I wish... for death. I wish for release. I wish for the end.

You're sitting, sprawled out, leaning on the gentle slope of the sand dune frying your back with burning sand. When you walk--when you so much as move a foot--it shifts, seeming to swallow you up more. The sun... the sun beats down, seeming to boil the sweat on your brow. You have no water. You have no food. And now, you just want it to be over...

Oh, come now, you can't give up that easily, a voice calls, can you? You raise your head, to be met with the face of a Draik, a very accusing one indeed. You're not that easily phased, are you? Dearie me, I don't like granting death wishes.

You blink. You're finally looking past his facial -disallowed_word- color=pink);">Make a wish...

Take me to the beginning.
Could you tell me more?
How 'bout some basics?
Loves & Loathes.
What is past.
My friend.
Farewell!
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