It's a strange, quiet sort of world. Peaceful.
And completely deceiving, given how deadly it can be.
This one is a perfect doppelganger of the desert: a vast expanse of sand and low hills, with the mine resting at its center. But the stars are brighter here, wavering against the velvet blue of the sky. It's not quite the Surface he's come to know.
He assesses the situation from his circle of light. A few Guardians stand sentinel around him, waiting. Waiting, always waiting. All he has to do is leave the circle and wake them up.
The nearest Tear is farther away than he'd like. He'll have to be ready to run, to push himself. To escape the Guardians when they open their eyes and chase after him, swords drawn.
He takes a slow breath. Tenses.
And takes the first step out of the circle.
The dark eyes of the Guardian closest to him burst to life. It takes them only a second to lock onto him. To unfurl long legs and begin its pursuit. To swing its sword only inches from his face.
He runs. Feels the blade just barely miss his arm. But he's faster than they are, and even with them breathing cold, metallic breath down his neck, he slips his fingers around the first Tear and clutches it close to his chest. The world falls silent again and the Guardians return to their places.
For now, at least. The peace here is shattered far too easily. All it takes is one misstep.
So he travels quickly through the realm. Gathering Tears. Running. Avoiding the awful, red gaze of the Guardians and their followers. But he's not afraid - not quite. He feels something closer to unease. Anxiety. Something that creeps up in him and rises to a fever pitch when the Guardians come alive.
Before long, only one Tear remains. He can see it waiting on one of the mine's outlying buildings. It's close, fortunately, and this fills him with relief. He won't be stuck here for much longer.
He moves again, renewed. Sidesteps a few motionless Guardians and a slick, dangerous pool of what looks like water. Close, so close-
But he steps in the light of a poe's lantern. It lets out a high, excited screech before it burns away.
Before it awakens the Guardians.
They see him. They move so quickly, so effortlessly through the sand and over the buildings. He has to jump, has to climb, has to do anything and everything to avoid them. But the Tear's there, it's right in front of him, and all he has to do is take a few more steps, so close, so close-
The Guardian's blade comes down on his back. Rips through fabric and flesh. He feels himself go limp, go empty, and then the world melts to nothing.
When he opens his eyes again, he can finally feel the warmth of the sun and the sand beneath his hands. He breathes into it, long and low. Tired, but not defeated. Never defeated.
Time to try again.