My first step felt heavier than I expected, the cracked ground shifting under the weight of my boot. The cracks whispered, releasing a hiss of stale air. I ignored it. One step after another, I walked, letting my posture settle into that quiet alertness that had become second nature over decades of walking uncertain paths. The horizon didn't seem to grow closer, but I didn't let that deter me. If this was a half-realm, illusions might distort distance. I wouldn't know until I tried.
As I moved, dust rose in little puffs around my feet. Some of it clung to the hem of my coat, painting it a dull gray. My breathing steadied, each inhale tinged with that faint metallic tang. The emptiness pressed in on me, but I refused to let it intimidate me. I'd walked alone many times, in many sorts of deserts and labyrinths, both literal and metaphorical. Loneliness was an old companion.
