“Souls are such a finicky thing, they always seem to grow attached to the bodies they live in. If only they’d let go, they’d be open up to such potential.”

It was a simple two lines, but such a radical idea. The words were quickly written, as if the author couldn’t get their thoughts on the paper fast enough. The parchment itself seemed to be torn out of a notebook or journal and had started to turn golden from it’s time sitting in the sun. But most peculiar of all: a name was scribbled beneath the entry.

‘S. Shaffer’

Tryx thought and couldn’t remember any Shaffer from back home. Carefully folding the piece of paper, Tryx slid it back into her front pocket.

The Sun beat down on Tryx’s amber skin, it’s orange hue bounced off the grand amethyst crystal monoliths off in the distance. It was close to mid-day now and unless Tryx found some shade she might not last until night.

Her parents had always warned Tryx of the dangers out in the Forgotten Lands but up until today she had believed them to only be old-wives tales. After all, her parents continuously told her nothing but lies, why else would she be out all by herself in this waste of a land if she had anyone she could trust.

The earth beneath her seemed to crack under the pressure of her foot like dried-out clay. Clouds of dust…or some type of bacteria wafted in the air obscuring Tryx’s vision.

Turning her back to the wind, Tryx knelt down, sliding her father’s old goggles down from her curly mess of hair.

“That’s better…now only if I can find some shelter…” she muttered to herself as she stood back up.

It had been three days now since Tryx had left home. Fifty-seven hours to be exact. It was the night of her sixteenth name-day when she had finally had enough. Earlier that day her father, being the bone-headed male that he was, had promised her hand in marriage to the head priest of the Paragons of the Five Gods. It was cliché, yes, but she wouldn’t be sold off like some piece of meat. No, she was going to go to Autumn Winds Sanctuary and become a scholar, even if that meant traversing through the Forgotten Lands on her own.

That made her wonder: Had this S. Shaffer been a scholar of the Sanctuary? Perhaps. But there was only one way to truly find out: make it through the grueling week-long trek to the other side of the world, to the other side of Buranku.

The harsh sunlight boiled Tryx’s skin. Her bare arms started to form blotchy sores. Her cheeks were glistening with sweat, dripping down into the canvas scarf that she had wrapped around her neck. If her father were here, he would mock her pale, “inferior” skin. You see, Tryx’s father was as dark as the night-time sky and once proclaimed, “Only the Five God’s themselves could harm this leathery armor.” Tryx’s mother on the other hand had skin as pure as the clouds – a result of her aboriginal ancestry.

The further she walked, the towering crystals stood as if she had been standing still the entire time, mocking her slow movement. Tryx’s almond eyes darted through the lenses of the goggles, furiously looking for shelter but only flat, desolate lands surrounded her.

The winds began to pick up, creating billows of dust everywhere. Small dust devils spun around her, obstructing where she had been headed. Her weathered boots clamored their way through, trying to find their footing, but the wind wouldn’t stop persisting, continually sending Tryx in the wrong direction.

The strong Buranku winds pushed and pushed until Tryx’s leather-bound boots found no ground, only air. Before she could let out a gasp or yell, she dropped down into darkness, landing flat on her back. A pain like one she had never felt before shot through her body, like a dagger driven directly into her spine. She looked around but all she could see was the residue of the storm above.

With what strength she could muster, Tryx sat up, her back cracking in places that have never cracked before. Her curls sprung back and forth and she removed the caked goggles and spat on them to clean the glass off.

Blinking her eyes, they slowly adjusted to the subterranean darkness. Looking up, she could see no sign of daylight. She must have found a soft spot in the earth that her people called shifting-sands, where the sand and earth below would expand and retract creating unpredictable terrain.

Reaching into her satchel, Tryx pulled out a glowing blue crystal that miraculously stayed intact despite the fall. It’s shape nearly identical model to the ones that taunted her above. A gift from the Five Gods, her people would say, and this cerulean one provided light for her people.

The faint blue glow revealed to her what her eyes hadn’t seen until now. She had fallen down into a series of underground tunnels. Tunnels that seemed to traverse and branch off throughout the entire Forgotten Lands. If the Five Gods did exist, they had finally sent her a life-line.

Copyright William Meier Jr. 2021 ©