Moon Chasers: Into the storm [Finished]

Chapter Twenty-three: The land of dust

Despite such an emphasize on the silence of the dusty desert the realm was not made entirely of stillness and absence of sound. Many different landscape adorned this dying world. It was crowned with spectacular glaciers in the north, culminating so high few were the people who ever climbed to their top. These blinding summit also offered breathtaking sight such as frozen lakes and waterfall or alien shaped snowdrift. Treacherous pit hidden under a pristine blanket of snow were sure to get you if you where not careful and it was one of the few places in this world where the sun was bright and not chocked by an heavy curtain of dust and ash.

It's a vast land of diverse biomes such as desert or mountains, there is even an ocean, yet, they never really feel like the real thing. Like old photographs that have become yellow or sepia as the weight of the years has gotten to them. Ruins of cities and isolated constructions litter these old grounds but not a living soul will be seen exploring them, those ruins are avoided by all like the plague itself, even the inhabitant of this world dare not enter, as if they fear they could awaken something. These old stone are left to the wind only to explore and erodes them as it takes bits of them in it's roving gales.

Everywhere else is covered in this dirt coloured ash making it a nightmare to grow anything. Even if there is plants and rain, everything feel off, the grounds are unhealthy and the water is a bit sickish, the plants seem to decay before they even get the chance to fully develop and no animals seem completely alright or healthy. As if all life here is inherently corrupted by decay before it even get to bloom.

But this land of dust is not barren of life altogether,  some twisted forms of life thrive in this apocalyptique environment. The inhabitant of this realm, even if their current form differ vastly from what they used to be, still live long and fulfilling lives. But they live cramped in small town and cities for the wilderness hides terrible dangers.

Those forsaken wilds where nothing stay really dead, or even for very long, are the home of abominations and horrors beyond what even the advert eye is used to. Twisted ghost and empty broken shell of what they used to be these creatures roam this realm that the gods seem to have abandoned.

Giant forests bring cover to the east coast of this forgotten continent. These also bring an artificial and unending night where the worst creatures of the surface dwell, making these forests the most dangerous place to cross in the entirety of the realm. 

Or perhaps the most dangerous place was the west coast, a barren land where nothing can ever grow, the Earth shattered by the force of the impact of lightnings. Because such is the fate of the west coast, to waste away in cacophonous and deafening thunder. Engulfed in an everlasting storm of titanic magnitude. The rolling thunder can be heard from miles away and in the most silent of days or night some even say that it's rumbling can be heard from the center of the continent something like a week away from the first signs of the storm, haunting those who have seen it even in the depth of their sleep.

This purple hellscape would seem like the last place anyone would want to be yet an undefined figure walks amidst the lightning. Unbothered by their destructive power or even by their mere presence. They walk calmly through the storm and out of it.