Under the three moons gazing down at the endless Bleeding Desert, a young man with silver hair walked calmly through the sand.
Behind him, a figure clad in a black cloak walked in silence. Dangling on its shoulder was a female covered in dry, cracked blood.
Her breathing was faint, and her face was deathly pale, as if she was struggling to draw each breath.
For a long moment, the only sounds that echoed were the footsteps of the young man, the cloaked figure, and the soft groans of the young woman dangling on its shoulder.
The desert wind howled fiercely in their ears, and in the distance, they could see the dunes shimmering like mirages.
Beauty born from danger and death.
Finally, the young man halted his track, and the cloaked figure dropped the young woman roughly to the ground.
Ahhh!
A sharp cry of pain escaped from her lips as she crashed onto the cold sand.
She licked the fresh blood from the corner of her lips and raised her head to look at the young man.
