day?
The contradiction gnawed at his mind as he continued to assess his surroundings, looking for any possible shelter. However, other than the mountains in the distance there wasn't anything else of note. Kael was apprehensive, but he had no better options. If there was snow, there was water. And if anyone else had been stranded here, they would head there too.
As Kael started walking.
As he trudged forward, he allowed himself to wonder about the white mark on his chest. Unbuttoning his collared shirt he traced a finger over the glowing white mark on his chest. The once-burning symbol now pulsed with a cool, soothing sensation. He couldn't reconcile how something that had seared into his skin now brought comfort. He contemplated its meaning, its shape was familiar. It was the same language as the ominous message that had appeared in his mind, yet no matter how hard he observed the symbol he could not discern its meaning.
Hours passed, as he roamed the desert. The sun an unrelenting force above. The wind grew harsher, whipping sand against his exposed skin. The desert environment was unforgiving. His heart pounded as exhaustion clawed at his limbs. The peaks were closer, but still painfully distant. He wouldn't last much longer without water.
He tied his blazer around his head in a desperate attempt to block the sunlight, but his body was failing. His lips cracked under the relentless heat. He could only claw at his throat after every cough. Every breath felt like inhaling fire. His vision began to blur.
That was why, at first, he dismissed the figure in the distance as a mirage.
He kept walking, mind empty, body moving on instinct. But then the figure moved.
His back straightened, squinting against the glare, he wiped the sand from his eyes. The figure was blurry, but real.
His feet moved before his brain registered the command. He stumbled forward, desperate for any signs of life.
Suddenly, a sound like grating rocks rattled in the wind, it was his voice. His throat burned as he tried to speak.
"Hey," he rasped. His voice barely carried over the wind.
He tried again. "Hey!" Louder this time, but still weak.
Summoning every ounce of strength, he shouted, "HEY!"
The figure turned.
A surge of relief flooded Kael's body. He wasn't alone.
Tears pricked his eyes as he rushed forward. The other man moved too, nearly tripping as he hurried to meet Kael. He was tall, with curly black hair framing his exhausted face. He wore jeans, boots, and a highlighter vest—construction gear. His expression mirrored Kael's: desperate relief.
They reach each other, gripping each other's arms as if to confirm that the other person was real.
"Oh lord," the man gasped. "Thank goodness. I thought I was going to die alone. I haven't seen anybody else since I got here." He held his head in his hands.
Kael nodded, too overwhelmed to speak at first."I get it. I was scared too. I'm... I'm so glad I found you."
"How long have you been here? Do you know what happened?"
"No idea," Kael admitted. "Last thing I remember is the purple sky... then I woke up in the desert."
The man swallowed hard. "Do you think we'll die out here? There's no water for miles."
"Calm down." Kaiel tried to steady his own fear. "We need to think about this rationally. Those mountains—" he pointed towards the white peaks "—they are covered in snow. Snow means water. If anyone else is here, they'll be heading there too."
The man exhaled shakily. "Okay. Yeah. I was heading that way too. Maybe we'll find others along the way."
They walked in silence for a while, their footsteps dragging in the loose sand. The mountains loomed in the distance, but they might as well have been on another planet for how far away they still seemed. Every breath was a struggle against the dry air, every step a test of willpower.
Kael cleared his throat, wincing at the rawness. "I never caught your name."
The other man glanced over, wiping sweat from his brow. "Jeremiah."
"Kael Ardyn," he offered in return, extending a hand.
Jeremiah eyed it for a beat before shaking it, his grip firm—too firm, like he didn't know his own strength. His fingers were rough, calloused. "Kael, huh? That's a bit different."
Kael let out a weak chuckle. "Yeah, my parents were nerds. Named me after some spandex-wearing superhero."
Jeremiah smirked. "And here I thought you looked like the tights-wearing type."
Kael snorted. "Hey, if I had superpowers, I wouldn't be sweating my ass off in the middle of nowhere."
"Fair point." Jeremiah let out a breath, his gaze flicking toward the endless dunes. His expression darkened for a moment before he shook it off. He ran a hand over his buzzed hair, exhaling sharply. "What about you? What'd you do before this?"
Kael hesitated. That was a loaded question. Before this, he'd been failing at the one thing he'd built his life around. Before this, he had been spiraling.
"Startup founder," he said, keeping it vague.
Jeremiah raised an eyebrow. "Oh, one of those guys. Bet you spent half your day drinking overpriced coffee and saying words like 'synergy.'"
Kael huffed. "I swear, if I ever used the word 'synergy' unironically, I deserved to end up in this desert."
Jeremiah chuckled, but there was an edge to it—like he was still sizing Kael up. He kicked at the sand, sending a small cloud of it scattering. "I'm in construction. My old man got me into it when I was a kid. Hardass. The kind of guy who'd hand me a hammer before I could spell my own damn name."
Kael smirked. "Sounds like a useful guy to have around."
"Oh, he was. But he was also the type to lose his shit over the smallest thing. You bent a nail wrong? 'What, you got butterfingers?' Mess up a cut? 'Use your damn brain, boy!'" Jeremiah scoffed, shaking his head. "Took me years to realize he wasn't mad at me, just at the world. But, man, when I was a teenager? I used to talk back just to piss him off. Yelled right in his face. If he said the sky was blue, I'd say it was goddamn purple."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Did you ever win?"
"Hell no," Jeremiah admitted with a lopsided grin. "Man could out-stubborn a brick wall. But I still got my swings in." His smile faded a little. "Still, he taught me everything I know. Thought I'd do the same for my kid, but... I dunno. I think I want them to have a choice."
"You have a kid?"
Jeremiah's expression softened, a different kind of weight settling over him. "One on the way." He let out a breath, almost like he was trying to steady himself. "I should be home right now, painting the nursery. Arguing over whether 'sage green' and 'forest green' are actually different colors." His lips twitched, but the sadness in his eyes lingered.
Kael gave a small nod, unsure what to say.
Jeremiah exhaled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "My wife... man, she's something else. She's got this way of making everything feel like it's gonna be okay, even when it's not. She's the kindest person I've ever met, and I don't say that lightly. I don't know what she ever saw in me, but—" He shrugged. "She's the only person who ever really understood my temper. Knew when to push back and when to just let me burn out." He gave a short laugh, shaking his head. "She always tells me I need to breathe more. 'Think before you talk, Jeremiah,' she says. I try, but... sometimes, I see red first, y'know? Never at her, though. Never." His voice dropped to something barely above a whisper. "She's the only person who could ever calm me down."
Kael nodded, something twisting in his chest. He knew that feeling—the weight of unfinished moments, of people left behind without answers.
He was about to respond when something in the distance caught his eye.
He stopped dead in his tracks, his breath hitching.
Jeremiah followed his gaze, his posture stiffening. His hands clenched into fists by reflex. "Tell me you see that too."
"Yeah." Kael breathed. "It's real."
"There is no water though," Jeremiah pointed out grimly.
"One thing at a time, my friend. Let's be thankful we found shelter."
A rock jutted from the barren desert —massive, weathered, and oddly shaped. Its surface was rough and pitted, the color a sun-bleached mix of gray and dull beige, as if it had been gnawed by the wind for centuries. Shadows pooled in the deep grooves and hollows, giving it an almost organic appearance.
Kael and Jeremiah trudged forward, their steps heavy with exhaustion. Each breath felt like dragging air through a furnace, and their shared silence was punctuated only by the shuffle of sand beneath their feet.
As they neared the rock formation, Kael noticed movement. Shadows shifting against the stone. His pulse quickened.
Jeremiah exhaled sharply. "Are those people?"
Kael nodded. "I think so."
Relief warred with caution in his mind. Survivors meant a chance at information, maybe even water—but it also meant uncertainty. Who were these people? Could they be trusted?
Drawing closer, the murmur of voices reached them, carried on the wind. Then, from beneath the shade of the formation, two figures emerged. They walked with purpose, their eyes locked onto Kael and Jeremiah, as if sizing them up.
Instinctively, Kael squared his shoulders, bracing himself. He wasn't sure what kind of welcome to expect, but one thing was certain—whatever this place was, they were no longer alone.
As the men approached Kael, he made out their features more clearly. The first man had clean, short hair, meticulously styled, reminiscent of a professional salesman. He was wearing a crisp white collared shirt and tailored blue trousers, though both were now marred by dust and sweat. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing lean forearms, and he was missing his tie—perhaps discarded in the heat. His polished brown dress shoes sank awkwardly into the loose sand, clearly not meant for trekking across the desert. Every step he took seemed hesitant, as if he still expected to find pavement beneath him.
The other man was middle-aged, he looked to be in his sixties, his salt-and-pepper hair tousled by the persistent wind. He had a grizzled beard that gave him a rugged, seasoned look, and his calm expression contrasted the urgent nature of their predicament. Despite the oppressive heat and their desperate situation, he carried himself with an air of quiet confidence. However, his clothing did nothing to suggest his reason for such composure—just a simple, sweat-stained t-shirt and a pair of jeans, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to his legs.
As the men came together, the middle-aged man spoke first, his voice firm but not unkind. "Is there anybody else with you?" he asked tersely, his gaze flicking between Kael and Jeremiah, as if gauging their strength.
Jeremiah cleared his throat before answering. "No, we're alone. We found each other not too long ago and decided to head toward the mountains in the distance. It's a miracle we found this place, though, because I don't think we would have survived the journey much longer."
Kael nodded in silent agreement. His muscles ached, his throat was raw, and each breath felt like inhaling embers. He had no idea how long they had been walking, only that the relentless sun had been burning overhead the entire time. Had it even moved in the sky?
The middle-aged man studied them for a moment longer before giving a single nod. "Then let's start heading back."
Without further discussion, they began walking toward the large rock formation. Now that they were closer, Kael could see it was more than just a simple outcrop—its rough, pitted surface created a natural barrier, offering some shade and protection from the wind. More importantly, it was a gathering point. As they walked, the other survivors turned towards them. His pulse quickened.
Trying to ignore the way his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, Kael forced himself to ask the question that had been clawing at him since they arrived. "Do you guys happen to have any water? We haven't had anything to drink all day. I don't think I've ever been this thirsty in my life."
The middle-aged man turned his head slightly, his dark eyes appraising Kael in a way that made him feel exposed, as if he were being weighed and measured. Finally, he gave a simple, almost indifferent response. "No."
The bluntness of it hit Kael like a blow to the gut. His already dwindling hope withered a little more. He was about to press further when the man in the dress shirt, perhaps noticing the tension, spoke up.
"Sorry about him," he said with a small, apologetic smile. "He doesn't talk much. We've only just started gathering here. I was actually the first person to make it to the rock, but people started arriving soon after. It seems like everyone was transported directly from the city, so nobody had time to bring anything with them—no water, no supplies, nothing."
Kael remained silent, absorbing the grim reality of their situation. So they weren't randomly taken. Everyone here had come from the city. And none of them knew why.