I opened my eyes, still feeling the rhythmic gait of the horse beneath me. Mira’s familiar warmth was at my back. But as soon as I tried to focus my gaze, the world decided to split in two. The image blurred; the outlines of the trees and the road overlaid one another, creating the sickening effect of a mirror labyrinth.

  "Well, that’s just great..." I muttered aloud.

  "Hallucinations again, Zen?" my sister’s voice sounded from right beside me.

  She covered my eyes with her palm. Her fingers began to glow with a soft emerald light.

  "Guess who?" she asked playfully.

  "I have no idea..." I smiled weakly. "Could it be Mira?"

  "Correct!"

  She pulled her hand away, and the world instantly snapped back to normal. The sharpness returned; the double vision vanished. I hopped over onto my own horse. I was officially tired of the sound of hooves hitting the ground, and the scenery wasn't exactly inspiring long strolls.

  I focused.

  POP.

  We materialized on the outskirts of some village in a different country. It was a wretched sight. Emptiness. The houses stood with shattered windows; the fields lay black and dry, as if they had been scorched from the inside out. We walked down the main street. Not a soul. Only in one of the huts did I notice a lone skeleton leaning against the stove.

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  We headed deeper into the forest. The silence here was unnatural—no birds, no chirping insects. On the other hand, there were more than enough traps: hidden pits with stakes, tripwires, nooses.

  "Human traps," I stated, stepping over one.

  "Yeah," Mira narrowed her eyes. "Looks like cannibals have moved in here. In times of famine, people quickly remember that they are also made of meat."

  At the entrance to a small cave, three men jumped out from the bushes. They were dressed decently, but their eyes held a wild, animal hunger and long-standing fear.

  "Oh, travelers..." one began, licking his lips carnivorously.

  Alastor didn't wait for the rest. He simply walked up to the talker and, with one bored motion, tore the man’s head from his shoulders. Cleanly, like a ripe apple from a branch.

  The other two drew their daggers in terror, but Poverty had already sunk its teeth into their throats. A second later, there were two fewer cannibals in the forest.

  Alastor disgustedly wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his farmer's shirt.

  "God, it’s been a while since I’ve done that..." he grumbled. "My jaw was practically cramping up."

  We moved on. Soon, a rumble reached us—the heavy, rhythmic stomp of hundreds of feet and the neighing of horses. In the distance, along the main road, an army was marching. Straight rows of steel, banners, dust rising to the heavens.

  "Mira, should we just wipe them out?" I asked, feeling the itch starting in my bones again. "Just so they don't get in our way?"

  "No," she cut me off. "That’s not our problem. Let them fight if they want to so badly. We have a more important goal."

  We walked for a long time. The vegetation disappeared entirely. The soil beneath our feet became dry and gray, like ash.

  And then, a palace appeared on the horizon.

  It was a strange, majestic building that looked like a mockery in the midst of this dead world. Lights burned in the windows. Living, warm lights in a land where everything should have gone dark long ago.