Ryven had no idea where he was going, and to be honest, he had stopped thinking about it.
At some point, the act of walking once again became just another unconscious action. It took him only what felt like a few hours to get used to it. Step. Float. Land. Repeat. The rhythm dulled his thoughts until they felt rounded at the edges, worn smooth by repetition.
He doesn't know much regarding stars and astronomy, yet even he could tell that he was on the dark side of the moon, the side locked toward earth and away from the sun.
Walking around, it was as though everything seemed frozen. If he'd had a watch, it would've probably been useless. The sky never changed. And the earth stayed fixed, unmoving, and unblinking.
Time here doesn't seem to be measured in hours or minutes, but rather in how much Ryven's body ached and how often hunger clawed its way back into his gut.
The worst part however, was no doubt the cold. It was as if it had seeped into his veins, rushing along with the blood throughout his body. It felt as if his heart was burning, yet in reality it was actually cold. It felt kind of like frostbite in that aspect, yet Ryven could still do absolutely nothing about it.
Suffering for only a little while longer, climbing in out of craters, Ryven finally spotted something far in the distance, nestled on the rims between craters.
It seemed to be made of the same stone as the moon's surface, yet it was definitely something man made.
Approaching, the structures seemed to be in ruin, crumbled and destroyed. A bit disappointed, Ryven continued approaching, hoping to find something useful.
Peering deeper, he spotted something towards the middle of the ruined buildings. Light.
Getting closer, Ryven reached the first ruined building.
'What happened here?' He wondered, staring at a large spotch of blackened moonstone.
"It seems charred, yet that makes no sense." He muttered. How could fire burn hot enough to char moonstone? How could fire even appear here in the first place, there's no oxygen?
He sighs, shaking his head.
'I should just continue toward the light.'
Taking another step, moon dust kicked under Ryven's feet, yet that dust didn't seem to settle.
Before even a second had passed, an arm wrapped around his neck, a knife placed at his throat.
"Now, just who might you be?"
Ryven froze. The blade against his neck was cold, yet his breath was oddly hot.
His grip was strong. Extremely so.
"Answer me boy." The man continued, his voice deep and mature.
Ryven felt something coarse brush against the side of his jaw. A beard. One long enough that its strands grazed his skin as the man shifted his hold. White, from the look of the few hairs that drifted into his peripheral vision.
"My-my name is Ryven," he managed, keeping his hands where the stranger could see them.
"It's my first day… or night I suppose." He mutters. "I was just walking past, and saw light. I got curious! If you let me go, I promise I'll leave right now." He continued, trying to shrug out of the man's grip.
The man looks down at him, scrunching his face.
The old man seemed to believe him. I mean, who else but a newly born dreamer would be wearing only bright orange briefs.
He chuckled for a moment before looking back up.
"This may hurt."
Before Ryven could even register what he just said, the back of his head rang in pain as the world around him turned dark.
…
Ryven drifted upward through the darkness like someone slowly swimming toward the surface of a frozen lake. Sound came first. Soft, steady, unnatural.
sssssssz… ssssssz…
It wasn't crackling, nor popping. It was more like the hiss of water being dropped onto something impossibly hot.
After a few moments came a sense of warmth.
Real warmth.
His eyes fluttered open.
A fire burned a few feet in front of him, though calling it "fire" felt wrong. The flames were pale, almost silver, and they didn't leap or dance. They clung low to the ground, rolling over themselves in slow motion, like liquid light sliding across invisible stone. Each time a wave of flame folded in on itself, that same strange sizzle filled the air.
Ryven tried to move.
He couldn't.
His wrists were tied behind him, and something rough bit into his skin every time he shifted. He twisted again, harder this time, and the texture scraped across his arms thick, tough, and uneven.
"What the fuck…" he moaned.
The old man sitting next to the fire looked over.
"Great, Your awake!"
The old man leaned forward, the pale firelight washing over the creases in his face, turning every line into a shadow and every shadow into something older than he looked.
He didn't look like some sort of hobo, but rather a distinguished ma who had recently fallen on hard times. He had a sort of noble look and demeanor, with a slightly long but kept beard, neat grey hair, and a bodysuit of banged up metallic blue armor making him seem more robot then human.
He looked like your everyday upper class gonk, yet in this case, he was a dreamer on the moon who relied on mysterious powers rather than humanity's technological advancements in order to gain his abilities.
"Who are you?" Ryven asks.
The man merely snorts.
"You are in no position to ask any questions." He rose to his feet, the space next to him opening like a gate.
The effect was eerily similar to when Ryven withdrew his own weapon from the magic portal, yet this one was not filled with darkness, but rather shades an hues of blue and yellow.
Ryven watched carefully as the man pulled out a similar knife, the one that was at his throats only moments earlier.
"You are only alive for one reason." He growled, rubbing the edge of the blade against his fingernails.
"And what might that be?" Ryven asked, his heart beating faster as the man continued.
"Dinner."