The sky bled, the red sun painting everything it touched in the color of blood. Under its scorching heat, a caravan trekked across the boundless land of red.
"How much longer do we have to suffer?" asked a dark-skinned, youthful-looking man. He winced as his cracked, dry lips split further with every word. Tightening the reins on the camel beneath him, he shifted in the saddle. Even the hard-trained beast beneath him groaned in protest.
"We're almost through the Blood Plains," the middle-aged man beside him replied. His condition was slightly better, but even his eyes were dulled with exhaustion. "After this, we'll reach the Kingdom of Abundance."
Four others followed behind them in silence, their faces weathered and worn, each etched with the harsh truth of the journey.
Five camels walked in a line between them, tied together with thick rope. Their backs sagged under heavy bundles of cloth, supplies, and empty water skins. They, too, stumbled in the sweltering heat—creatures bred for endurance now reduced to struggling shapes against the red horizon.
The sun climbed ever higher, as if determined to burn away the last remnants of hope. The caravan trudged forward, swallowed by a sea of cracked earth and endless crimson dust.
The youth stared ahead with glassed eyes when suddenly a flicker appeared in the brown orbs—something shimmered on the horizon.
"Look—there!" he shouted, pointing forward, not caring as another crack split across his lips. Blood beaded, but he didn't notice.
All heads turned. Eyes squinted against the shimmering waves of heat.
And then they saw it.
A glint of green. Small, distant, trembling in the mirage—but unmistakably real. A lone smudge of color on the edge of a world that had forgotten any shade but red.
"By the gods…" someone whispered.
Hope returned like a breath of wind.
The middle-aged man stared long and hard, then muttered with disbelief, "That's no illusion. That's the treetops of Ilyara."
"Ilyara?" the youth asked, barely daring to believe.
He nodded. "The outer forests of the Kingdom of Abundance. We've made it."
They urged the weary animals beneath them forward—creatures that now moved with a strange new energy, as if the sight of green had poured life into their tired bones. That same vigor stirred within the riders' hearts, banishing doubt for just a moment.
They rode and rode, but the green smudge on the horizon grew painfully slow in size. Doubt crept back in, whispering cruelly in their minds. What if it was just another illusion? A mirage—like the ones that had lured four of their companions to death.
Some had fallen to thirst, others to heatstroke. A few simply lay down and never got up again, their minds broken by scorching winds and relentless red. For two long months, they had wandered the Blood Plains, clinging to hope like a fraying rope.
But still—they pressed forward, as if bound by a force greater than reason. Determination, or madness. Maybe both.
And then, after what felt like an eternity, they reached it.
They stood at the edge of a forest unlike anything they had ever seen. Towering trees with bark like stone and leaves the color of jade loomed above them. The middle-aged man dismounted in silence and stepped forward, eyes wide.
His fingers brushed the coarse bark of a massive tree. It was real. Solid. Alive.
He tilted his head back, gazing up at the canopy that seemed to touch the heavens.
"This is it," he whispered. "The Land of Abundance."
His lips curled into a weary smile. "We're finally here."
One by one, they dismounted and guided their camels into the forest. The air shifted around them—cool, moist, and sweet with the scent of green life. For the first time in months, they were no longer beneath the burning eye of the red sun. The trees formed a living shield above them.
Soon, they came upon a fountain of clear water, bubbling from a rock and flowing into a crystal stream. It sparkled like something out of a dream.
Without hesitation, the youth leapt from his saddle and stumbled into the stream. He dropped to his knees and drank deeply, greedily, like a man reborn. The others followed, washing their cracked faces, cupping the miracle water in trembling hands.
Laughter, raw and broken, echoed through the trees.
They had made it.
They were alive.
After a while, they walked through the serene forest as the greenery slowly gave way, and towering stone walls came into view.
"Is this the Kingdom of Abundance?" the youth asked, mesmerized.
The man beside him simply nodded as they approached the gate.
"Who are you?" the knight standing at the large metal gates demanded as they drew closer.
"We are nomads. We seek refuge," the man replied calmly.
The silver-clad knight scanned them carefully as the man introduced himself.
"My name is Thyron, and this is my son, Alric," he said, nodding toward the boy before turning to those behind him. "These are our companions—Amice, Ambel, Ellis, and Eldous."
Alric felt uneasy under the knight's piercing gaze, as if he were pricked by invisible needles. The prolonged silence made him restless.
"May the goddess protect you," the knight finally spoke, then called a soldier over.
"You have no identity here, but fear not. Follow this man to the Cathedral of Abundance. You will be guided further there," he said.
Alric exhaled deeply, unaware he'd been holding his breath as they stood ready to step inside the gate.
"Wait," the knight's voice called from behind.
They halted and turned back.
"Leave your luggage behind. It will be searched and delivered to the cathedral later," the knight ordered after a pause.
They exchanged glances, but had no choice. Reluctantly, they loosened the reins and followed the soldier inside.
"Sir, do you really believe they crossed the Blood Plains?" a soldier asked the knight quietly.
"Especially in this condition, at this time of year, and without proper preparation?"
The knight listened as his eyes followed the figures moving away.
"The goddess protects all. They are blessed to be alive," he answered, turning away.
"Search their belongings," he commanded as soldiers moved toward the camels.
Alric followed silently as he scanned his surroundings:
The streets of the Kingdom of Abundance stretched wide and alive, paved with cobblestones worn smooth by generations of feet. Tall timber-framed houses with steeply pitched roofs leaned close, their windows flickering with candlelight despite the dusk settling over the city. Smoke from hearth fires curled upward, carrying scents of baking bread, roasting meats, and fragrant herbs.
Merchants called out in booming voices, hawking goods from crates piled high—fresh fruits glistened beside bolts of cloth dyed in deep crimsons and rich greens, their colors more vivid than anything Alric had ever seen. Blacksmiths hammered glowing iron, their sparks dancing like fireflies in the cool evening air.
Children darted through narrow alleys, chasing one another with careless laughter. Townsfolk paused to glance at the newcomers, some curious, others wary. Guards clad in polished steel and tabards emblazoned with the strange symbol patrolled the streets with steady vigilance.
Alric's eyes traveled upward, drawn by the towering spires piercing the darkening sky—the cathedral.
The cathedral of the Kingdom of Abundance rose like a mountain carved from stone and stained glass. Its massive walls were adorned with intricate carvings of vines and mythical beasts. Gargoyles perched on ledges, their grim faces watching over the city below. Tall stained-glass windows caught the last rays of the setting red sun, flooding the streets with shards of ruby, emerald, and sapphire light.
The air seemed to hum with reverence and power.
As they moved closer, the cobblestones gave way to wide steps leading up to the cathedral's great wooden doors, studded with iron and worn smooth by centuries of hands. The soldier halted before knocking on the doors.
After a moment's pause, a man emerged from within.He wore flowing white robes, their purity shining even in the fading light, and his eyes held a calm, clear gaze.
"May the goddess's mercy never fail," he intoned solemnly, his voice steady as he met the soldier's gaze who echoed his words.
The soldier then relayed what had been told at the gate, while Alric's gaze wandered.
The Land of Abundance was just as the legends had described.
In his nineteen years of wandering, he had never seen a place so serene, nor people so content. He had witnessed war, death, hunger, and madness—but this was something altogether different.
And strangely, he did not hate it.
The man in white listened intently, his eyes softening with a growing kindness as the soldier spoke.
"Come inside and rest, my children," he said gently, stepping aside and opening the heavy doors of the cathedral wide. "The goddess has shielded you through the Blood Plains. You are her guests here."
They walked to the cathedral and stepped aside.