Days passed, and Astel once again found himself lying on the roof of Sev's carriage. This time, however, he wasn't training or even thinking about the future—his sights were set on the past. He tried remembering the faces of his loved ones while he still could, but they were turning foggy in his memory.
His mother's face especially.
He still had a hard time getting over her death, but now, he was losing even the memory of how she looked. He could vaguely remember her soft features and slightly wrinkled face—the worried look in her eyes whenever he came home bruised or injured. He could still recall her short, dark hair and her warm embrace… but as the days came and went, even that was starting to become a distant memory of a life once lived.
Astel stared at the sky, scared—terrified of the future, of becoming someone else. The memory of once living as the boy named Riven haunted him. It was his first time experiencing not being himself… not knowing who he truly was. And now, with the voice—his other self—living somewhere deep within his mind, he just wanted to run.
Run away from everything—his self-appointed responsibility, his fears, his life.
He just wanted to return home.
Tears formed in his teal eyes before a voice brought him back to reality.
"Hey Astel, we're nearing the first return point. Be ready for anything."
Astel wiped his tears with one hand and rose to his feet. He took in the view and the fresh, burning-hot air with a deep breath. Tall snowy peaks rose from the horizon. They looked large and menacing—and so close, he felt like he could reach them on foot in a day or two.
But he didn't move. He trusted his new friend and partner.
Letting out a long sigh, he began warming up his body by stretching, each movement deliberate—made to firm up his toned, athletic frame. This warm-up routine was taught to him by Lyra. She always said that the most dangerous thing for a Fragmenter wasn't a strong monster, but an unprepared mind and body. Astel took those words to heart.
He'd always wondered where she'd learned so much. First, it was the energy-replenishing circulation. Then the stretches. Then other small techniques he hadn't found anywhere else.
He had even tried asking Sev about them.
But Sev, for all his knowledge, didn't seem to know a thing.
The desert was quiet. The danger that had been following them hadn't shown any signs of its existence for a while—which made Astel nervous. Even more so, it made the voice nervous. The other Astel had been speaking less and less, often telling Astel not to disturb him… which only worried Astel more.
It seemed like the voice was preparing for something. And Astel only knew of one thing it could do…
Take over.
A shiver traveled down Astel's spine as he finished his stretches. There was no sweat on his body—as the water evaporated almost instantly—so he headed down to Sev immediately after.
"Shouldn't you be on lookout?" Sev asked without even looking up, his head still buried in documents.
"I just came to ask you something," Astel said. "Do you think we can actually reach the mountains?"
Sev turned to him, one eyebrow raised. "Why? Do you doubt my competence?"
Astel raised his hands and laughed awkwardly. "No, no, it's just that… I think there's something following us. But it hasn't shown itself recently."
Sev slowly turned back to his documents. "Is that so?"
Astel waited for him to continue, but Sev didn't say anything else.
"I just thought I should let you know, you know, as partners."
Sev grinned a little with his back still turned. "You should go back outside. You're going to see something amazing."
Astel nodded and headed back to the roof of the carriage.
'See something amazing… What did he mean by that?'
Left alone with his thoughts, he sat down, his feet dangling off the roof, swinging in the air.
Not even ten minutes passed when the atmosphere around them shifted. It was a slight change—everything looked the same—but Astel could feel it.
The air was colder.
The carriage doors swung open, and a loud voice echoed from inside.
"Everyone, stop!"
The words felt almost oppressive, and the entire caravan—every lost soul walking alongside it—stopped in unison.
Astel tensed. No longer was he sitting in a relaxed position, but one from which he could react quickly should anything happen.
Time passed.
But nothing did.
Astel looked over the edge of the roof and saw Sev writing in his diary once more, using his blood as ink. He scanned the surrounding area, licked his finger, and raised it into the air—before scribbling something else. As soon as he returned the diary to his pocket, he shouted:
"Alright, turn around. Let's get as far away from the mountains as we can!"
His commanding, almost oppressive voice made Astel shiver. But once again, the entire caravan moved as one.
Turning around, they began to distance themselves from the mountains. Astel waited, scanning the surroundings—waiting for something to appear. His muscles were tense, his breathing shallow. The nerves were killing him.
Something felt… wrong.
Seconds felt like minutes, which in turn felt like hours.
Somewhere along the way, a chilling wind appeared, piercing Astel like thousands of needles.
Still nothing happened.
Not yet.
The wind picked up again, lifting the first grains of sand into the sky. Astel heard a muffled voice from below.
"Cover your mouth and nose."
He didn't quite understand—it was too hard to hear over the wind.
Then it hit him.
The first wave of beautiful, prismarine sand made its way into Astel's nose. His lungs were on fire. He quickly reacted—covering his face with one hand and using the other to tear his jagged clothes. He tied a piece of cloth around his head just in time to shield his mouth and nose.
The wind howled again, bringing with it a tall wall of sand.
Astel closed his eyes and raised the cloth to cover them. He couldn't rely on sight anymore—not in these conditions.
His senses were dull. Unlike his mind, they hadn't been sharpened. He had a hard time recognizing what was happening.
He could feel the particles in the air. The sharp wind. The strange absence of ever-present daylight.
Even during this storm, Astel's mind wandered. 'The old me would've died already… what changed? Is it just experience? What am I fighting so hard for?'
He was starting to get lost in his thoughts—
Until the voice snapped him out of it.
"Stop this pity party and focus, moron. Can't you feel what's happening out there?"
Astel snapped back to reality. He turned his head, forgetting his eyes were still covered.
Taking a deep breath through the cloth, he circulated energy and directed it toward the part of his mind that controlled his senses—something he had learned through experience, thanks to Lyra's circulation method.
For a split second, he felt his surroundings—each particle of sand, each shift in the wind—but it came with a spike of intense pain, like needles driving through his brain. His body recoiled instinctively, but he forced it down. Just one moment. Just enough to see.
The voice stirred within his mind, "Idiot. Keep doing that and you'll end up a vegetable before you ever reach the mountains."
But Astel couldn't hear it.
In that tiny window, he managed to shut down the noise and focus on the sand itself.
Something was moving, displacing large amounts of sand, as if swimming below it.
He never would've noticed it if not for the voice.
He silently thanked it before climbing down and entering Sev's carriage.
"Sev! That thing is out there! The one I told you about… We have to stop!"
Sev turned to him. "We can't stop. We won't make it if we do."
Astel threw his hands up in frustration. "We'll die if we don't stop!"
Sev stood up and pointed toward the door. "Then go take care of it if you don't want us to die—because I'm not stopping until we're at the mountains. Trust me, you don't want to get stuck in this storm."
Astel stared at Sev for a long moment. Then his head dropped.
"I can't… That thing is too much for me. Please, just stop the caravan… I don't want to die."
Sev walked up to him and slapped him across the cheek.
"You don't want to die? That's just great. Do you think I want to die? Why the hell do you think I let you out of that cage in the first place?"
He paused, then rested a hand on Astel's shoulder.
"You're strong. Besides… you don't have to kill it. Just make sure it doesn't kill us."
He turned back to his table, opened a locked drawer, and pulled out a familiar weapon.
Astel's eyes widened. "My spear? Why? Why now? I didn't earn it yet… did I?"
He looked confused.
Sev walked up and placed the spear into his hands.
"I trust you, Astel. Besides—you've done so much already. For me… and for them."
He pointed outside at the lost souls.
"What do you say? Hm? To not dying?"
Astel looked him in the eyes. He reached out and gripped the spear with one hand, wiping his tears with the other.
"To not dying." He smiled, his eyes wet from tears.