Shadow Slave

…Somewhere far away, in the depths of an endless and inescapable nightmare, a blinding disc of an incandescent sun was bathing the dunes of a vast desert in a flood of immolating heat. The sands of the desert were flawlessly white, and the azure sky above them was deep and boundless like an ancient ocean, with not a single cloud blemishing its silken expanse.

Being battered by the heat, a lone figure moved across the sand.

It was a young woman with striking grey eyes, her skin covered in terrible burns, her silver hair dirty with blood and surrounded by a radiant halo of reflected light. She wore charred remains of a shattered armor, and wielded a broken sword, its silver blade fractured and ending in a jagged edge close to the hilt.

The young woman walked forward, the trail of her footprints stretching far into the distance and disappearing over the horizon. To her left, there was nothing but an endless sea of white dunes; to her right, a line of black mountains eventually created a boundary for the scorching desert.

Far ahead, there was a tree with scarlet leaves and a scattering of something that looked like pale fruit hanging from its wide branches.

...This was where Nephis was headed.

She had to reach the tree before the night came, or… no, it was better not to think of it.

Her water had long run out, and the thirst was slowly taking hold of her mind. Her tortured body was a sea of pain, but she could still walk. She could still fight.

She was still not willing to give up.

…After a while, the tree grew closer.

Nephis stopped and stared at its white bark, its scarlet leaves, and the shapes she had thought were fruit. But they weren't. Instead, tens of thousands of skulls hung from the beautiful branches, fastened to them with glistening threads of black silk.

on its bank, with his back to her, stood a figure clad in a strange,

'A… human?'

tall to

hilt of a weapon. Two hands

rusted armor was shattered, revealing a

consumed by thirst and exhaustion, Nephis raised a hand,

of cause, it

of the sickles. It moved faster than lightning, sending a

back, Nephis raised her broken sword to deflect the

the blade should have been and

but remained standing. Her cracked lips opened, and a hoarse whisper

then… let

the next moment, white

skin suddenly shone with pure radiance, which then became

swords and danced around the armored giant, her

of the ancient tree, thousands of skulls staring at their

weaker than the six-armed demon, but her skill was flawless, inexplicable, and deadly. She moved with the flow of the battle as if it was her natural element, controlling its cadence with indifferent ease. Her flesh mended itself seconds after being torn, and the flames burning

her beautiful face grew colder

the ancient demon. And even