"Where… am I?" I whispered to myself.
The words barely escaped my lips, carried away by the empty wind that whistled across the barren land.
I tried to stand, pressing my trembling palms against the cracked earth, but pain surged through my body.
My arms buckled beneath me, and I collapsed back down.
Every muscle felt like it was torn apart.
"I… can't… move…" I muttered and my throat was dry. My body refused to listen to me. I didn't even have the energy to crawl.
Above, the sun hung heavy and merciless, casting its golden light over the endless land. It looked peaceful, almost too peaceful for a place that felt so dead.
The sky was cloudless, stretching on forever, but the ground beneath me was nothing but dust, cracked soil, and silence.
I turned my head slowly, my cheek scraping the ground. That's when I noticed tiny shapes far off in the distance.
At first, I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, illusions from exhaustion. But no… something was moving.
The shapes drew closer, slow and deliberate. From here, they looked no larger than ants, crawling steadily across the horizon.
I squinted, forcing my eyes to stay open despite the pain clouding my vision.
"It's… something alive?" I whispered.
As they approached, the shapes grew clearer. My heart thudded weakly, a mix of fear and hope fighting inside me.
It wasn't an army or beasts of the dungeon. What I saw made me blink twice in disbelief.
It was a turtle.
A massive turtle, its shell weathered and cracked like the very earth itself. Upon its broad back rested a strange wooden cabin, built like a small hut with ropes and banners swaying from its sides.
The creature moved slowly, its huge legs dragging across the ground with steady weight, as though it carried not just a cabin but a whole world upon its back.
But that wasn't all.
Around the turtle, six figures walked in silence, their entire bodies cloaked in heavy garments.
Every inch of them was covered—hoods pulled low, faces hidden by fabric and shadows.
They seemed almost faceless, like travelers without identity. Their clothes flapped in the faint breeze, strange symbols stitched along their hems, glowing faintly as though enchanted.
"Who… are they?" I whispered.
My body wanted to crawl away, but I couldn't even lift myself. All I could do was watch as the strange group drew closer, step by step.
The barren land was silent except for the faint creak of the turtle's shell and the crunch of their footsteps on the dry earth.
And then, for the first time since I had appeared in this strange place, I realized—I was not alone.
Whisper of Barrenland!
My vision blurred, the world spinning around me.
The cracked earth beneath my cheek felt scorching hot, and the blazing sun above pressed down like a weight I could no longer endure.
My breath came shallow, ragged, each inhale scraping against my dry throat.
I tried to move my fingers, to lift myself even an inch, but nothing answered. My strength was gone.
A heavy darkness pulled at me, whispering for me to give in.
"I… can't…" I murmured weakly, before my body finally surrendered. My eyes rolled shut, and I fainted.
When consciousness drifted away, the barren wasteland stayed silent.
The only sound was the slow, steady crunch of footsteps of the turtle drawing near me.
Six cloaked figures came to a halt beside me.
The massive turtle carrying the wooden cabin stopped as well, lowering its head slightly as though it sensed the gravity of the moment.
One of the figures bent down, his shadow falling over my collapsed body. His voice was rough and deep.
"This soldier… he carries the mark. He's from the Castle of Theralith."
Another person stepped closer, the fabric of their cloak swaying in the faint wind.
"A survivor?" The voice was soft.
"How could one from Theralith end up here, in the Barrenland?"
The first figure touched the crest embroidered faintly on the torn edge of my uniform.
"It's unmistakable. He fought in the war."
From the back, a firmer voice spoke with authority.
"Enough questions. Carry this boy."
The two nearest bent down, their movements heavy but careful. As they slid their arms beneath me, I groaned faintly, caught between unconsciousness and pain.
My wounds burned at the contact, but I couldn't resist. My body dangled limply as they lifted me from the blood-stained dirt.
"Does this soldier truly come from the war?" another asked, stepping closer.
"Yes," replied the one holding me by the shoulders.
"Look at the scars, the blood. He's not just a wanderer. He's been through battle."
"But the war was far from here," someone muttered, their face still hidden beneath the heavy hood.
"How did he end up in this whisper of Barrenland?"
No one answered.
The six exchanged glances beneath their cloaks.
Then, without further words, they carried me on the turtle. Its enormous shell shifted, and the wooden cabin creaked.
Step by step, their boots pressed into the dry soil.
To the Dungeon Seven!
The clash of steel rang out in the dark corridors of Dungeon Two.
The female captain's sword cut through another wave of snarling beasts, her armor dented and smeared with blood.
Her breath came in quick bursts, but her stance remained unyielding.
Around her, the dungeon walls pulsed with a sinister glow, the air thick with the stench of rot and burning flesh.
She raised her blade again, ready to strike the next creature that charged.
But then—
A sound unlike anything she had ever heard filled the dungeon.
ZOOOOOOOOOOO!
The walls trembled. The monsters froze for a heartbeat, their glowing eyes flickering.
A golden ripple burst across the chamber, spreading like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
The captain staggered back, covering her face as the brilliance consumed her. Her vision blurred, and the weight of the battlefield disappeared.
When the light faded, she found herself kneeling on different ground.
The walls were darker, carved with symbols she had never seen. Strange, unnatural cries echoed through the distance.
She quickly realized, this wasn't Dungeon Two.
"This… this is Dungeon Seven," she whispered, eyes narrowing as she rose to her feet. Her grip on her sword tightened.
Her chest swelled as the truth dawned on her.
"The shift of time… that sound… That means…" Her lips trembled, her voice growing louder.
"Our King is alive!"
The thought filled her with a burning hope, piercing through her exhaustion.
She looked down the shadowed passage of Dungeon Seven, where new dangers awaited.
But for the first time in many battles, her heart felt light.
"He's helping us in this war," she said firmly.
She raised her sword, the torchlight glinting off its edge.
"Then I will not falter. If the King still walks with us through time itself… then Dungeon Seven will not claim me."