Across an endless black sea trudged a party of adventurers, their bodies clad in tattered black robes as a ward against the winds that harried them. Howling winds tore at them, whipping sand to abrade any exposed skin. It snatched at their loose cloth and shouted words to cast them far away into the darkness. Leather boots slipped again and again against the shifting dunes.

  For hours, they marched through the sandy wastes.

  Yet the castles they strove towards always seemed just out of reach.

  A figure dark-clad clambered up a mighty dune. The sand tumbled down behind her as she rose onto the peak. Eyes hidden beneath a pointed hat, face clad in a tightly tied scarf, she squinted out over the rolling sea of darkness and wind. She raised her hand, fingers splayed as if to capture the ruins before her in a grasp. For a second, as the wild whips whipped about her, the young girl felt as if she could do it; that she could just reach out and seize that distant castle.

  Autumn’s fingers closed around nothing.

  With a sigh that the wind stole away, Autumn let her hand drop as she pulled her dark robe tighter around herself to fend off the gale. Sand stung at the corners of her eyes, etching painful grooves into her pale skin. Her black hair felt twice as heavy filled as it was with the black grains.

  Autumn’s eyes flickered down into the valley before her. It was not as barren as the last. Banners of faded and unknown heraldry snapped violently in the wind atop long poles driven into the sand like grave markers. This wasn’t the first time they’d come across remnants of past expeditions in this colorless realm. Already they’d stumbled upon rusted arms and armor, torn tents, and burnt-out campfires. Not to mention the many, many bones of those who’d formed said camps.

  Just where had they ended up, Autumn asked herself. What was this place? How had so many people died here that their bones could carpet the camps?

  Did a god make this place simply for the trials of the tomb or had they been sent to some far realm?

  And where was the monster it promised to hold?

  Answers to these questions eluded Autumn. Neither could her friends shed any light upon their circumstances, as this place was as alien to them as it was to her.

  As she stood atop the rise, staring out over the long horizon, Autumn was soon joined by the others. Nethlia came to a stop beside Autumn, hand raised to shield her cloth covered face from the gale. She flicked her eyes to Autumn as the sand shifted beneath their feet.

  “See anything yet?!” she yelled to be heard above the wind.

  Yet Autumn heard little of it. “What?!” she yelled back.

  “I asked if you saw anything out there?!”

  Autumn shook her head. “No! Not really! Just a few more banners!”

  “I wonder who they belonged to?” Nethlia mused. “No matter. Let’s just keep moving. We’d best pick up the pace if we want to get to the castle before nightfall- well, not nightfall, but before we need to bed down. I don’t want to camp out here considering the state the other camps we’ve seen were in.”

  “What was that?!”

  Nethlia let out a huff. “Just keep moving! We can talk once we don’t need to shout!”

  “I just ate, thanks!” Liddie chimed in from the side.

  “That’s not what I- Nevermind!” Nethlia said. Throwing up her hands, she stormed her way down the dune, half-sliding as she went.

  Autumn pursued her with a similar lack of grace.

  When they finally reached the bottom and were out of the worst of the winds, Liddie made her way over to Autumn’s side as the group marched towards the fluttering banners. Looking over, Autumn saw that the pirate’s crimson hair had nearly turned black with all the sand filling it. It took a fair amount of effort for the demoness to shake the majority of it loose.

  Grimacing, Liddie pulled the cloth over her mouth away for a moment so that she could spit a glob of sandy spit off to the side.

  “Pah! I forgot how much I hated the desert! I’ve got sand places I’d rather it not be! Let me tell you, it’s not any more pleasant the second time around. Did I tell you about the time I got shipwrecked on a desert coast? A disaster it was. A massive pain in my ass!”

  “No, I don’t think you did.”

  “It was a long time ago. Maybe ten or twelve years back. After the war, I think. Or was it during it? Doesn’t matter. There I was, minding my own business, when Bam! a continent appears right out of nowhere and wrecks my ship! Just snuck right up on me, honest!”

  Autumn gave Liddie a deadpan look. “An entire continent appeared out of nowhere?”

  “Well~,” Liddie scratched her cheek in embarrassment, not looking Autumn in the eye. “It’s possible that I might’ve had a drink or two, or a dozen. And it’s also possible that I might’ve forgotten which way I was heading, as there was no moonlight that night. Nevertheless, that shoreline just appeared out of nowhere! That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!”

  “Uh-huh,” Autumn said, eying the chuckling pirate. “And which shoreline was this? So that we can avoid whomever you pissed off if we’re ever in that area.”

  Liddie pouted. “Eh, I don’t recall what the coast was called, nor the continent, but it was to the south, somewhere.”

  “Wait, I thought there were only two? Strika-something and Privonua?”

  “Striukia and Privanoya,” Nelva gently corrected Autumn. “The Heartlands and the Demonlands. At least, that’s what most call them. Most races have their own names for the continents, but those are the most commonly used. And no, they aren’t the only ones, just the most populous and widely traveled. There are two others we know about, though there are rumors about lands to the far east that no one has explored yet, but those are only rumors. I believe someone has mentioned the Frozenlands to you before?” She asked. At Autumn’s nod, she continued as they walked. “They lie to the far north, at the edge of the world.”

  Autumn blinked. “The edge of the world?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Nelva nodded. “The Frozenlands border the edge of the world; a massive mountain range made of pure ice. It is said that beyond it lies the elemental plane of ice.”

  “Uh, just checking, but this world — well, not this one,” Autumn said, gesturing to the realm of black skies and black sand around them, “— but the one you’re from, that we were in before all this mess, is round, right?”

  It was Nelva’s turn to blink in confusion. “Yes? Is your world not?”

  “It is. Mostly,” Autumn clarified. “But I thought I’d check; you never know with gods and magic and stuff. But, um, how does this world have an edge if it’s round? Is it a metaphor or something?”

  Nelva shrugged. “Maybe? I’ve never been, but scholars swear the top of the world ends there.”

  “Of course they do,” Autumn muttered. “You said there was another continent? I assume this is the one Liddie crashed into drunkenly?”

  “Hey!”

  Nelva ignored Liddie’s outburst. “Yes, I believe it’s called Umica. It’s a vast hot desert continent located to the south of Privanoya with very few inhabitants. I’m surprised Liddie managed to survive there at all, given the lack of civilization and the unbearable temperatures it's purported to have.”

  “I’m just amazing like that!” Liddie grinned.

  Nelva quirked an eyebrow at her. “Quite.”

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  “Hold up,” Nethlia called out suddenly, halting them in place. “I thought I saw something. There was movement over by the banners.”

  The party tensed at their captain’s words. Drawing their blades and wands with quiet rasps, they backed up into a defensive formation, boots sliding through the black sand at their feet. Wordlessly, they strained to hear or spot anything besides themselves moving in the valley they found themselves. Only the howling winds spoke across the dunes.

  Autumn’s eyes calmly flickered across the rows of fluttering banners as her heart beat loudly in her chest. Looking beyond the tombstone-like markers, she spied a ruined encampment of tattered tents and fallen barricades resting in the shelter of the dunes half-covered by sand. In the center lay a burnt-out campfire.

  As she was gazing at the ruined mess, Pyre spoke up.

  “There!” she yelled, pointing towards one of the broken pillars.

  With a start, Autumn realized that it wasn’t a pillar that she was looking at but a person standing startlingly still. To her credit, their build was rather tall and thin like that of a beanpole. A worn metal breastplate clad their skinny frame atop a set of loose beige robes while a dented skullcap sat upon their brow. In one hand they held a tall spear, in the other they bore a large round shield, its coat of arms obscured from view.

  Curiously, the armored figure’s garb lay unnaturally still, undisturbed despite the heavy winds.

  Not once did the figure move since they’d spotted them; they stood still like a memory.

  Neither did they. No one dared breathe for a moment or two.

  “What’s the call, captain?” Liddie asked quietly. “Want me to scout it out?”

  Nethlia shook her head, never once taking her eyes off the still figure in the distance. “No, we’ll go together. Keep your eyes out for others; this could be an ambush. If we’re lucky, this is just our missing murderous robber.”

  Slowly, cautiously, the party followed behind Nethlia as they made their way through the graveyard of banners towards the broken campsite with its lone sentry. As they drew near, more details of the figure revealed themselves. A bored look lay perpetually plastered across the sentry’s face as they stared out over the black sands of the valley. Not once did their eyes shift towards the approaching adventurers, instead staying fixed into the middle distance.

  Oh, and more pertinently, they could see right through the lonesome guard.

  They were clearly a ghost of some kind.

  “Uh,” Autumn started, halting in place. “Is anybody else seeing this?”

  The others stopped with her and stared at the ghost.

  “If you’re asking if we see a ghost just standing in front of us, not trying to kill us in a rabid, hateful manner, then yes, we see it too,” Liddie said. “My question is why isn’t it? I thought they all had an innate hatred for the living.”

  “Maybe it hasn’t seen us yet?” Eme offered.

  Autumn looked about herself uncertainly as she and the group stood out in the open. She shrugged. “It might be blind.”

  “And hopefully deaf,” Edwyn grunted.

  As the group continued their cautious approach towards the lonesome ghost, Autumn focused a trickle of magic into her eyes, bleeding them dark as she sought to use her Witch Sight to reveal anything new about it. To her surprise, she saw — or more accurately — felt the faint stirrings of something emanating from the ghost.

  Her surprise came from the fact that ever since she’d acquired her magic, she’d had troubles even detecting undead, let alone any underpinnings of emotions from them. If they possessed any. And it was only recently that she’d developed the means to detect the necromantic energies they radiate.

  This was not that.

  What Autumn felt from the ghost was something else. Something strange and new, yet at the same time old. Magic had seeped into the black sands and frayed cloth of the tents and banners, producing this... shade.

  Not once did the lonesome sentry glance their way as they were examining it. Its dull eyes remained fixed on a point beyond them, staring at something only it could see. If it saw at all. Not even when Nethlia passed her hand curiously through its ethereal form did it stir.

  “Huh,” Nethlia said as she touched her fingers together curiously.

  Autumn approached her anxiously. “What is it?” she asked.

  Nethlia looked up at her, blinking slightly as she wiped her hand on her hides. “What? Oh that? It was nothing. I just didn’t feel anything was all. I half expected it to feel slimy or cold. Ghosts are supposed to emanate an aura of icy frost, or something like that. Frigid air that can freeze water. Or so I’ve been told. This one doesn’t seem to be doing that. Here, feel it.”

  A coldness lingered against Autumn’s breast in memory. The banshee had frozen the waters of the swamp at their first meeting. Her breath had fogged before her as she gazed upon the white-clad ghost. And while this sunless realm was indeed cold, it lacked the same icy bite, the bitter chill that robbed her warmth.

  Curious, Autumn passed her fingers through the ghost, and, like Nethlia before her, felt nothing as her hand slid through the unreactive sentry. No icy feeling, no sapping cold, not even a shuddering dread.

  Autumn pressed her fingers together as she thought. “I don’t think this is an undead.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I think,” Autumn paused, her eyes flickering across the ghost before her. Sheer boredom marked its features. Unshiftingly, it continued its vigil. Despite the locale, it looked at ease, no more aggrieved by its posting than if it was atop a city wall or outside a guardhouse or tavern. To all Autumn’s senses, there was nothing undeathly about it. “I think it might just be a memory, an echo.”

  Autumn’s words rang out across the silent sands as the unrelenting winds howled above the dunes. Looking about the camp, she felt faint echoes of the past lingering here and there, like raindrops after a forgotten storm.

  How much death had this realm seen that memories of those who’d passed through it clung on?

  “A memory?” Nethlia asked.

  “Yeah,” Autumn nodded. “That’s what it feels like to me, at least. Maybe-“

  Eme interrupted Autumn’s words with a yell, pointing towards the tents. “Hey guys! There’s more of them over there!”

  Looking over, Autumn saw more of the ‘ghosts’ like the sentry lounging inside of the frayed tents. Some were sleeping, others maintaining their gear or relaxing in various ways. One was even drinking beer from a heavy mug as they sat at a table that was more kindling than furniture without a care in the world.

  More memories left behind.

  They found no bodies amongst the corpse of a camp.

  “Let’s go,” Nethlia said as they gathered on the far side. “There’s nothing more for us to see here.”

  The party set off at her words, trailing in her footsteps as they marched up and over the rising dunes towards the towering castle in the distance. As they traveled yonder, more and more of such camps did they come across. And within them, they found more memories lost. Memories of Dwarves, Elves, and Men. Of Demons and Angels. Memories of peace and war, wealth and poverty, adventure and home.

  They passed by great armies encamped or embattled. Warriors and soldiers clashed amongst the black sea. Carrion fields littered with the dead and crows of memory sprawled out to the horizon of dunes. Bannered flags waved them ever-onwards. Cities and towns of incorporeal stone peaked through the sand where crowds of civilians tread a path forgotten. Merchants silently bartered their wares. Pickpockets wound and weaved through the hollow bustle, endlessly filching what they ought not to have. Whores plied their back-alley trades to no one.

  On and on this went.

  By the time the party reached the last dune before the castle, the memories around them had grown so dense that it was hard for them to even see the black sand anymore amongst the milling crowds and half-remembered streets. Furthermore, the closer they got to their destination, the more corporeal the ghosts seemed to become. Their denser forms made it that much harder to move forward.

  When Autumn’s climb ended, she tiredly cast her gaze towards the castle as it loomed before them, marveling at what she saw.

  From black sands, the castle rose, tall and imposing; an oppressive edifice of man drowning in a forgotten wasteland. Its stones looked pale under the gray light like bones cast aside. Towers blackened by fire and war stretched tall into the starless black sky. Windows shattered by violence stared out hollowly like tortured eyes. So much sand had piled up against the castle’s sides that it was hard to tell just how tall it actually was, but even so, it still eclipsed anything around it.

  Autumn looked unsuccessfully for the door or gatehouse to the castle. She suspected, rightfully so, that the intended entrance lay buried deep under the black waves.

  “It looks like shit!” Liddie shouted to be heard over the wind as she stood beside Autumn. “Although I wasn’t expecting much else! Do you really think the third key is actually in there?!”

  Autumn glanced sideways at the pirate. “I hope so! Where else could it be?! Where else would they’ve gone?!” she asked, gesturing out to the bleak landscape beyond the castle. Nothing resided there besides the black waves.

  “Don’t know!” Liddie shrugged. “They might’ve died out in those dunes! I’m not looking forward to combing through all this sand if it’s not there!”

  “I’m just hopin’ that ‘ere castle has a blastit exit in it!” Edwyn grunted loudly as they made their way across the sand towards. With their shorter stature, the Manus Runelord had found the trek up and down the dunes much harder than the others. Only their magical boots and hardy dwarven physique had lent them the fortitude to persevere through it all. “I ain’t built for all this marchin’!”

  “Ditto,” Pyre mumbled as she shook glass out of her fiery hair.

  Taking a step forward, Nethlia gestured for the others to make their way toward the castle. “Come on, enough talk! The sooner we get a move on, the sooner- “

  Autumn didn’t know what possessed her to look up at that moment. Was it instinct? Curiosity? A shifting of the shadows that drew her gaze up high? Later she’d not recall what it’d been that clued her in that something was wrong, but for some reason, some ineffable desire, she looked up.

  And saw it.

  Down from the dark came the monster, faceless and horrid; a shade giant clad in billowing cloth. Its body was nightmarish. Many clawed limbs spawned and spread across its body of ash and sin, merging and combining seemingly at random. Of legs, it possessed none, only a twisted tail of a dark python emerged from its equally twisted spine to power it through the lightlessness above. Hate and hunger followed it like a cloud as it hurtled down at the adventurers below.

  “Run!” Autumn screamed in warning.

  It was the only word she could speak before the Stealer of Memories was amongst them.