"Are you quite sure we're in the correct place?"

"My answer is the same as the last time you asked but a moment ago - I am more than quite sure," an exasperated voice called out.

"Yes, well, there isn't anything here."

"Gandalf, it's a desert. There hasn't been anything here for miles." The old man cloaked in grey sighed as he and his counterpart trudged through the dry land. His wrinkled and wizened face was flushed from the heat and sun, despite his wide brimmed pointy hat providing some semblance of shade. His belt, which had been tightly bound around his waist, was now loose from constant activity and clunked against his body with each step. His long grey hair was tangled, his beard speckled with sand and a deep mumbling grumble could be heard about how he was most certainly never coming back to this forsaken place. The man in front of him chuckled and it took most, if not all, of the grey wizard's will power not to stick his staff in front of his foot and trip him into the dune.

The sky was a clear and light blue, the sun blinding and terrible, relentless with its heat. The Nafarat was a sea of rolling red sand. It's vast hills, sparkling like rubies, varied in size from small mounds to towering peaks. The air shimmered and wavered, distorting the landscape as Gandalf gazed out into the Unending.

"We've arrived." He looked over to his partner and couldn't help but wonder if he had finally succumbed to madness.

"Rómestámo-"

"May the Valar help you Gandalf, if you say there is nothing here one more time." Gandalf chuckled as he finally came to stop near his friend, sagging against his staff. The other wizard was clothed in blue robes so dark they were nearly black. His white hair and beard were hidden under a piece of cloth of the same color, covering all but his deep brown eyes. His tanned hands were tight around his pale silver staff. Made of beech wood, it was smooth and cool to the touch, topped with a chunky and sharply cut onyx. Gandalf had asked him earlier how he could stand to live in such a place with such dark clothing, the man had merely turned to him with a roll of his eyes and said "are we or are we not wizards?"

Gandalf looked to him now, knowing he could sense the shift between worlds better than he. "Can't you feel it?" Rómestámo's eyes were wide and wild, scanning the horizon rapidly. "The thickness in the air that wasn't present a moment ago. The smell-"

"Lightening." They both looked upward to find a black mass suddenly hanging above them in the sky. It moved unnaturally quick, covering the sun in seconds and casting the desert in a grey tinged darkness. It roiled and boiled over, menacing and quaking. A flash lit the area as a great boom of thunder filled the air. Gandalf latched onto his hat as it rose off his head and watched with squinted eyes as Rómestámo raised his staff, arms locked above his head, chanting words he couldn't catch, before slamming it into the sand. His stone glowed briefly before a small white dome appeared, just big enough to encase the two men.

"What's happening?" Gandalf had to nearly yell for the wind and sand was howling and screaming as it raged around them.

"She's coming!" His shout was almost drowned out as lightening struck and another monstrous clap of thunder echoed through the sky, the sand shaking and shivering in its power.

The wizards watched in horrified awe as great rift tore in the sky, the dark clouds beginning to take shape.

"Rómestámo, this is madness!" The blue wizard opened his mouth but suddenly they both fell to their knees, the pressure in the air increasing too much to stand, despite the shield around them. The heavens howled and they crushed their hands to their ears in vain. The ground shook as the sky let loose thunder and lightening shrieked across the sky, cutting and slicing through the dark.

The strange clump of clouds began expanding and lengthening. It's newly formed funnel shape twisted and curved in a macabre dance as it stretched to the earth. The men looked on, helpless as the sand began to rise a short distance from them. The small grains glistened like newly spilt blood as they floated and swirled.

They were thrown completely flat as the strange funnel suddenly shot to the sand and connected with the ground, sending a shockwave of wind coasting over the dunes. White light, stark and unexpected, blinded them as a last and final bone-jarring boom split the world.

They stayed there, not daring to move, nearly buried as they listened to the silence ringing around them.

Of all the foolhardy things -

A sharp nudge to his shoulder had Gandalf raising his head, sand sliding off him as his hat dropped from his head. He looked to Rómestámo, only to be caught unaware by the sun.

The sun?

He stilled, certain his mind was playing tricks, and fully opened his eyes.

The sky truly was clear, just as it was moments ago before the utterly bizarre weather change.

"Gandalf." The blue wizard's voice was barely audible, a rasp of a whisper. Both of them still stomach down on the ground, he followed Rómestámo's gaze to a not-quite-so-far distance in front of them.

For there knelt a woman, naked but for her white-gold hair draped around her as a curtain; fingers clawed into the sand and lips pulled back into a snarl as her piercing green eyes bled black.