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.

pool in the shadow of the great tree, and on its

'A… human?'

too tall to be one of

of a corpse, hollow eyes emanating ominous blue radiance, and six hands, each grasping the hilt of a weapon. Two hands held long swords, their blades sharper than a razor and curved slightly, two

the creature's rusted armor

and exhaustion, Nephis raised a hand, as if begging the

cause,

one of the sickles. It moved faster than lightning, sending a scarlet cloud of fallen leaves swirling into the air with a strong gust

broken sword to deflect

appeared where the blade should have been

from the force of the impact, but remained standing. Her cracked

then… let us

white flames ignited in her

then became brighter, and brighter… and then,

danced around the armored giant,

in the shade of the ancient tree, thousands of skulls staring at their battle with

of the battle as if it was her natural element, controlling its cadence with indifferent ease. Her flesh mended itself seconds

from the harrowing pain, her beautiful face grew colder and colder, becoming

And even though such wounds could never harm it, after a while, the