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The desert air was full of sand, and Raemos lifted his coat to catch the silicate strands and hold them back from his mouth and nose. The great bird screamed, summoning its storm again, and Raemos advanced, his eyelids shut to protect their empty sockets from the painful lashing he received against the rest of his face.

Sandstorms were a force to be reckoned with and this sandstorm was magical, and thus far worse. The bird screamed again, and Raemos was bowled back onto the sands, his sword skittering away. He could only watch as the bird took off into the air, unable to stand against the force of its power.

Finally, as it became distant, the storm dissipated. He sat up, shaking the sand from his body – he was covered in it from head to toe, and he could feel it in every crease in his uniform. He retrieved his sword from the sand it had fallen and stood, looking out towards where the bird had flown.

It had been an Alkara, a random encounter in the desert wastes at the foothills of the expanse just outside Tukyere, and it had taken offense to his presence. As he struggled to brush off some of the sand, he was hit by a wave of nostalgia, remembering the Alkara of long ago.

Another place and another time, and – in a sense – another person. The Raemos of then, the wimpy simpering child, was no more. He was different now.

Now that he thought about it, many things were different now. He started back to the barracks for a drink of water and a change of clothes to properly remove the sand. The appearance of the haughty bird was a sign, it had to be -

It was time to contact Maeron.

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