The coarse, ash-like taste of the black sands was the first thing in Syx's mind as he laid face first in the side of a dune. The second thing was the same gravelly feeling deep in places it shouldn't be. However, the third thing, the most important thing, was the hurried voice of an old man who'd been shouting something or another at him for the last fifteen seconds.
"Look 'ere, brother, you cain't be nappin' out 'ere, you gotta run!", screamed the frantic, frankly dirty, old man.
"I'm sorry?"
Syx groaned, as he lazily rolled onto his back. Sand clung to the right side of his face and his corporate, cookie cutter, white button up and slacks.
"You gotta run, boy!"
The old man hobbled off faster than most men run. Something about this absurdity, the black sand, the purple skies that held clouds that moved like waves, the bafflingly quick old man. It all came together to promptly snap Syx out of his daze induced calm.
"Hey! Run from what?! Are you the son of a bitch that threw that dust at me!?"
*Lords, that's a fast old man.*[1]
Syx stumbled to his feet like a newborn fawn. His legs wobbled like they were made of gelatin, but he planted his hands on his knees and stabilized himself. He screamed to the old man once more.
"Run from what?!"
The old man had hobbled himself almost out of earshot. So far away that his voice sounded like a whisper. Despite that, the old man screamed as loud as his vocal cords would allow, answering without missing a beat.
"Fr'm the herd, boy! Fr'm the herd!"
"The sky's purple, boy! The herd runs! Get tuh hustlin'!"
There was a rumbling.
Something akin to a natural disaster of historical proportions. Something that should have been louder than a choir of volcanoes, but it could only be felt. And Syx did feel it. He felt it in his stomach and intestines. His veins moved grotesquely to the rhythm. His cold, tired, white collar heart pulsed with the booming coming from the earth. It felt like it was being pulled out of his chest.
Syx swung his head to the side. He was met with the sight of what looked like a tsunami. Miles and miles tall, blotting out the blue three-pointed moon to the south. At the sight that would make any unaccustomed person shit the bed, Syx could only think one thing, one phrase, one truth.
*I HAVE to get hustlin'*
Syx ran faster than any athlete, he didn't know his body could move this fast. His strides were more like the leaps of a trained dancer as he thoughtlessly bounded down the slopes.
*Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit*
Something gnawed at his mind, telling him that whatever was behind him was getting closer. He didn't know how true that was, but he picked up the pace. He may as well have been leaping through the sands at world record speeds. At this moment, Syx was, the fastest, the most afraid, and, inexplicably, the most graceful he had ever been in his life. He was moving as smoothly as a Condor flies, and was as sweaty as a horse running laps on the summer solstice. However, what was vastly stranger than this display from Syx that could have, and possibly should have, been recreated as an interpretive dance, was the limping geriatric in front of him.
*What the hell?*
The old man hadn't slowed since he hobbled off in the first place. He didn't even look sweaty. Syx barely caught up to the heels of this elderly, nearing ancient man. The old man seemed like a mirage, forever in the distance, despite Syx giving it everything he had and vastly more.
"Is this-"
He heaved.
*Lords, I'm going to vomit, holy shit. *
Syx, by the will of the Nine Lords, managed to force out some words through slobber and spit.
"- A regular...occurrence?"
The old man snickered, then spoke back in a voice that wouldn't indicate he had engaged in any physical activity for the past fifteen minutes.
"Occurrence? Whatchu, talkin' 'bout 'occurrence' for?"
The old man turned back to face Syx just to look at him like he was stupid.
"Naw this is a regular happenin', son!... 'Occurrence'..."
Syx kept running, trying to keep pace with the man. He had bottomed out his energy a few miles back, and was running on fumes. After five minutes more of sprinting like a gazelle, he belted out.
"Why?!"
"Boy, what kinda question!...Ohh, I see, y'ure one of them Olera folk. Shockin' ya got a tan about ya, thought y'were one of us. Clothes shoulda been a giveaway...Ain't I old"
"You're-"
*Lords I have to stop*
"- you're not?"
The old man let out what would be a hardy laugh if it weren't so dry and wheezy like an old rubber duck.
"Aw nah, son. This 'ere is The Pit."
The old man looked Syx up and down, then made a face like he smelled something rotten or dead.
" 'Ey, kid, ya ain't lookin' so hot. 'Ere, just a lil' further, there's a big ol' hole we gotta jump in."
As they ran the skies shifted into a deeper violet, The moon rose higher overhead. The sands shifted and settled beneath them as the rumbling of the herd seemed to subside. The old man slowed himself as his urgency faded, Syx followed in suit. Dozens of miles out from where Syx found himself with a mouth full of sand, dozens of miles out from being buried in the wave of "The Herd", he found himself in stark amazement as he looked around.
*It is...it's beautiful. *
The flora was simply astonishing to Syx. The shrubs, that should barely peak past one's calf, sprouted to the height of a grown man and to the width of two. Dancing purple and blue flowers sprouted in patches of red sand that glowed in contrast to the black. He was as wide-eyed as a baby seeing a rainbow for the first time. However, the botanist in him didn't have the time to take over. No time to inspect the flowers, and feel the shrubs.
As they walked forward, Syx noticed as the view of the midnight sands became more and more sparse. And as they walked further, green grasses took its place. Lusher, more vibrant, as they continued, the desert was more like a field. Then they reached the mouth. A truly gaping hole. Miles in diameter, so deep, it looked as if there was no bottom.
"Wel'um, tuh The Well, kid!"
Syx looked at the man in confusion that bordered on disgust.
"You want us to jump down there?
The old man wheezed.
"I'mma jump down there, kid. Ya scurd?"
"I'm not scared...that is just death down there. You expect me to, what, pop back up after we hit the bottom?"
Syx shook his head.
"Actually, what are we even doing here? I do not even know your name. This is a hole, and-"
The old man waved his hands.
"Gah, Kid. I said, there's a big ol' hole we had to jump in. There's the big ol' hole. Muh name's Jericho. Ya ain't gonna die. The hole'll flip ya."
"Okay, Jericho. It will flip me?"
"Flip ya. Yeah."
"How?"
"Like, flip ya, Kid. I cain't explain it. Like, it tilts ya into the entrance, I dunno. 'Ere, just-"
The old man grabbed Syx by his shoulders. Syx squirmed as much as he could, trying to shake off the old man. Unfortunately, as proficient as Syx was at squirming, the old man was simply too strong. The display amounted to a lot of pathetic leg kicking and swearing. A display that Jericho soundly ignored as he stood at the edge of the mouth.
"'Ey, kid, before ya go, when ya get down there, don't stumble too far back or nothin'. You'll shoot yerself right back up 'ere, and we'll have to do this again."
Then as quickly and easily as Syx was grabbed, he was thrown into the hole.
As Syx begun falling, he felt a little annoyed.
"You old shit! When I get my hands on your rickety ass, I swear to the Nine Lords I'll shove my ballpoint pen all the way..."
As Syx faded from view, so did his voice.
Syx fell into the darkness at meteoric speeds. He felt like all his organs rose up to his chest.
Did that old man just fucking kill me? If I splatter at the bottom of this hole, I will haunt the shit outta-
Not a moment later, Syx found himself on his feet, standing in pale green grass sprouting out from a deep purple clay. It smelled like it had just rained. Syx laughed to himself.
"Petrichor, in a desert..."
He stood underneath a massive stone archway embedded in a wall. He took a few steps forward. Syx was on the floor of a winding valley. The tall purple and black valley walls seemed to reach to the skies. Blue, red, and purple flowers sparingly adorned the cracks in the walls. Above, It almost looked like a naturally occurring, but distinctly artificial sky with artificial sunlight, all made from rocks. The ceiling looked like an oil painting. It was nature's art project. As the rocks shimmered, Syx took in the colors.
*It's like a sunset back home.*
He took a moment to wipe the sand that clung to him for miles out of his salt and pepper hair, and off his face, and clothes.
*I'll almost miss you, sand.*
Syx, looked back to the archway, and into the abyss that it led into.
"Flip you around...huh."
Syx sat down in the grass, closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the breeze of the valley. He was expecting Jericho to pop up any moment now.
✦✦✦[2]
*Where is that old man?*
As if he'd been waiting for a cue, Jericho popped out of the darkness, and walked through the archway.
"'Ey there, kid. Sorry 'bout that. Took a good nap."
"Jericho. You took a nap?"
"Sure did, kid. Ya got 'ere okay? Ya look like it."
Syx blankly stared at Jericho for a moment.
"Yes. Yes I got here alright."
"That there is wonderful. Alright, kid, let's get tuh walkin'. Keep up a lil' better this time."
"We're walking where?"
"Back to the tribe, of course."
"There's a tribe down here?"
"Well, yeah, kid, that's what I just said. Ya think I just brought ya down here for nothin'? Y'ure in for a treat Oleran, y'ure 'bout to see the beaut that is The R'ulshari!"
[1] Syx's thoughts will be inside two Asterisks. This is cause Italics don't show up in the preview. If they appear in the published version, then they'll stop and just be italicized words
[2] Passage of time, btw. Will be indistinct unless I then write "It had been hours..." or something to that affect. Y'all get it.