Chapter 70: In The Distance
Days trickled on and on, blurring together in an endless cycle of survival. They slept when their bodies demanded it, ate the last morsels of their provisions until there was nothing left, walked until their legs threatened to give out beneath them, and talked to keep the crushing silence at bay. The wasteland stretched before them, unending and unforgiving—a vast sea of cracked stone and dust that seemed determined to swallow them whole.
No monsters showed their faces in this desolate realm. It was as if even the creatures had deemed this place too barren, too hopeless to inhabit.
Their injuries were healing accordingly, the supernatural resilience of the Chosen gradually knitting torn flesh and mending damaged muscle. Arthur’s limp had become less pronounced, though the wound on his thigh still pulled uncomfortably with each step. Aziel’s collection of scrapes and bruises had faded to yellowing marks against his sun-darkened skin, the last visible reminder of their ordeal in the rose field.
It had been just over a week since they left that rose prison behind. Seven days of watching the horizon, searching for any sign of change. Seven nights of restless sleep on unyielding stone. The passage of time was marked only by the rising and setting of the sun, which seemed to grow more merciless with each passing day.
They ran out of food and water a couple of days ago. The last drops of water had been carefully rationed, lingering on their tongues for as long as possible before the inevitable swallow.
They’d be able to survive for a while longer, their Chosen status granting them resilience beyond that of ordinary humans. Their bodies could extract moisture from the very air, metabolize energy more efficiently, and resist the ravages of hunger and thirst that would have already claimed normal travelers. But even these extraordinary abilities had their limits, and as each day passed without sustenance, their hope began to dwindle like a candle burning down to its final wick.
Arthur had started training again yesterday, his determination outweighing the persistent discomfort. His wounds were not completely healed yet, but they were getting there, the angry red giving way to the pink of new scar tissue. He had decided to train at night, when he could use the darkness to relieve his pain—drawing on the mysterious properties of shadow that seemed uniquely attuned to his abilities.
Aziel was still walking him through the absolute basics, his patience a surprising contrast to his usual demeanor. "Keep your stance lower," he would mutter, correcting Arthur’s form with gentle but firm adjustments. "Your balance is everything. Without it, you’re just a target waiting to be hit." The lessons were rudimentary, but Arthur absorbed them with the desperate focus of someone who knew their survival might depend on these very skills.
It was prime daytime right now, the sun hanging high and merciless in a cloudless sky. The heat pressed down on them unforgivingly, shimmering in waves above the baked ground. Their shadows pooled beneath them, offering no relief from the scorching rays that seemed to penetrate to their very cores. They were trudging on through the scorching heat with dry lips and grumbling stomachs that had long since passed the point of pain and settled into a dull, persistent ache.