Hesi drew the scarf to her nose as she fought her way to the top of the dune. Sandy waves rolled off the horizon, riding with the strong breezes blasting from the east. The deep trenches made by the cart's wheels cowered against the blanket of sand, fighting to flush them out of existence. She stalked forward, keeping the disappearing indents in the sand as far behind in her periphery. Her own tracks faded behind her the minute she made them.

Like their life, nothing was eternal in the ever-shifting desert.

Her muscles throbbed, especially in her legs. Sweat dried into a faint shimmer on her scalp. Her water skin was dry. The last stop was when the Mayaware paused for a drink in a small stream in the heart of the desert. Blisters and scabbing lines marred her arms and neck. She lost count of how many times she stopped herself from picking at them.

The desert bled out from her feet like a rabid beast; the dunes reflected every breath. Patches of dark green dotted the expanse, decorated by splashes of pink, yellow, and orange. Burrowing critters poked their heads from folds of sand, blink at her, and scamper away. If only freedom came as easily to her people.

The days bled together; the sun's eternal motion through the sky and the moon's appearance on a star-speckled sheet of ink meant nothing. Her heart never stopped weighing down on her limbs. The dread coloring her insides never ebbed to a faint flicker of guilt. Demons have her siblings inside a creaky cart departing from Agkhre. She wouldn't allow that.

Her mind twisted around the facts, coming up with a plan. Any plan. She couldn't launch an attack on the cart. She'd be shot dead They would shoot her deadrench the cart's handle free. And she didn't want to put her siblings in more danger if she brought the fighting to them.

She stuck to climbing over bouts of rock rising from the carpet of particles, observing with piercing eyes where the paltry procession came from and where they went. The end of Pai's scarf ticked her shoulders, reminding her of what was at stake should she fail to retrieve her siblings.

Would it be better to join her family in the afterlife if she did?

She shook her head, dispelling the thoughts from her brain. Time. She had time. Pai and Unsu were alive. She'd get them back, even if she scratched for herself a bloody trail. Even if she set on a path of ruin. Of heartache. Of sacrifices needed and met. She was Hesi Renen. There wasn't a thing she wouldn't throw away to fulfill the last promise she gave.

Keep them safe. She had already failed once. She wouldn't fail again.

The cart's tracks faded with the wind. She cursed, clicked her tongue, and quickened her slogs. The sand swirled between her legs; the heat bled past her trousers and hugged her thighs. Her breaths hitched, chest heaving to catch up with the effort the incline demanded from her system. A budding headache settled at the base of her neck, working its way up to the back of her head. What would happen if she keeled over in this hostile place? No one would help her.

It became an unwritten code. Humans weren't at the top of the pecking order. Every man for himself. Every woman to her knickers. No one would help a child unless they were blood. No one would stop to care for a stranger collapsed on the sand. They would not spare a single drop of water. Not even a crumb of bread. Pai and Unsu were on their own if not for Hesi breaking bone and flesh to save them.

It was stupid—unfortunate, at most—to be caught by the Mayaware. It was bravery but a shame to survive a raid. Honor lay in joining the captured ones to the fiery furnace, to end in a sea of blood. But as all human values, honor was the last thing on their minds in the face of death.

Call it cowardice. Call it several things meant to shame. To her, it meant one word.

Survival.

She reached another peak. She surrendered to the earth's pull on her way down. Her fingers clawed against the sand, the friction of the particles burning against her skin. She bit her tongue and pushed against the shifting wall the moment it started leveling. Her feet, now clad in leather boots, slapped against the ground. When she pulled herself upright, she raised her eyebrows. She wasn't sinking. The sand, despite being dusty and scratchy, stayed put.

Huh.

The familiar creaks of wood, the brays of mules whipped to exhaustion, and the chatter of Mayaware in their broken Birejyet flared from the distance. She strained her ears, catching the whiffs of damp fur and dried blood heavy in the air. Close. They were close.

Her steps widened as she ducked behind a timely sprout of rock. Skin pressed against the rough surface which spent eternity baking under the relentless sun. A hiss tore off her lips when a sharp pain gripped her arm. With gritted teeth, she leaned over the rock's side, staying out of the Mayaware's senses.

Her fingers absently rubbed the deshet branch sticking out of a satchel slung to her side. She uprooted the whole bush—because it was fairly small—when she came across it earlier and the leaves on her previous branch fell off. The bitter and earthy scent enveloped her, sneaking deep into her nostrils and polluting her brain. It was a while since she took a bath, and it was likely she would continue smelling like a plant for longer.

Slowly, she crept to the rock's side, her fingers getting used to the spiky debris digging against her nails and poking her palms. The cart stopped, the Mayaware doing the same. She narrowed her eyes, keeping out the sand from blasting straight into her eyeballs. A looming shadow crept from the horizon. It was not a mesa. Not even a mountain.

It was a fortress.

She craned her neck, tracing rows upon rows of bricks patched with mortar, rising to the heavens like claws of a dying demon. The walls stretched on for miles, making up the fortress' front gate. A single arch stood in the middle, right in the well-paved road the cart and its horde of escorts were. Guarding either side of the arch were men sporting sienna skin, with gold-plated breastplates and knee guards complimenting it. If not for the smooth heads void of hair and the narrow slits replacing the round pupils and glinting yellow against the sun, they could have passed off as humans.

Except they weren't.

Black smoke curled off the cart's escorts' skins, fading into faint wisps before it could even color the sky. Flesh squelched and churned, the scales being replaced by smooth, human-like skin. Now, they resembled the gate's guards, down to the off-white kilt belted around their waist.

Whoever owned this fortress, it kept its creatures fed and elegant.

She clenched her jaw. Her hand crept to the hilt of her knife, more for comfort than aggression. She rubbed deshet leaves between her fingers, hoping its scent would mask her approach. Her feet shuffled across the sand, the wind muffling most of her steps.

The cart was quiet, with barely any movement from Pai, Unsu, and the other children who might accompany them. Having witnessed another raid on their way to the forest, she deduced the Mayaware only took girls not past their moon-cycles and boys far from being grown men.

For a moment, she glimpsed Pai when the Mayaware hauled a howling boy inside the cart. The door shut between them before she could check if her sister was unscathed. Days passed since the raid in Agkhre, and since then, she had over three meals, no matter how meager they were. Pai and Unsu didn't step out once, not even to relieve themselves.

Then again, the liquid dripping from the cart's underside couldn't be spilled water.

She muttered a quick prayer to the gods she only believed when she was in a pickle, like today. The unmistakable smell of rot bled from the west. She turned to another cart rumbling over the sand. Unlike the cart with the children, this one was open. Just from the smell, she knew why.

It had human corpses.

Just what she needed.

Slowly, she crept away from her rock. She stalked behind the open cart just as it fell into a queue behind the closed kind. Unlike the ones with live catch, this cart only had one escort—a grave digger, more like. Demons sometimes checked graveyards made by long-gone villagers, those who still believed in the traditions of old, and unearth humans kissed by death. Corpses should still taste good if there were demons sent out to retrieve them.

With quiet movements, she approached the cart's enormous wheels, hoping the deshet did its work. A small sneeze shook the cart's escort. Frowning, the Mayaware shifted away, staring off into the horizon away. She gripped the cart's edge and swung herself inside. Bones crunched against her soles as she slapped onto the cart's floor. Flesh smeared against her skin, disturbing a colony of flies and maggots burrowing into limbs and faces. Her inside turned, but she forced her meals down.

The Mayaware returned, its shadow falling over her. She threw herself sideways, landing beside a man with gaunt features and matted beard. Sand clung to its lifeless skin and littered its dark, curly hair. She threw Pai's scarlet scarf over her face, both to hide her face from the Mayaware escort and to shield her nose from the thick stench of decay wafting in the air. A gag fought for dominance over her. Dear Ristep. This was worse than wershe flowers being cooked for a healing salve.

The cart lurched forward. She forced her limbs to relax, for her lungs to demand less air. With the smell permeating in her nose—a mixture of deshet and corpses—it was simple. The sun blinding her through the thin strands of woven juni fibers snuffed out when the cart came under the influence of the fortress' shadow.

Metal rails whined against hinges, the sound ringing down the manicured path. The wheels rumbled over uneven pavement, slamming her head against the cart's floor. Her teeth dug against her lip. No cry should make it out. No twitch should grip her limbs. She was supposed to be dead.

"Supply food down this month next," came the garbled report from the sentries manning the gates. She winced at the bad pronunciation of some words and their apparent lack of use of some of the important words. Thank the gods for the scarf over her face. She, at least, could show her features as mockingly as she could.

More broken sentences flew between sentry and escort. Up ahead, another set of wheels rumbled away. Must be Pai and Unsu's cart. The conversation ended with her understanding the gist from the few words she picked up. This fortress wasn't for war. It was for food. And this month, they hoped to double the quota. Berheqt asked for it.

The mention of the royal capital sent her insides reeling more than the corpses she curled with did. Was the Mayaware king preparing for some sort of feast? Was that why the raids increased? She was confident with Agkhre's distance—somewhere closer to the border of Ser-Neqhep than they were to Iren-Washep's borders up north—but a bounty it gave them.

Her senses came back to life when the cart skidded to a stop. Locks clicked, and footsteps scratched against dusty soil. She clenched her jaw when the world tilted. Her weight slid down the incline, joining the corpses. Her arm slammed against the ground, her ears exploding with squishes, crunches, and wet thuds. The smell intensified, invading the back of her nose in whiffs so thick she almost tasted it. Ugh.

She stayed there, unmoving. Listening. Waiting. The footsteps slithered away, fading with the clangor of the fortress. She was alone. Well...as alone as she could. Her hand flew to her face, and she clawed the scarf off. She edged off the pile of gray skin and black veins creeping out. Her boots hit soil, and she couldn't have scrambled off the mountain of the dead any faster.

The smell of rot clung to her hair, her clothes, and yes, even to Pai's scarf. It would be harder to wash off than Unsu's sweat. Maybe she would apologize later.

She stalked forward, treading past cages hewn from wood and steel. Splotches of red and beige were still clear in some. Might be blood or the occasional remnants of organs. She took a shaky breath and forged ahead. No time to offer a brief prayer. Those souls would find their way through the Field of Bells and board Topt's boat to the moon by themselves. Pai and Unsu waited for her.

The fortress resembled a maze, with corners, crossroads, and forks appearing in odd intervals. She passed an alley peppered with cages as huge as brick houses that once populated Ser-Tehra before the Great Shadow. Inside were human youths, chained at the wrists and ankles. All were without clothes, their bodies in plain sight. Her movements stirred some attention. Instead of demanding to be let out or calling to her in the native tongue, they stared at her with vacant eyes, as though animals bred in captivity.

At one cage she passed, two humans moaned and howled. The man pumped into the woman with no regard for who might see them. Up ahead, a Mayaware's slitted eyes trained towards the act, a hand clenched around a spear's shaft. She dove behind the nearest cage and dared a peek.

When the man groaned and sighed for the last time, the Mayaware opened the cage, strode inside, and ripped the man from the woman who still had her legs spread, her thighs still slick with brine. The demon gripped her by the hair and dragged her out of the cage. Before the man could follow, the cage's door slammed shut, the lock clicking in place.

The Mayaware heaved the woman who clawed at the steel-like grip on her scalp with desperate fingers. They disappeared into another corner, and she no longer sensed them. It wouldn't take a prodigy to guess what happened once the actual intent of this place sank in. The woman would spend months alone and surveilled, waiting for her belly to swell, and soon, for a newborn to crawl out her legs. If it didn't happen, she would go back to the cage, ready for a different man.

The putrid feeling in her stomach came back in full force. Darpeh. This wasn't a fortress for the Mayaware. It was a breeding farm, a butcher house, and a prison rolled into one.

What about Pai and Unsu? They'd probably be kept with the young, later sorted into food and what went into cages, forced to breed and pump out children for the next generation. She must get her siblings. Quickly. She found a fate worse than death, and she'd rather die than see her remaining family sentenced to it.