The wind howled along a ridge that overlooked a part of the Deadlands, reflecting the anguish of the people who forced to go beyond it. This ridge was the point at which all exiles were forced to leave from, to set out across the Deadlands to reach the lands beyond. This ridge was a place of introspection and thought, looking back upon their time in Tyvern. This ridge was the point of no return.

Upon this ridge there stood three people. None of them had met before today, but they all had something in common; these were the last moments that they would spend in their homeland. One of these people, the only girl among them, was Miralda Cristina de Reon, or at least she had been. With her exile, she lost her title of "de Reon," and was merely Miralda Cristina. She was born and raised as a noble, but she was now only a mere commoner. Strangely, however, that didn't bother her at the moment. At the moment, she only felt the hollow melancholy on the thought of leaving her homeland forever. But she knew that she could not stay.

She turned to look at her companions. One was a boy who looked about her age, while the other was a man who looked a good bit older. They would travel together across the Deadlands, then perhaps further into the surrounding countries. With a look, she saw that they both felt the same thing; it was time to leave. She saddled up and started to ride with them in silence, waiting for one of them to start the conversation.

Zhyle breated in a long breath of air. Tyvern air, pure and cool. So sweet to his lungs, filling them with the feeling of life he had felt in every breath for so long. Zhyle breathed deeply again, savoring the air of his homeland. He couldn't take the land with him, so he took the air. He didn't want to forget this feeling that carressed his lungs.

And moreover, he longed to breathe again in this air. He longed to return before he had even left.

Zhyle turned to the other two that he had been told were setting out with him. A girl about his age and a much older man. The girl mounted her horse first, and Zhyle observed. She seemed at least she knew her way around a horse by the way she mounted. Following her lead, Zhyle also nounted his own horse. This horse was one he had taken from the farm. He had largely taught it himself really, the only things he didn't do were teach it the basics. It was a Percheron, three years old. Not a pureblood, but one bred on the farm from some of the finest horses he had known. It was a little undersized compared to other horses and at first glance, it's most remarkable quality was that it was a bay. But this horse it was tough as nails. For all the time Zhyle had worked with him, he had never quit once.

Zhyle then looked back up, over the ridge. Into the deadlands. And away from Tyvern. And he hesitated, waiting for someone else to make a move first. Wanting to stay in that one spot for as long as he possibly could. However sa he saw the girl move her horse forward, he followed reluctantly.

Saerin looked not to the land the three were leaving, but towards the massive, barren stretch of land that lay before them. They called them the Deadlands, and he had been through them before. But he was once again bound to travel the treacherous land. Not that he cared. It was just the fate that had been bestowed upon them in this World, and there was no way to change it. Everything was as it should be.

He couldn't help but glance at his "companions." Both so young, one looking pampered and the other experienced, and exiled from their home for things that weren't their burdens to bear. Its sickened him, but he knew everything would work out fine. Negativity can kill and positivity can disappoint- the only way you can get through life is to look at everything objectively and keep pressing forward. That was Saerin's view on life, and he had the wisdom brought from age to back this up.

It was because he felt this way that it was he who took the second step forward, even breaking his almost stoic silence by mumbling "Let's get on with it, then." It seemed the boy would need the push to get him to actually leave this land, the one he had known his whole life and could not rightfully let go. But greater things lay ahead. He moved quickly, getting on his horse. He normally traveled without one, but then again he normally traveled alone. He followed the girl.

The journey across the Deadlands was very slow. The land, even while so desolate, just gave those who crossed it a feeling. That feeling was almost impossible to describe; it was like some form of deep melancholy, but it as exuded a feeling of danger and caution. Thus, those who traveled it naturally wanted to go slower than they could, and some places were difficult in and of themselves. This pervasive move did nothing to help conversation start. Among the sparse scrub and the howling winds, it would take a little while.

That time came about halfway across the Deadlands. Almira had finally come out of her reverie to look at her two companions. She turned back forward, and said after a good delay, "So, why were you two exiled?"

Zhyle looked over at the girl riding next to him. "Why I got exiled? Eh. It's a long story. But I guess we have time. A long time ago, my mother died. I was still young at the time, but, at that point in my life, my father broke down. He went into grieving over her and neglected the farm that the two of them had built. And so, I was left to run it. And I did out of necessity. Eventually, my father came out of his grieving, but found me taking care of everyithing on the farm. There was nothing for him to do. So he sat around all day. Then he committed the ultimate sin. He got bored. He began smuggling for anyone who would pay behind my back. I guess he was just trying to help, but... Then again, maybe not. He was caught and here I am. That's all there is to it."

Zhyle smiled at the other two adding, "But, rebellion seems to run strong through the blood of young men anyway. I'm more curious about how an old man and a pretty young girl became trators than the story of a young man such as myself."

Looking far into the distance, Saerin listened to his younger companions begin to discuss the circumstances that led to their banishment. He knew it was going to come up at some point. What else would two kids do when they travelled? They couldn't just sit there on their horses quietly like he could, and there was nothing else to really talk about other than the dust clouds that passed by continuously. He had been expecting to hear something sooner. They must be more mature than they appeared.

Saerin heard the kid claim that he was a victim of his father's crimes, caught and punished for acts that weren't his own. He listened closely, trying to find a slip in the story, but the boy somehow sounded honest. That was odd. Out of any group of convicts he had ever met, at least one of them was guilty. That would mean that the girl was guilty. But he would have to wait and hear her story.

The boy turned to the other two and asked them about their own banishments. When it became clear that the girl meant to go last, he looked at the boy and grunted. "Some people have the need to blame others for their own problems." He then turned his head back towards the distance and closed his eyes. There was a time to tell the truth and a time to leave the others ignorant, and he did not feel the desire to fully disclose his predicament to the others at this point.

Miralda pause for a moment after the others had said their piece. The old man seemed to want to keep his reasons secret. She understood that. She wouldn't press him for any more details. The boy's story, however, sounded a lot like her own. Thinking of this, she told them, "I was exiled because of my parents too. They were more loyal to their coin than to their country... And so I got to pay the price. My name is Miralda Christina de Reon, but I suppose I am just Miralda now. And you are?"

The land around them was slowly changing from the sterile land that they had been passing through to more of a steppe. The scraggly bush was starting to get more and more definite, and the ugly brownish-green grass was giving way to more living grass, if still very dry. They were almost to Haarpa.

Saerin slowly opened his eyes and looked around. They were almost through the wastelands that had previously stood as a massive buffer between their pasts and futures. It was time to move ahead, to start a new story. But what should he do now? Should he be more open? Remembering the pain of some of his past lives, he chose to remain (mostly) separate from others for now. And so Saerin chose to follow a destiny similar to, but not entirely alike, the one that had affected his previous lifestyle.

He turned to the girl. She had been kind enough to reveal her name, breaking the final barrier that stood between them as strangers and travelling companions. He turned his head towards the other and simply said "Saerin." Then he once again returned to his silent contemplation.

"Zhyle Alkuow. Pleasure. So you used to be a noble? Huh. Never met a noble before. I grew up on my... what was formerly my farm. What's it like, living in the city and all of that?" Zhyle started, trying to make conversation. The bush was changing so he could tell that they must be getting close to Haarpa. Either that or this was just a pocket a ways away from the border, and if that was the case, who knew how much longer they had to go.

But it didn't really matter anyway. They were going to get to Haarpa eventually and it would pass the time if at least one of these two would start to open their steel traps. The old man didn't seem like he could remember how to use his so his best bet was to make small talk with the girl. But then again, she was a NOBLE. He highly doubted there's be much to talk about or that she'd want to talk to him. He swore that if she started getting all high and mighty on him, he would take of right then and there. He probably knew how to handle a horse better than any of them, so he'd be able to lose them. That wasy, he'd get to Haarpa much faster.

But if she was halfway decent company he'd stick around. It wasn't every day you got to hang around with a pretty noble.

Miralda looked briefly at Zhyle before responding to his question. She anwered, "Well, I really can't tell you. I wasn't really allowed to go out into the city. My parents were afraid that the 'common folk' would 'corrupt' me and had me stayed locked up in that miserable mansion to listen to their private tutors on warfare and weaponry and the like. The only useful think I learned from that was that life is never easy, nor is it fair."

What she didn't add was that she had also learned the art of the sword from her Master, the greatest hero to ever live. It was by his experienced hand that she learned to wield her buckler and blade, and she had become more than a small danger during the process. In fact, she already ranked as a fighter on the level of the top knights in the army, and still improving over time. This improvement was inevitable; after all, her goal was to be able to fight on the same level as her Master.

Nearing every second was a group of small buildings on the horizen. Though far at first, the group got closer and closer, and it was just a matter of time before they entered the town. The terrain was still scrubby and sparse, and the village looked like it was in the middle of a harsh drought. She turned to her companions. "Let us find a room at the inn for the night. The sun is about to go down."

Saerin glanced at the town. Indeed, he had not noticed that they were approaching any civilization. He had been lost deep in thought. "Indeed," he said. Night was fast approaching, and he did not want his horse to collapse from exhaustion.

However, the more he looked at the village, the more odd it began to appear. It was almost like a ghost town. It may have just been Saerin's overcautiousness causing him to overestimate the effects of the drought in this area, but he could not help but sense this ever-present feeling of ominousness. Still, he was curious. He would go into town with these children to find out what was happening, and take the consequences head on... be they good or bad.

He began to prepare his items for entering the inn. He simply needed to slide his few precious items into the deep pockets of his cloak and he was ready to go long before they reached the outside of the town.

The wind whistled through the bone-dry town, whipping up clouds of dirt that floated in groups for a moment before settling back down. The most surprising thing about this wind was that it was bitter cold. The town itself was just cool, perhaps even a bit warm, but the wind was biting, making even Miralda, who was great in cold temperatures, wish she had been wearing her cloak at that moment. To get away from the cold, she lead herself and her companions find the inn as soon as they could. Just a few minutes later, they had found it.

The group of three first went to the stables outside the inn. There was no ostler there to take their horses, so they couldn't put them there before walking into the main part of the inn. The silence of the building was unnerving, and unnatural, considering that there should have been people around in the building. It was an inn, after all. But as the group walked in, they found there was nothing. No one stood behind the counter to wait for them, and there were certainly no others in the building. Just like the rest of the town, it was deserted. Miralda looked at her companions quickly, then looked back around. She didn't get a good feeling from this place at all. She said to the other two, "I don't think that we can stay here tonight. Shall we just ride on through?"

Zhyle calmed his horse as it pranced around nervously. Horses tended to do that when there was danger about, Zhyle figured that it was some kind of sixth-sense that they had. One time, he had been out particularly late riding and something simmilar to this reaction happened. At that time Zhyle didn't know what was going on so he just led the horse home, thinking that it may have injured itself or something. But that night, he heard the howling of wilves, far too close to the farm for his comfort. Ever since that time, Zhyle has firmly believed in this sixth sense. Something was certainly wrong.

But anyway, they tied up their horses properly and entered the inn. But when they entered, there was nobody to be found. Nothing but dust. Something was DEFINATELY wrong here. You would think that at least the inn would have some people to look over it. In fact, this town should have been thriving due to exiles entering and wanting to only go as far as the first town. Then they settle down and the population should continue to grow. Soon Miralda spoke up, suggesting to ride through. Well, it was a good idea, but Zhyle was't exactly sure if they would be able to find the next settlement, they were in the middle of nowhere after all, but he really didn't want to test his luck here.

"Yeah." Zhyle hesitated."I don't want to spend any more time in this empty place. We might just have to camp outdoors tonight and hope nothing happens to our horses and it doesn't rain."

With that, he turned and walked immediately back to his horse, untied it, and mounted.

"Yes, that would be for the best." Saerin had sensed something wrong with this village a while ago, but now that they were here he could sense something even more ominous- there was nothing here. There were no people, no bugs, no vermin... it was strange. Was it the lack of things, or was someone blocking his ability to sense life? Regardless, they could not stay. He exited the building with the others and mounted his horse.

Miralda followed them outside as quickly and quietly as she could, suddenly filled with some strange apprehension. As she climbed up onto her horse, she heard something off in the distance that chilled her to the bone; a howl. The noise felt like it ripped right through her with just its cry, leaving her shivering just a little in response. Whatever it was, it was certain; it would kill them. They would have to run to live. She yelled to the others, "Let's go," and spurred her horse off at full speed out into the arid waste.

Zhyle sat up on his horse as he rode with his other fleeing companions. Normally, this act would cause a horseman to slow down considerably, which even with Zhyle's skill he occasionally had to crouch back down to gain some distance. But most of the time he rode with his back straight and his bow at the ready, not drawn, but with an arrow notched. If anything was about to attack them before they left this town, at least one of them would be feathered before they got even close to him. He did not want to take any chances being even the least bit casual about this.

Saerin kept pace with Miralda as they fled from whatever had made the noise. He tried to remember what it was, as the noise sounded familiar, but he had not heard anything of the like in quite a long time. He was sure that it was nothing to underestimate, though. His chest-band began to give off a light glow as he felt a surge of spirit energy begin to flow through him, putting his mind immediately at ease. They could handle whatever it was, he was sure- he could feel it. He turned to the others. "You can keep running or turn and fight. I don't know what it is, but it sure isn't going to be left behind. If we keep going we won't be able to stop, because as soon as we do that thing will overtake us. I'd rather be ready when that happens. His horse slowed to a stop as he drew his dagger. He immediately felt it begin to writhe in his hand- it's spirit at least. It was an instrument forged to kill, and it could sense that it's purpose was fast approaching. "I will stay. If you choose to continue, I will hold it off, maybe even drive it away. If you choose to help, however, that would not be unwelcome." His chest-band seemed to grow brighter now, and the spiritual force grew even stronger as he dismounted.

Miralda jumped of her horse, the Espadanegro in hand. "Let us fight this thing off. I am sure we can handle it."

* * *

A few days later:

The band of three slowly limped into a town that seemed to be an oasis in the desert. The group had fought of the monster that had attacked them at the price of being wounded. Nothing life threatening, of course, but that thing, whatever it was, had been one tough cookie. Luckily for the group, the horses were probably more hurt that they had been. The town the found themselves in was actually bigger than just a "town:" it was a full-blow city. The most striking feature was a Colosseum that towered over the other structures in town. Miralda said to her companions, "Let us see about finding an actual inn this time."

Zhyle grimaced. "That would be nice. I would rather not get my head ripped off every night." he commented sarcasticly. What were those demons!? One thing was for certain, this wasn't like shooting pigeons back home. These things wanted to kill him. Bad.

He shifted nervously in his saddle and patted his horse's neck. She had done well, she had taken quite the bumps and bruises, and he knew she was dead tired, like all of their valueble steeds, and she would need time to recover. But with the look at this town, maybe they could stay here for a while. Well, any way, they would be forced to. Zhyle reached down and touched his purse inside his pocket, far too light than he would like, but that was life.

But then again, who was he kidding. He kept saying "we", what "we" was there. This seemed to be a temporary alliance after all, until they reached civilization. A noble like the girl over there could be taken in by a lord or a lady as a tutor or somthing, and the old man seemed to be the scholarly type too. But him, eh. He was a farmer. He would have to find his own niche here. But, for now, it didn't seem like the others had the same idea, and for that, he was grateful. Because as much as he wasn't going to say it, he had no IDEA what he was doing at such a place as this city.

Saerin grunted in response to the others. He had been underestimating the strength of what was following them, and had refused to fall back on his last resort at the cost of minor injuries. It was his fault that they had to limp across the desert for days- though, now that he considered it, they would have had to fight that thing eventually, when their horses finally collapsed from exhaustion.

As for his own injuries, he had been dealt a deep cut across his left shin- though he had bolstered it with an unnoticeable amount of spirit energy to reduce the appearance that he was hurt and to allow him to walk. Meanwhile, his horse had been hit badly in the ribs, so it would be discomforting for Saerin to continue riding it. Not that he didn't prefer walking, but it also meant that it would take longer to reach the next town. At the pint that they finally did, then, an inn was a welcoming sight. "Near the entrance or coliseum." Because of the size of the city, it was probable that inns would be located in both places- though the inn near the entrance would be home to transient travelers and traders, while the one near the coliseum would contain fighters and spectators. He personally had no preference.

"Well..." Miralda pondered a moment. Which was the better place to stay. Outskirts would make it easier to leave, but... What if they were to stay here awhile? It would be better to stay closer to all the markets. Miralda slowly said, "I think that we should stay near the Colosseum. That way we can hear all the latest gossip and rumor and, hopefully, news. From there, we could decide where to go from what we learn. Worse comes to worse, we could gain some money in the Colosseum. None of use are shabby fighters. It should work. So let's get a move on!"

With this, she flicked her wrists on the reins and got her horse in motion. She followed the main street towards th center of town, taking a look at the sites around. This city was nowhere near as prosperous as some in her homeland. In fact, it was not nearly as prosperous as any city back home. But from the looks of things, this was one of the major cities in the area. The city was also massive, so it took them a good while to get to its center. While they went, Miralda was quiet. It was really only sinking in now she would never see the splendor of her homeland again.

Zhyle watched the people as they passed them, trying to get a feel for the town. It seemed lively enough, although that was both a good and a bad thing. A lively city meant lively oppertunities, and that meant the potential for making a living. However, a lively city also meant thieves and cutpurses, which could easily sink him while he was trying to get afloat. He put such grim thoughts out of his mind for the moment and looked up at the massive collosseum that stood at the center of town. Hmm... It was located at the center of the town so it must be important to them, if the city grew around it. It was probably the reason that the city was here, now that he thought about it. Collosseum meant tourists, and tourists meant sales for merchants.

He resolved to go check out the colloseum later. Right now they needed to find an inn that they could stay at, or at least get some food for them and their horses. But as he rubbed his chin and felt the scratchey stubble growing on him, he wondered what sort of inn would even let them. Well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. First, they had to find an inn.

The lady's idea about the colloseum didn't seem a bad one though. There would probably be a few inns around there, but they may be a little overpriced, and many may be well out of the range that they could afford. "After, you m'lady" he said jokingly and followed her down toward the colloseum.

The colosseum was now a massive behemoth of a building that was perhaps 100 feet away. Miralda paused and looked around. There were a few inns, but... Which ones were good? Which ones weren't? Well... She didn't know. It was just now that she started to realize that being sheltered her whole life might be a bit of a drawback. She flashed a worried look momentarily, then glanced at the inns once again. She decided to use her ultimate decision technique; choosing at random. She started to head toward the closest one and motioned for them to follow. She would get them all rooms. After all, she was probably the only one who had brought a good amount of money.

Once inside, she inquired about rooms. When she heard the price, she looked down at her purse momentarily. Perhaps she hadn't brought quite enough money. She had enough to only get one room, and while it was still large enough for all three of them, it was only one room, and she was a girl. Of course, there was really no other option. She took the room, looked at the few coins she had left, then headed back to her companions.

She looked at them and said, "I got us a room for the week. It is big enough for all of us. That should give us enough time to figure out where we are going to go from here. Tomorrow I think that we should explore the city and head to the colosseum. If we go there, we can earn some money hopefully. So, lets get to bed." While she said this, she didn't sound pushy, arrogant, or condescending. She just said it like it was common sense. She hadn't even considered that one of them might have some objection to the plan.

Saerin followed the others passively around the town. Frankly, he didn't care what happened from then on. The battle had taken some out of him, and it was mostly his fault for trying to make a stand while his battle techniques were rusty from disuse. No matter. In the morning he would be awake and fresher than ever for whatever awaited them.

He simply grunted in an affirmative tone in response to Miralda's words as he promptly stepped into their room. He glanced around the room, examining the furniture with disdain. In the end he chose the smallest, emptiest corner of the room and sat down. From his pockets he brought out his tarot cards and crystal ball, placing them on the ground directly in front of him. He placed one hand on the ball, which began to glow slightly, and fell into a trance. His other hand lingered over the cards, then one by one drew three cards randomly from the stack: The 9 of Coins, Strength, and The 8 of Cups. He glanced at them momentarily, then reshuffled the deck.

Zhyle walked around aimelssly in the common room of the inn as Miralda negotiated with the inkeep for rooms. This looked like a fine place and Zhyle was sure glad that Miralda would most likely have enough money to pay for them. He sure wouldn't have had the gold. When she walked back to them Zhyle listened intently and smiled, "It will be good to sleep on something that was built to be slept on, right?" he stated rhetorically.

He then went up to the room with the rest and put down his belongings in the corner of the roomThen he stretched and turned back around, until something dawned on him. One room. So Miralda and the old man were sleeping here too, he thought. Well, the old man wouldn't be a problem. He didn't say much anyway, but he wasn't sure of how the little noble thought of sharing her room with two men. Zhyle looked over at the two trying to contemplate their thoughts. Until he saw the old man bringing out a crystal ball and laying down cards, like some fortune teller. That got him stood up right quick. HE passed the man on his way out of the room and headed back to the common room before he had even decided where to go.

It wasn't as if Zhyle shunned that hocus pocus with fortune telling and all that, it was in fact the opposite, Zhyle thought as he looked back toward the room. The thing was, there was no way at all that any of this gibberish could be proven. What if it was wrong, what f it got your hopes up for nothing. Or whatever. But the thing was, you just couldn't help yourself. You wanted to know.

By this time Zhyle had found himself wandering on the main street, and almost immediately decided this was a bad idea. HE shouldn't go anywhere without his group anyway, and especially not as nightime was rolling around. But he saw one shop across the street he just couldn't resist.

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A minute later Zhyle emerged carrying his beat up copy of a book from the bookstore. He had haggled the price down to practically nothing from the seller, because it wasn't like they were going to sell that copy anytime soon, especially in a nice district like this. Satisfied with his excursion he returned to the inn and back into the room, hoping the old man was not going to tempt him any further with any fortunes.