The jostling of the cart shook me awake once more. I opened bleary eyes to those same wooden walls, that same festering, cloying smell, and clenched my fists.

If these are the circumstances of life, then I can scarcely comprehend what could await me after.

I try to move my arms, my legs, anything, but in my heart of hearts I know it to be nothing but a futile endeavour. Iron shackles chain me to the corner like an animal, like a dog too feral to be contained.

I suppose, in some sense of the word, I am.

Slave. That is my name now. I learned it to be so, after the whip-crack drank the blood from my back.

Crammed in here with a dozen sallow-faced men for who-knows how long, it's a small wonder I have not yet gone insane. Maybe it's the window that has kept me going all this time. Well, Calling it as such is a bit of an exaggeration. In reality, it is nothing more than a tiny slit next to my head, an opening that you can just barely see through.

It allowed me to peer into the outside world, into the dense leaves and jungle plants that steadily evaporated into heaving dunes of sand. Our destination was unknown, of course, but in the end it didn't really matter.

We were all doomed either way.

I turned to look at the man sitting beside me, but he was silent as a grave. We had tried to talk, once, but the walls of our wooden cell were thin, and each and every attempt was punished until once bright eyes were turned dull and lifeless.

The rest of the slaves were much the same. Unthinking automatons that did nothing but eat, sleep and follow orders. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise, for I am sure they are no longer capable of feeling the same anguish that I do.

Recently, however, something has changed.

A sharp pressure began to build up behind my eyes, a pulsing sensation swelling in time with my rising heartbeat. Blurry motes of light floated across my vision, twinkling, dancing across surreal landscapes formed from the empty dark. Like a siren's song it drew me in, a call I was powerless to resist.

I didn't want to anyway.

I pressed myself against the wood, gazing through that familiar crack in a dizzy fugue. For the first time in what felt like an age, the barest hints of a smile tugged at my lips, as I beheld something truly beautiful. What I saw was intoxicating, majestic in a way that was ill described by simple words. Even as far away as we were, the sloping peaks of the mountain towered over all things like giants, gazing down upon the world with watchful eyes.

Ever since it had first come into my sight, Mount Targon began to haunt my subconscious in vivid dreams. Visions of stars and the sky, of shimmering supernovas and burning, cosmic flame. Always beckoning, always there, an eternal pillar imprinted into the depths of my mind.

And at the top, a dragon laid in wait.

/

It's that time of day again, it seems. The doors to our cell opened as per usual, the sun warming my pallid skin for a precious few moments. My eyes had become adjusted to the gloom, leaving me squinting in the face of our captors, their forms turned to blurry shadows outlined by the light.

With a grunt, one of the men dropped something on the wooden floor. I did not have to see it to know what it was

"Eat up, you miserable lot. We're almost at our destination."

The men laughed at this, a harsh, mocking sound, before locking the doors once more. Back to the dark we were sent, back to the cold and misery, with only a bucket of gruel to show for it. Was it too much to ask, to be able to see the sun one more time? To be able to feel the grass upon my fingertips?

I neither wept nor raged at this injustice. There was no point to it, really. Showing emotion only makes you a bigger target in their eyes.

The screams of that young boy still echoed through my mind, like a ringing bell, screams that eventually faded out into pitiful moaning. I'm not sure what happened to him after that incident, and to be honest, I don't want to know either.

Some things are better left here in the dark.

The rest of the prisoners hesitated for a scant second, before leaping towards the bucket like starving dogs, gorging themselves upon the pitiful meal. They ate with ravenous intensity, and by all accounts I should have joined them in their feast. We had all been eating the same amount of food, after all.

Yet, for some reason, I was no longer hungry.

My soul thrummed to a familiar melody, as I felt a compulsion overtake my body. With trembling hands I peered through the gap, and like an addict I drank in the scenery, the sight of the sprawling mountains satiating me in a way simple food could not.

I sat there for a moment, entranced, before I managed to pull myself away. It was getting increasingly hard to fight the urge every day that passed.

Ever since I first dreamt of space and stars, hope had begun returning to me in a steady stream. It was an insidious thing, for it tantalised the senses with hallucinations of freedom and strength, if only I were to escape the slaver's grasp.

Rationally, I knew the notion to be foolish. I was bound here by chains, and my captors were certainly not naive enough to leave the keys around for somebody to pick up. And even if I did, through some unlikely miracle, escape, then where would I even go?

This land is completely unfamiliar to me, my home lost somewhere in the consuming fog. All I know now is this dank prison, the foul odour of festering wounds, and the everdistant mountains shimmering upon the horizon.

And maybe, that is all I need.

With a muffled whinny, the cart began rolling again, transporting us helplessly to some pre-determined fate. The rest of the prisoners accepted the change blankly, as they did with most things these days, and whilst my face was devoid of emotion, my mind was alive with plans and schemes. The entire day I lay there, pondering various strategies, until finally my thoughts came to a conclusion.

'I guess it really is true, what they say…'

Always fear a man with nothing to lose.

/

It had taken a week, but finally, my plan could be put in motion.

There was only one situation in which we would be let out of our confines, and that was to serve as a sand walker. A Saih'kharash'i. It was a term mentioned in a book I once read, used to denote the people that walked alongside caravans travelling through the Shuriman desert. I had thought it so strange at the time, and dismissed it as some bizarre custom, although now I see clearly its true purpose

Whilst this land might seem barren to the ignorant eye, these shifting sands are home to horrors that defy rational understanding. Slavering dune hounds, hordes of flesh-eating scarabs, raiders, bandits looking for their next targets.

And if you were to look closely, you might be able to make out the shape of something at the edge of your vision, burrowing across the endless desert.

Sand walkers didn't come into existence due to some sort of tradition, but out of necessity. It was a glorified name for a decoy, one that would act as bait to the ravenous creatures that lived here, allowing for the rest of the caravan to speed off unharmed.

Of course, even in this we are never truly free. Our captors ran a rope from the lead cart to our arms, binding us, and preventing us from running off into the desert. We were merchandise after all, and the less product lost the better.

Bilgerats. It was easy to tell from their strange fashion and the scent of saltwater that stuck to their skin like glue. Wherever there was money, the fine folk of bilgewater were sure to be following quickly after, a swarm of locusts that destroyed all in their path. Raping, pillaging, looting… slavery was rather tame compared to some of tales I'd heard before.

They were known by all as the scum of the earth, and they revelled in their abhorrent reputation.

One of them came to me today, scimitar gleaming with menace, and told me that I had been selected. He unshackled me from the cart and pushed me outside, the hot sand burning my naked feet like stepping on hot coals.

Every step was agonising, but pain had become by now an old friend, and I bore the short trek without complaint.

The man seemed almost disappointed.

He tied me to the front of the cart, before giving me an ugly grin. His teeth were stained and yellowing, a putrid scent wafting from between his gums, although I suppose now I am not much better. There were no mirrors in my cell, but I didn't have to see myself to know my condition.

He left me there, returning to the caravan, and after a minute the camels started to move. Looking at it from the outside, the entire procession seemed more like a merchant's band than anything else. It was hard to tell that, within those dozen black carriages, there did not lie goods nor spices, but people.

I looked to the skies and was almost blinded. The sun sat upon its throne, bright and full, a lot larger than I was used to. It was a brilliant star, suspended in a sea of navy blue. I wonder what it's like to be a star, sitting all the way up there in the heavens. They probably have quite a good view of the mountains from their places.

Like clockwork, even the thought of it dragged my eyes towards the source. The slopes seemed to be getting closer and closer as we trekked over the dunes, even though we weren't travelling towards them. It was strange, but then again, nothing about Mount Targon was rational in any sense of the word.

Time passed irregularly as we carried on. It was hard to gauge its passage around here, so what felt like hours could in actuality be mere minutes. I walked and walked and walked, not an end in sight, as my body steadily withered away in the heat. No water was afforded to me, of course. As long as my heart was still beating, my condition was irrelevant.

Eventually, though, after a gruelling trek through the unchanging landscape, the barest glimmer of hope shone through the hulking dunes. It came not in the form of humanity, a saviour, or the bliss of a quick death, but as something small. Simple. Unassuming.

Half-buried by sand and detritus, a jagged rock poked its head up from the earth.

I crouched low for a second, picking up the stone with as much stealth as I could muster. I stowed it away beneath my shirt for later. When that is, I am unsure, but something tells me this is the right decision.

I was given neither rest nor reprieve until nightfall, when the blazing heat is turned to chill winds that raise the hair along your arms. The caravan stopped, and the same man from before got down from his cart walked up to me with a small bucket of water, setting it down onto the ground. My reward, I presumed. I drank from it without care, the indignity of having to bend over like an animal lost in my all-consuming thirst.

When I was done, the man turned to me and pointed a thumb back over his shoulder.

"Get back inside. Your duties are done for today, slave."

He grabbed at me with rough hands, and untied the rope in jerky movements. The knot came off soon enough, and for a single second I had become unfettered, free from the infernal grasp of my captors.

The stone pulsed within my clothing like a beacon.

Maybe this was my chance? The man had turned away from me for a brief second, seemingly to put away the rope, leaving his back exposed to my gaze. I looked around the area with a manic intensity, but all the other slavers seemed to be within their quarters, leaving just me and him, alone together in the Shuriman night.

The urge was there to simply charge in and be done with it, but I held myself back. Rushing in without a plan would only do more harm than good. Besides, the man was still armed with a sabre and flintlock, whilst my only weapon was a particularly sharp rock.

Still, I could take him by surprise. Maybe if I was able to sneak up on him, I could catch him in the neck, and put him down like the dog he is.

He deserved nothing less.

My mind became clouded by thoughts of violence and revenge, but once again I managed to stay my hand, if only just. It was probably smarter to just let him take me back to my cell. Safer, too. There was no need to be foolish now, for I had already gotten what I wanted, and to push further could easily mean my downfall.

The punishments served by these men were best put out of mind, lest I fall into a pit of despair.

I should do nothing, yet impulse still lingered within me. When would I ever get an opportunity as good as this again? Now that I actually had hope, going back to that cell for even one more night felt like the most excruciating of tortures. I could finally change something, finally raise my fist against this cruel fate, and instead I was cowering away like a mouse?

No. No, I was done with bowing my head, done with the slumped set of my shoulders, done with all the horrors I had been forced to endure. If I didn't do something now, then I would never have the courage to do it again.

My blood ran like lava in my veins. My heart beat to a pounding rhythm, a war-drum echoing out my desires. My eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, I stepped towards my target.

I gripped the stone between clammy fingers, before thrusting towards the man's neck.

He managed to turn around just in time to see my face.

The edge of the rock tore through tender flesh like a bloodhound, spraying a fine red mist into the air. Dark orbs widened, uncomprehending, as he opened his mouth to speak. Whatever it was he wanted to say, it was lost in translation.

All that left his lips was a tide of blood.

I wrenched the stone from his trembling form, and watched as his body slumped to the floor. I left him there, gurgling like an infant, as he painted the desert sands a glistening shade of crimson.

I ran away without looking back.

Hours and days melded together into a single stretch of time, as I stumbled my way across the desert. My mind was full of fog, almost like a blanket had been draped over it, as I travelled in an aimless stupor.

Day turned to night, but paranoia clung to me with cold hands. My every waking moment had become defined by fear, the anxiousness of being caught, the creeping dread borne of half-seen monstrosities lurking in the dark. Simple cactus had become looming shapes, moving ever closer to my position, whilst the whistle of the wind was turned to the cry of a hungry demon, stalking me from just out of sight.

Sleep did not come easily, but eventually exhaustion caught up to me. I barely had enough time to even lie down before my eyes closed shut, and I was transported away from reality for a brief time.

I fell unconscious upon those scorching sands, weak and tired and barely even alive, but my dreams did not reflect my circumstances, not at all. For they were littered with stars, too innumerable to even begin to measure. Even though they sat so far away, their presence comforted me like nothing else, a subtle warmth that radiated from all around. I basked in that feeling for both an age and a single second, before the stars, in their entirety, seemed to inch ever so slightly closer.

I am unsure of what possessed me at that moment. Perhaps it was a sense of longing, the desire to touch something that always seemed so out of reach. Maybe it was curiosity, the simple urge to know, to understand a concept so elusive. Whatever it was, be it from the heart, the mind, or even something else, the urge to reach out towards that endless night was all-consuming. And so I did. One moment I stood there, fingers grasping at empty air, and in the next everything had shifted. The night sky lit up in an explosion of brilliant fractals, as my fingers found purchase on something immaterial.

Starfire arced like lightning across my fingertips.

I awoke then, with pounding heart and heaving breath. I had experienced many similar visions since my capture, but this… this was far more real than anything else I had ever encountered. Despite my shock, my entire body felt rejuvenated, brimming with boundless vitality where before I felt more a husk than a man.

It was undeniably strange, but stranger still was the fact that I was no longer in the place that I had sat down to rest. I cast my gaze around me in a panic, before laying my eyes on something that should have been impossible.

Illumined by the light of the moon, there it stood, the base of Mount Targon, beckoning towards me like an old friend. The breath caught in my throat as I beheld it, close enough now that the very atmosphere seemed to be charged with an unfathomable energy.

How had I even managed to get here? It had seemed so distant when last I saw it, but now it was just… there. In front of me, calling out my name.

It all made a twisted sort of sense. It seemed that for whatever reason, the mountain itself wanted something from me, although what that was I could scarcely even begin to imagine. That should be a terrifying concept to any sane mind, I realised, but my thoughts were no longer rational, and as such it inspired neither fear nor depression, but hope. All I saw was an escape, a lifeline, a chance to get away from whatever grim fate that had awaited me before.

And so I grasped it with both hands.

I exhaled once in preparation, before beginning my ascension, one inch at a time.

/

I'm a degenerate, I know. Had this thought bouncing around in my head for ages, and finally decided to write it down so it would stop bugging me. I originally tried to write this as a quest on fiction live, but I realised pretty quickly that I didn't really like how the site worked, and that I enjoyed just writing regular fiction a lot better.

Hope you all enjoy