The Nehruian Desert was known for being a place of blistering hot sand and vicious death, even in the technologically advanced age they lived in. Constant sweltering heat from Vortau above made life almost impossible to survive for long, and the human traders traversing it in search of riches were no different. It was inconceivably large, covering half of the southern hemisphere of Arcadia on its own, and crossing from edge to edge was almost assuredly a death sentence.

Alex stood aboard a large cargo vessel of one such trader, leaning against the metal railing and looking out over the endless dunes from the deck of the barge. Two large, triangular sails overhead helped keep the midday sun off of him when he stepped out into the open air, but the heat still emanated off the metal on which he stood. Wind whipped around him, billowing the cloak tightly wrapped around his face, and he could feel the particles of sand biting at the fabric and any bit of skin it could find. Off in the distance to his right were the distinct form of the mauntins—large, camel-like creatures with thick fur coats that prowled the desolate land. Even from this range, the rumble of their thunderous footsteps could be felt with each move they made.

Slightly to the left and hardly visible over the gold and black sand dunes were the rising spires of Eredhen gleaming in the sunlight and slowly growing larger. He could just barely make out out the ant-like cars and ships and freighters zooming around the city. Beginning to crest over the banks of the desert were the domed structures he had been told housed everything from the most marvelous statues and paintings to the gold and silver of the rich and elite. Further left, the swirling sands of a dust storm heading in their direction dominated the landscape, rising kilometers into the air and stretching as far as he could see.

The vessel was powered by repulsor engines and almost seemed to surf half a dozen meters over the sand, blasting any particles it could out of the way. Even though he had only been recruited to the trader’s crew for a few months, he had already gone on several expeditions with them. A typical journey involved several stops around the outskirts of the desert, but sometimes a trip through the center was unavoidable, and it was those days, one where they would have to go to Eredhen, that Alex dreaded most. Though he had not been on one of the trips, the horror stories that the rest of the crew told him were nothing to be scoffed at. Plus, nothing screamed danger quite like going straight through the desert with no spring oases, and no guarantee that something wouldn’t happen and leave you stranded to die a slow, painful death of dehydration and being baked alive.

‟Alex, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” a voice shouted from behind him, causing him to spin in alarm. He hadn’t even heard the door open, let alone someone approaching. ‟Don’t you have work you’re supposed to be doing?”

The man standing there, hands on his hips, was somewhat round, with a large stomach and arms and legs to match, though he was almost a head taller than Alex was. A beard protruded from beneath his tan, sand-battered hood, which obscured most of the rest of his face save for the crooked and misshapen nose in the center. With each word the man said and breath he took, the double chin at his throat became distinct. At his hip was a deactivated laser sword still covered in the droplets of dried blood from the last bandit raid—before Alex’s time, but the crew told him the surely embellished stories of the man fighting off dozens of men singlehandedly.

Alex moved a few paces away from the railing, smiling more out of habit than anything given the fact his cowl covered his face save for his eyes. The man watched him curiously, his own hand drifting subconsciously to the hilt and resting atop it, getting ready to pull it out.

‟Just trying to get a little fresh air, Lord Mattix,” said Alex in the best faux-timid voice he could managed, bowing his head deeply. ‟The rest of the crew had a pretty good handle on things in the hold, and they told me to come out here to relax a little bit.”

It was mostly the truth, but he wasn’t about to tell Lord Orion Mattix he had almost been killed by their cargo. It also did not help that Alex chose that precise moment to tug his sleeve down in an attempt to hide the large slash across the top of his right hand. Something about the piercing gaze from the man, however, told Alex that the Lord already knew all too well of what transpired. Regardless, he walked and joined the younger man at the railing, leaning over and watching the sand dunes pass as the barge sailed overtop.

‟One of my first days overseeing a transport, we almost crashed into one of those things.” Mattix gestured to the mauntins in the distance.

Simply hearing him saying the word crash made Alex put his hand to the scar running down his face and brought forth a flood of memories he had to fight to suppress—there would be plenty of time to linger on them later. Though, his conscious suppression didn’t stop them from leaking into his dreams, haunting every night and forcing him awake with sweat dredging his sleep clothes.

As subtly as he could, he shook his head to clear it and returned his attention to the Lord, who thankfully kept diverted his attention elsewhere.

‟Beautiful creatures, but they are much sturdier and tougher than they look, the great brutes.” The man laughed, sending his stomach into roiling convulsions. ‟If only you had seen the look on our faces, but I don’t know who was more surprised: Us that we actually ran into the only thing for dozens of kilometers, or it because it suddenly had a hunk of metal hitting it in the side. After we struck it, though, a great pit opened up in the sands in front of us, and, if it weren’t for the beast, we would have surely fallen in. Regardless, my point is this: You cannot always control where you are or what you do, but life always has a way of making sure you end up where you’re supposed to.”

‟I’m not so sure I believe too much in destiny, Lord Mattix,” Alex mumbled, keeping his eyes on the sand and turning his head away from the man to better keep his scar hidden. He reached up to touch the metal pendant hanging from his neck as a sort of comfort, feeling tips of the stars and the outline of the phoenix.

‟You don’t, eh? Then how did you end up here with all of us on this specific planet and this specific barge at this specific time?” Mattix gestured widely to the desert around them and turned around leaning against the rail and hooking his elbow over the top. ‟You may be only eighteen, and I may not know too much about your past yet, Alex, but I do know this: destiny is a funny thing, and sometimes we don’t realize it until it’s too late. Well, that is enough banter for this old man. I’ll see you again once we get to Eredhen so I can give you a proper Arcadian welcome.”

He pushed off the railing and brushed his hands together before patting Alex on the back and walking away. His footsteps clanked across the metal flooring until he reached the door and disappeared into the dark interior.