Prologue

The desert left little room for mistakes. You either learned that quickly or you were killed, the victim of dehydration, heatstroke, or one of the sandstorms that travelled through the wastes like demons. During the day the blistering sun scorched all in its path, and at night the chill winds stabbed and bit with cruel abandon. There was no shelter or shade, no respite from the elements. Just sand. Filthy, gritty, endless sand. Adder hated the sand. It was everywhere, in all directions; north, south, even inside his boots.

Adder's career in the Black Hole Army had seen better days.

Everything had gone downhill after he'd agreed to follow Hawke. They'd withdrawn what remained of their army to distant Omega Land, where the so-called Allied Nations had only small outposts, and begun to rebuild. It hadn't been long before someone else had taken control of Black Hole, and everything had changed. Adder didn't know who was behind the coup, or what motivated them. He only knew that Hawke had been helpless to prevent it, and soon after, both he and Flak had been removed from command. Adder didn't know what had happened to Flak. Nor did he care. He had left in the dead of night as soon as he caught wind of the news, alone. There had been no reason to look back.

Not until he had become lost in the infernal desert, that was, and even his uncertain fate under Black Hole's new master had started to seem like an attractive prospect. His half-baked plan of scurrying to the coast, hiding out in a luxurious villa, and ignoring every wretched conflict that wracked the world had fallen apart faster than he could believe. Instead of a comfortable retirement his life had become a desperate scramble for survival in a desert he had never expected to find. That was the worst cruelty of all. Omega Land was lush and temperate, not a hideous desert wasteland. The desert shouldn't have even been there.

The moon was high above Adder's head as he sat hunched over a tiny fire, brooding on his miserable fate. Nothing moved in the barren expanse except the flames. Then he heard something. Almost like a breath of wind, except here, sheltered by the dunes, there was no wind. Adder dismissed it as a product of his imagination and clutched at his arms for warmth.

Then he heard it again, something rustling just nearby. He snapped his head around and saw-

"Adder."

He was hallucinating. He had to be hallucinating. Perhaps the dehydration was getting to him at last, or maybe the myriad cruelties of life had driven him to madness. Such a tragic end for a magnificent mind like his, to be reduced to nothing by the careless desert.

"Adder."

That voice seemed so real, though. He could have sworn he was actually hearing it, and the appearance, so familiar… could a hallucination be this vivid?

"Not real," Adder muttered, his sunken eyes riveted to the fire. "You're not real."

A deep laugh burst out. If anything, it sounded bemused.

"I assure you I am very much real."

The apparition moved around and stood opposite Adder, on the other side of the small fire. Adder glanced upwards into those vivid green eyes, then shuddered and looked back to the flames.

"You're dead," he said. "I watched you die."

"Everything passed exactly as I planned. Hawke served his purpose, as I knew he would."

Adder was beginning to feel unsettled, but not because of his mental breakdown. This particular brand of unease was a sensation he had not felt in months, not since… no. He stopped himself before he could venture any further down that line of thought. Even if he was going mad, he still had the presence of mind enough to know it. Adder might have been a coward, but that didn't mean he would bow down to his own deluded brain without a fight.

"I need you, Adder. I need your help."

Adder laughed, a coarse, barking laugh. He had to admit, he sounded insane. More than that he felt insane. He was alone, stranded in a desert, struggling to survive, he had started hallucinating, and he was laughing about it. The sheer absurdity of it all made him laugh even harder until he was completely helpless, caught in the grip of this bizarre mirth.

"My hallucination needs my help," Adder exclaimed once he was sufficiently recovered.

"No. I need your help."

"My help!" Adder snarled. "Why is it that everybody always needs my help? Flak needs my help to come up with a plan. Lash needs my help to test her new toy. What about me? I need help!"

Adder clambered to his feet and turned his back on the fire, looking out over the undulating shadows of the desert with a maniacal look on his thin, pale face.

"Do you hear me, world?" He roared out with much greater volume than his raspy voice had ever held before. "I, Adder, need help!"

There was no reply, of course. Just sand. Endless, gritty, filthy sand, mocking him with its cold smoothness. All of a sudden Adder felt like a complete fool as he stared out into the wastes, panting like a dog with his purple hair messy and tangled. His outburst had been somehow sobering, and now, standing alone beneath a shroud of silence, his mind felt clear again. There was nothing there, of course. Just the whistling of the wind and the crackling of the fire.

Then Adder felt the chill caress of something cool against his hand, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the dread apparition return. How could he feel the touch of something that wasn't real, unless he was further gone than he thought? Icy panic shot through his chest and he found himself paralysed. His legs must have given way, because he found himself immersed in sand, staring upwards. All he could see was darkness. For a single instant the night sky was silhouetted against the black shape of the ghostly figure. Then the shadows bled together into a terrifying void, and Adder knew nothing more.