Gusty winds swept across the dry wasteland of Sereplain, shifting silt, gravel and dust across the barren land. The sun blazed mercilessly overhead, parching the earth until it cracked.

  Yet at the heart of this blistering desert stood the city of Caldraveth, the Oasis of Prosperity. Its palatial structures, housing the ruling gentry, flourished amid the desolated terrain.

  The city owed its grandeur to the two engines of trade and war. Both of these were sustained by a common fuel, that is, slaves.

  A myriad of ethos, stigma and statutes ensured that the slaves remained pliant and abject. Foremost among them stood the Ironclad Dictums of Caldraveth.

  Two of its cruellest decrees—the Tradition of Pilgrimage and the System of Nullius—drove a nameless mother to commit what others might call a heinous crime. But, her defiance gave her daughters a chance to shape a destiny different from the one designed for them, since before their first cry.

  Far beyond Caldraveth's walls, in the searing sands of Sereplain, two sisters, glistening with sweat and flesh singed from the desert's blaze, strode forward. The desert's plain seemed to ripple with the winds.

  It had been over a fortnight since the Mother in collusion with her friend—Manager of the King's Delight—sneaked the sisters out of Caldraveth.

  The siblings had long left Caldraveth's gaze. The city was no longer visible on the horizon.

  However , the ordeals in Sereplain had prolonged their journey beyond what they had planned. As a result their most treasured resource, water, ran out several hours ago.

  Fatigued and parched, their steps became heavy and their breath rasped. Yet their morale did not falter as they pressed forward with vigor and hope.

  "Sis, I am thirsty; don't we have any more water?" The younger sibling questioned sheepishly.

  "No pipsqueak, we don't," the older sibling spoke, then playfully smacked her sister. "But we would've, had you not used the last of our supply to rinse an armadillo."

  The younger sibling's cheeks turned red as she retorted, "Dilly was dirty! What would you have me do, leave her filthy?"

  "It was an armadillo, being filthy and dirty is its way of life. I bet it's bathing in dirt already as we speak... And Dilly, really? Could you not have thought of a better name than that?"

  Noticing her sister's downcast eyes, the older sibling sighed. "Fret not 'squeak, Cinderglaze our next destination is known to be always raining. Once we reach there you can drink all you want and rinse Dilly to your hearts content then."

  "But, I did not bring Dilly with me..."

  Patting her sister's head, the older sibling moved in front of her and crouched. "Yes, I know. We didn't have enough food or water to look after another stomach, but things are bound to improve once we reach Cinderglaze. It's a rainforest, there will be plenty of vegetation there—which means plenty of fruits and stuff. Then I'm sure, we can take care of ourselves as well as a Dilly or Filly."

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  They began walking at a measured pace toward the north where the horizon was obscured by towering canopies—overcast with dark, thundering clouds.

  Yet compared to the oppressive expanse of Sereplain, the prospect of murky clouds and imposing canopies seemed almost benign. Almost like a distant dream never meant for the sibling's imagination, let alone for their gazes. Still they witnessed it in all its harrowing and mesmerizing glory.

  Though it will take the siblings some more time before actually witnessing Cinderglaze in person.

  A few hours passed uneventfully, the siblings maintained their pace while engaging in random gossip every now and then.

  "I'm telling you sis, Sharkotus was an important find and not impulsive buying."

  "So, you are telling me that the abomination of a toy with a shark's head and torso mixed with an octopus's tentacles was an important find."

  "Yes—and it's a squid not an octopus," the younger sibling replied.

  Is there a difference between the two? The older sister thought, then responded:

  "Okay, but what about that water bottle with a thousand holes, which sort of defeats the purpose of bottles. And four quills even though you can't write, clothes far larger than your age and pint-sized frame, not to mention they were men's clothes—why'd you ever need men's clothes? Do you agree now that you do impulsive shopping."

  The younger sister's nose flared as she retorted, "That bottle was a fine artistic piece, which a brute like you could never appreciate. Art doesn't need to have practical use. I bought those quills precisely because I cannot write—how will I learn if I don't practice? So, no, I don't agree with anything."

  The older sibling agreed with some of her sister's points, I really can't appreciate art. She's right.

  But, she also noted several shortcomings in them, like she never actually practised to write with those quills, or how she had completely ignored the clothes argument.

  The older sister knew for a fact that her sibling was not a forgetful person. In fact, her memory was the second best quality of hers, the first being winsome charm. Though as for her other praiseworthy traits, I am sure some will pop-up as she grows....if she grows mentally, I hope.

  Noticing her sister's long silence, the younger sister smirked: "What? Did you finally see the truth of my ways?"

  She raised her chin and caressed her elder sister's arm: "Fret not, sis. I'm a forgiving person if nothing else."

  I wonder if she will forgive me if I stitched her lips. Better not to test it. The older sibling thought.

  Giving a smile to her sister, the older sibling said, "Sure. But couldn't you have picked a better name for that abomination of a toy... like Octo-Shark or something."

  The younger sister's eyes widened, she placed a palm on her mouth, How did she conjure up that name!?

  She recognised that her sister had come up with a better name spontaneously than she had—after many hours of thinking.

  However, she could not accept defeat, so the younger sibling flaunted a trivia she had stumbled upon: "It's not an abomination, it is called Lusca, a legendary sea..."

  The humming of wind slowly heightened, deepening into a low growl. The older sibling turned—and froze.

  Noticing that her sister had abruptly stopped, the younger sister opened her mouth to inquire, but before she could utter a word, the older sister spoke in a loud incisive voice, "Run!"

  The older sibling grabbed her sister's hand and sprinted at full speed. The younger sibling was in confusion. But one glimpse back, and she understood.

  About two dozen miles behind them, a monstrous cloud of dust, sand, gravel and any other item that the gust could coerce into motion materialized—a sandstorm.

  It crept in the siblings' direction at a terrifying pace and intensity, devouring everything in its path.

  The older sibling spotted a large mushroom-shaped rock about a mile ahead: "There!"

  She picked up her pace and dashed toward the mushroom rock. But the younger sister began to lag, she could not match her sister's speed.

  The older sister returned and gestured to her sibling to climb on her back. The younger sibling quickly climbed.

  Deep frowns formed on the older sibling's face, she made a stiff expression and lifted her sister, while mumbling, "Why's she so heavy?"

  "Did you say something, sis?"

  "Nothing 'squeak. Hold tight."

  Good, she didn't hear me, otherwise the sandstorm wouldn't be the only thing I'd have to survive.