The team rode along the shoreline, the sound of hooves muffled by the sand as the sun dipped lower behind them. The beach stretched on endlessly, but the golden dunes eventually darkened. The pale sand turned black, and the brightness of the coast dimmed with it.
"We're here," Yosul said. "The Black Shore."
To the left, jagged obsidian canyons loomed like walls. To the right, the sea crashed in endless rhythm. Erik felt like they'd entered a trap—nature's own cage, open on only one side and suffocating on the other.
"Look! A cave!" one of the swordsmen shouted from the front.
The group steered toward it.
"Leena, Hisen, Rud—check the area around the cave," Yosul ordered, dismounting. "The rest of us will start setting up camp."
Leena and the two swordsmen disappeared into the cave's dark mouth. The others began unpacking. Erik, still adjusting his gear, was helped by the old man with the axe. Together, they built one of the canvas shelters near the firepit.
By the time the camp was mostly assembled, Leena and the others had returned.
"All clear," Leena reported.
The fire was lit. The mage of the group levitated a large iron pot into place above the flames with a subtle flick of his hand, and began preparing dinner. Erik watched for a moment, momentarily puzzled by the floating pot—then remembered.
Right… high-ranking mage.
"Hey, kid! Grab that bag near you," the old man called out.
Erik looked to his side, spotted the bag, and brought it over. The old man rummaged through it and pulled out a smaller sack.
"Feed the horses, will ya?"
Erik nodded.
"Take this," the mage said, a bucket came flying near him.
Erik blinked.
What the—oh. Mage again.
He took the bucket without a word and walked outside the cave.
He placed the bucket in the sand and poured the feed into it. One by one, the horses trotted over in quiet discipline and began to eat.
Damn, these guys are more well-behaved than most people in town.
The sound of crashing waves drew his attention. Erik turned toward the sea—and froze.
The sky had darkened into a canvas of stars. A crescent moon floated above the sea, pale and distant, fighting for attention among the overwhelming brilliance. It looked as if the stars were bullying it, crowding it out. The sea and sky blended together, stretching infinitely in both directions.
It was quiet.
And vast.
Erik stood still, unsure of what he was feeling.
"Erik!" Yosul's voice called from behind.
He turned as Yosul approached, hands behind his back.
"Admiring the beauty, huh?"
"…Did I do something wrong?"
"No," Yosul said simply.
A few moments of silence passed between them.
"Hey, Yosul," Erik asked softly, still facing the sea. "What do you think lies beyond the horizon?"
Yosul shrugged. "Nothing, probably."
"Nothing?"
"Yeah."
"Huh."
"You think different?"
"It just never made sense to me," Erik said.
"What doesn't?"
"…Nothing," Erik replied after a beat.
Yosul gave him a puzzled glance.
Then Erik looked up. "Yosul… do you think we're the only humans in this world?"
"We as in?"
"Runa. Do you think there are people beyond our continent?"
"You're losing me, Erik."
"Look at the sky," Erik said, pointing upward. "They say each of those stars is bigger than Runa. And look at how many there are. If a god exists… do you really think he made all this just for us?"
"Hmm…" Yosul tilted his head. "Maybe he's just really generous."
Erik smirked faintly. "Then let me rephrase the question—do you think we deserve it?"
Yosul looked at him now, truly looked. His expression softened.
"…Why do you think we don't?"
"I don't know," Erik muttered. "We die in a few years anyway. We fight, suffer, kill, lose… And yet we're surrounded by things like this." He motioned to the sea and sky. "Why would a god give us such beauty, if we're so... temporary?"
Yosul looked back up at the stars.
"…Maybe we're not as insignificant as you think," he said at last.
Erik turned toward him.
"I don't know what makes you think we don't deserve any of this," Yosul continued.
"But I believe we do. Maybe life's just a story for some god's entertainment. Or maybe he doesn't exist at all. Either way…" He gave a small smirk.
"As long as someone moves with purpose and give thier all, I think they deserve everything the world has to offer."
He stretched his arms behind his back.
"Or maybe I'm just an optimistic idiot."
A soft breeze passed between them.
"All this heavy talk's making me hungry. Let's go eat."
Yosul turned and headed back toward the cave.
Erik remained for a few seconds longer, his eyes locked on the horizon.
It was empty. His mind knew it was. But his heart…
His heart told him otherwise.
"Erik!" Yosul called again.
"I'm coming!" Erik shouted back and jogged toward the fire.
---
Erik returned to the cave and joined the rest of the team around the fire. The stew had been served, and the air was filled with the smell of warm herbs and roasted meat.
"Oh, you're back," the mage said, glancing over his shoulder. "Didn't know feeding horses took that long."
"He was admiring the scenery," Yosul added with a smile.
"Ah, I see," the mage chuckled. "Quite the sight, isn't it? I was speechless the first time I saw it too."
"You've been here before?" Erik asked, settling down beside the fire with his bowl.
"Yeah, I have," the mage replied. "That's why I'm part of this squad. I've travelled through the Black Shore once."
"Really? Evalyn never mentioned that," Yosul said, raising an eyebrow.
"Must've slipped her mind," the mage said casually, then looked at Erik. "Anyway, eat before it gets cold."
Erik nodded and began eating. The stew was simple but comforting, with just enough spice to warm his chest.
As the quiet hum of dinner settled over the camp, Yosul addressed the team.
"Alright, everyone. We'll move again as soon as the sun rises," he said. "According to the map, it'll take six to seven hours to reach the temple, most of it through the Black Shore. Since we've already covered about an hour, the remaining trek shouldn't be too long. So rest well— I have a feeling we might have a long day ahead."
Everyone nodded and continued eating, their conversations fading into tired murmurs.
When the bowls were empty and the fire began to dim, one by one the team members spread out their cloaks and sheets. The quiet of the cave was broken only by the occasional pop of an ember or the distant crash of waves outside.
Erik lay down beside the old man with the axe, pulling the black cloak over his shoulders. The ground was cool, but the warmth of the fire lingered. His thoughts drifted back to the stars, the sea, and Yosul's words.
Then sleep took him—silent and deep.