The Ruin stretched so far, it hid the stars from us.

*

IF THE DEADLANDS came from corpses, fire forged the Ashen Mountains.

Eris was three moons away from Akul's temple at the base of the mount. She remembered when she'd first visited; Akul had been long gone, but his sycophants remained. They sought to prove their faith, stalwart followers regardless of Akul's absence. It was then they demonstrated true belief, worshipping without proof. But so long as the bleating of the sheep grew fainter, and the ground turned barren, and the wind rose up in protest of the blanketing silence, Akul was everywhere, and for the acolytes, that was enough.

The temple had been carved from the mountain. A small building of edges and angles. It stood shiny black in the sun, and solemn without it. Vines of gold coiled around the columns lining the entrance. Inside, braziers hung from the ceiling, lighting up the altar at the end of the room. It was that same smooth black rock, and precious gold. Covered in dried reeds folded many times over to resemble forgotten things. Flowers and dolls with lovely hair, trees with fat canopies, baskets that had held fresh fruit, clean water, and soft animal pelts.

Behind the altar, they erected for Akul a throne. One which was simple, unadorned, and carved from the same black rock.

It awaited a king. It was cursed to always await its king.

Fifteen hundred years passed since then, and Eris knew what time could do. It made gold lose its luster, and columns crumble. It suffocated the fires and dulled the colors. And allowed emptiness to fester.

Eris's memory served her well, for as soon as Windwalker set a hoof outside of the Deadlands, Eris remembered. A great fire had razed the land, burning for an entire moon. It had flattened everything. Not a stump of wood or a stone from a village hut remained. The lakes and rivers evaporated. Thick smoke had blotted out the sky and when it should have rained, ash fell instead, scorching the land once more, ensuring what was dead stayed so.

Nothing was meant to survive.

Windwalker neighed, as the scorched land was stable and unmoving, and she appreciated the change.

Eris too, appreciated the change. The sun did not burn with the same hotness as in the Deadlands, the air bitter here, but thin and cool. She removed her headscarf, letting her hair tumble over her shoulders. The tight braids she'd woven into it the night before slapped against her arms.

She brought Windwalker up to a trot, the horse eagerly obeying. It had been years since Windwalker did anything more than plod along, so hot was the air it stung, so rare was water it was a miracle when god-blessed pulled it from the skies, that goading the horse faster, put her at risk. Eris had fed many to the Deadlands, and she refused to do the same to Windwalker.

Eris and Windwalker continued for a time, savoring the air and tepid sun, until both ended.

The sky grew dark, a low rumble coming from the horizon. Windwalker's ears pricked up. Eris felt it too, something gathering in the distance. Electricity prickled the nape of her neck, skirted up her forearms, frightened. She yanked on the horse's reins, forcing her to stop.

She dismounted, looping the reins around her hand. Her gaze remained on the horizon, as did Windwalker's.

There came a flash. A slash of acid green. It sliced the sky in equal halves, and left a lingering imprint of a wane smile, carved overhead. Sulphur perfumed the air.

Eris gritted her teeth. "Lightning." The word tasted heavy on her tongue, as she knew what it promised. Ash storms. Burnfalls. "We need to take shelter."

Windwalker nodded, her mane rearing up around her head. She pawed the ground nervously, clouds of ash rising around them.

The ground shook. Another rumble rolled over them as jagged green lines continued to slice the sky.

Eris threw herself into the saddle. Before she could drive her heels into the horse's flanks, Windwalker was off. Eris let the horse gallop. Wind raged against her skin, depositing its searing cold in places that had been pleasant. The horse's hooves echoed as they thumped against the ground, each one a beat of a forgotten song.

Behind them, the lightning picked up, the sky steadily turning green. A single piece of ash floated before Eris's eyes. She frowned. It was small, red. She watched it land on her trousers, eating its way through the fabric, and then it was on it her skin, pushing itself in deeper. Eris winced. The faint hint of burning flesh floated to her nostrils.

She urged the horse go faster.

Windwalker ran and ran and ran, trying to outrun the death at their backs. The death that sought to rend them with acid claws and melt them with boiling spit and rancid breath. The only kind of death that awaited them in their world.

Something dark darted into Windwalker's path. The horse whinnied and rose on its hindlegs. It kicked the air and snorted.

"This way," came a panicked voice. Eris squinted. A pale-skinned woman stood in their way, a tattered shawl wrapped around thin shoulders. She was draped in mismatched fabrics - faded browns, blues. A necklace of cloudy emeralds hung around her neck that matched her eyes. "My family lives close. We know of a cave nearby. It'll protect us from the burnfall." Her gaze darted skyward, and her mouth turned hard.

When she looked back at Eris, it was with urgency.

Eris dismounted Windwalker, stroking the horse's head. Windwalker was breathing hard, her ribs visible as she sucked in air.

"You would offer help?" Eris tilted her head.

The woman waved them forward. "Of course. Wouldn't want to sit by and add another corpse to these lands." She glanced at her hands. They were black, made so by the ash. "There's already been too many."

Eris glanced over her shoulder. Burnfall had started. "Lead on," she told the woman.

Relieved, the woman nodded, before turning and taking Eris west.

*

There were three of them already in the cave. A man in torn trousers, whose beard was black, and brow was wrinkled. His hands were stained and scarred. He stood between Eris and two children, a barrier of flesh, bone and blood. His demeanor threatening. A boy at his back and to the right wore matching trousers. His hair was greasy, concealing its natural color. Eris guessed blonde, like the woman's. A girl stood beside the boy, in a patterned frock. Whatever color it had been, had been lost, bleached by sun, faded by too many washes, or simply because time had made it so. She stared at her boots.

"Berru, my love." The woman ran, throwing her arms around the man's neck. He embraced her back, though he kept his gaze on Eris.

"Amarna," he whispered back. "Who is this?"

Amarna pulled away from Berru, her gaze flitting back and forth. Windwalker forced herself forward, as far into the crowded cave as she could go. She held the children's attention, their eyes drinking in each of the horse's strides. A smile rose to the girl's lips.

Amarna turned to face Eris. "I'm sorry. I was in such a hurry to get you to safety, I didn't ask for your name."

Berru's unkempt eyebrows shot up, his frown deepening. "Amarna," there was an undercurrent of anger in his voice, "you told me you were going back for-"

The woman perked up. She strode toward the girl, kneeled, and produced a straw doll from beneath her shawl. The girl's face brightened as her skinny fingers reached for it.

Eris's hands balled themselves. She looked away, the ache in her chest all-consuming. She felt like she had swallowed ash, her tongue hot, her throat scorched and raw.

"Thank you, Mama!"

Thank you, Mama!

The voice was a whisper, spoken when her time had meant something. Eris's fingernails cut into her palms and between her fingers, she felt the rough texture of hair slipping through. She felt the warmth of small hands. Tasted her skin - earthen and sweet and full of kept promises.

"Amarna," Berru said, sterner this time. "Who is-"

Eris turned around. "I'm Eris. And that is Windwalker."

The boy gaped. "I've never seen a horse before."

"Samiel," said Berru. "Don't stare."

The boy's head drooped, his eyebrows pinched tight. Whatever he had wanted to speak, shriveled on his tongue. Instead, the boy replied with a "Yes, Papa," and said no more.

Amarna wiped her hands over her skirt before standing. She beamed at Eris. "Come, please, we were just about to have supper." Her gaze ran over Eris's body. "You're hungry, are you not?"

Eris shook her head. "I wouldn't want to impose."

Amarna waved dismissively, though her face retained its smile. "Nonsense. We have enough."

Eris doubted it, but she nodded. In the world they had left behind, ash rained, and the land burned.

A never-ending wound, Eris thought, and in the shadow of the cave, she saw those eyes. Dark like hers, rimmed with gold like his. The beautiful, perfect whole, created from their pieces. She bit the inside of her cheek, swallowed the memories, and followed Amarna.

*

A table had been set for four. Amarna offered a seat at the table to Eris, but Eris declined. The ground would be enough.

Eris was served slop in a clay bowl. "We only have four," Amarna said, placing the bowl before Eris, "so the kids will have to eat from one. Lilia." She glanced over her shoulder. The little girl stopped fiddling with the frayed edge of her doll's dress, and looked up. "You share with Samiel, you understand?"

She bowed her head. "Yes, Mama."

Samiel snorted and crossed his arms.

Amarna returned to Eris. "We haven't any silverware."

"It's fine," said Eris, taking the bowl in her hands. She raised it, letting the brownish paste pass between her lips. It stayed on her tongue, thick and crunchy like wet sand. The sour taste dripped down her throat. She smiled as she set the bowl down. "It's good."

"It's not." Samiel wrinkled his nose and twisted his mouth. He glared at the bowl in between himself and his sister. Berru smacked the back of the boy's head.

Amarna's smile faltered, her hands strangling the faded blue panel of fabric on her dress. "I know it's not fresh, but-"

"It's better than I've had in years," Eris said, matter-of-factly.

"Thank you." Pale pink swept across Amarna's cheeks.

Eris continued to drink and chew her meal, as did the others. They ate in silence for the most part, save for a sparse remark from Samiel, which always earned his father's ire.

Lilia pretended to feed her doll and outside, the storm raged. Wind hissed, the air sizzled. The land rose and fell and groaned and shook like a beast awakening from a long slumber. The sky spilled green over the ground, red and orange fought for dominance on the horizon and Eris craved the blood-red and bone-white of the Deadlands.

"So," Amarna said, after a loud crack shook the cavern walls, "where are you headed, Eris?"

Eris stiffed. "The Temple of Akul."

Berru flashed his wife a worried look. He sat his bowl on the table, steepled his fingers. "You an acolyte?"

She shook her head and watched his forehead smooth. "No. I'm," she dragged her fingers across her thighs, "meeting someone."

"At the temple?" Amarna's light-brown eyebrows lifted slightly, like the gentle rise of a bird's wings as it took flight. "It's in ruins."

Eris's gaze dipped to the ground. "Good."

Samiel leaned around Eris, grimacing at the mouth of the cave. "Seems like we won't be leaving anytime soon." He leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. "Sleeping in a cave's the worst." He tutted, his cheeks round.

Amarna followed his gaze, frowning as she watched the ground bubble and spit black chunks of soil into the sky. "So it seems." She turned to Eris. "You must stay with us."

Eris agreed.

After dinner, Berru had gathered the used bowls and stacked them on the table. Amarna had laid out rough-spun blankets. Lilia and Samiel sat cross-legged on the ground, tossing stones at stalactites.

Amarna came to Eris, blanket in hand. "Here," she offered the thin fabric. Windwalker stretched her head, sniffing the woman's hand. Amarna's eyes widened before her expression relaxed. "Isn't your horse friendly," she said, a tentative hand running down the side of Windwalker's face.

"I don't need a blanket." Eris gently pushed the woman's arm aside. "I'll be fine without."

"But-"

"Use it for yourself."

Amarna glanced around nervously. "Are you sure? A cave is hardly comfortable-"

"I've slept in worse."

Amarna's mouth knotted. "But-"

Lilia bounded up to her mother, seeking shelter in the shadow she cast. Her light-brown head sprouted up like a weed at her mother's hip. "Mama," she tugged Amarna's arm, "tell me and Corma a story."

Amarna stroked her daughter's head. "Corma's her doll." She spoke to Eris. "They can't fall asleep without their stories." Addressing Lilia, Amarna added, "I'll do so soon." The girl beamed, before heading back to their side of the cave strewn with bedrolls.

"Do you," Amarna started, her hands fidgeting with the loose fabric of her dress again, "do you have family, Eris?"

Eris tensed. "I did."

Amarna's eyes widened, the meaning of Eris's words not lost on her. "Oh, I'm-"

"A daughter," Eris continued.

Mama, look! I drew a waterfall. Just like you described it.

Mama, look! A folded flower.

Mama, look! A bug. Are they supposed to wriggle so much?

"That's wonderful, Eris." Amarna's words were as soft as her expression.

Eris nodded. "You shouldn't keep your daughter waiting."

Amarna blinked. "You're right." She gave a half-hearted smile and made to leave.

Her back was strong and broad, and she cast a large shadow along the ground.

"What stories do you tell her?" Eris asked.

The woman turned her head. "The ones my mama told me. Same ones her mama told her. About when the Shallows were full of water. I always thought she was lying." She chuckled. "Still think she was."

"Why do you tell them, if you think they're lies?"

She shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. "Because I'd like to believe they're true."

Amarna said goodnight before returning to her family. The children had already been tucked in, Berru delivering kisses to each of their forehead.

Eris strode over to Windwalker and began removing her saddle, when Amarna's voice caught her attention. "Eris?"

She paused.

"You said you were meeting someone at the temple?"

Eris's hands trembled. "Yes."

"What do you plan to do when you see them?"

 "Die."

Amarna asked nothing further. She told Lilia a story while the girl snuggled in her arms. Samiel listened for a while, before her words ferried him to the land of dreams. Not long after, everyone was asleep, the cave filled with contented snores and drowsy murmurs.

Eris laid beside Windwalker, listening to the horse's breaths, watching as the world outside the cave burned and burned and burned.

Author's Note: This chapter's the longest so far at 2,500 words and I was looking to shorten it, but I'm going to be honest - I kind of love this chapter. Maybe it's because the music I listened to while writing it is epic and sad and gives it the correct vibe, but regardless I really, really think I like what I wrote.

Also, over 10,000 words written and still got half the story to go. :)