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Her master had sent her out with very specific instructions. She was to wander the edge of the great gorge until the heat of the sun became intense enough to melt the wax seal around her neck, and then look for the sign. It would lead her to exactly where she was meant to be. She had no reason to doubt that it would happen. Chessek had never been wrong.

Illinia swept the cloak around her head as the sun rose. Its powerful rays spread across the sands as miles of frost were whipped up into steam with the winds of the dawn’s heat. For a few minutes, nothing would be visible: just a disorienting mix of steam and swirling sand. She felt ahead, grasping for the gorge’s edge, to stabilize herself. The cloak’s fine ornamentation was already losing its color, and its threads where whipping in the windstorm around her.

“My herald, you are still attached to being and value, to life and beauty. Behold this cloak, the life’s work of a thousand Sarpadian dwarves, I am told. It is beautiful and valuable. It contains the investment of the energies of so many lives. Take it with you. Wear it for protection, and see if it shields you from the ravages of the Wastes.”

The cloak was nearly completely grayed when its diamond clasps turned to ash and the remains of that once beautiful relic swept away in the morningstorm. Illinia stood in the storm, trying to find it. She had learned again that Chessek was right. He never taught her, but she learned. She stood, exposed now, and last swirls of sand dug into her skin. The sand cleared and the sun shone upon her.

She marched ahead along the face of the cliff. The wax seal was beginning to melt. She climbed onto a rock formation to get a view of her position. Nothing looked the same as it did at night and she had no idea where she was. She may be a servant of the Wastelord, but she was still human, and humans are no good during the day. If only she could fade away into nothing, the suffering would end. Her bleeding cheeks would feel no pain if they would melt into ash. Her blistering skin would be soothed if it were nothing but lifeless stone.

The last drops of the wax seal dripped onto Illinia’s hand and as she looked at the rope around her neck, now without the seal attached to it, she knew she had to find the sign.

“When this wax seal melts away, your last thoughts will be a sign. Follow the sign and deliver my message when you arrive. This the void has foretold will come to pass.”

Illinia’s thoughts raced. She hadn’t even been paying attention. The wax seal had melted away and she had lost her concentration in the duststorm. She had never failed Chessek before and worried what would happen to her.

No, she knew. She would be like the cloak, rendered into so much dust and graysand. Her pain would finally be ended. She would become the lifeless stone form she had daydreamed of. Illinia picked herself up from the scorching stone and climbed down from the rock formation, only to find that it was now ground level. But Illinia’s spirits were strangely lifted by the idea that she might finally come to an end of her life, and shifting sands wouldn’t bother her now. She marched ahead, not sure where she was going.

A few paces later, she stopped. A statue stood in front of her, half-buried in the sands. It wore a crimson cloak like the precious cloak the Wastelands had claimed just moments ago. Illinia thought how odd it was that she had not seen this earlier, but perhaps it had just been uncovered by the wind. But little is ever uncovered from the sands, despite how much they consume. The cloak was tattered and aged, but retained its vibrant color. The stone surface of the statue was pitted from what felt like years of exposure.

Illinia fell back in shock. The statue had moved.

“What do you seek at this burning hour, nightwalker?” asked the statue.

Illinia searched herself for what to do. Perhaps this was the sign; her last thoughts before the seal melted had been of the comfort of being lifeless stone, and here was stone, apparently lifeless, yet speaking to her. She went with her instincts.

“My master has claim to my life if I fail to deliver this message to you. I am to ask of you two questions.”

“I have no reason to believe that he will hear any words I give you. You will never survive day’s scorching eye,” replied the statue.

“Do you fear to speak to a dead woman, then?”

“No. You may ask your questions.”

“Who are you, and from whence?”

“I have no name. But long ago, I had a master myself, on a plane that lived off of its own power. The ground brought forth life and waters flowed through every valley. But he traded me to one of the serpentine lords, who ruled a great city here. That city crumbled in time and I remained.”

Illinia stood in silence for a while. This wasn’t at all what she had expected to do, and yet the questions seemed to fit. She wondered if Chessek knew how things would happen down to the details or if he was groping blindly like the rest of the wastefolk. But the statue was right. If she didn’t hurry, she would never return to the Wastelord through this heat. So she asked her final question:

“You have sought to find the power of balance in this world without a center. Have you found this power, and is it the way to becoming one with the void?”

“Your master does not know what he looks for because he seeks nothing and nothing cannot be known. Balance is not power, nor is it a thing to be found. Balance is something to be, and the Lord of the Wastes does not seek to be. He seeks after unbeing, and I can be no aid to him. This place is not my home, but it may well be my grave. Tell your master that the void is nothing to be sought.”

“If he had not sworn me to repeat what was said here to the word, I would fear to tell him these things. I cannot say that you have been any help in saving my life.”

Illinia gathered her arms about her and threw up her hood. She had her answer and hurried back to the Wastelord over the glassy dunes. It was not until much later that she remembered the peace she had felt when she knew she could escape all of this, even if it meant death. She could have escaped what she ran back to, but she didn’t.

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