The Price of Pride

7: Beyond the Sand

Prologue

Xena

Chapter 7: Beyond the Sand

Azrath - Far Harad, 2800 T.A.

The landscape around her was eerily similar to the one she had just left. Sand stretched out in every direction, the horizon a shimmering mirage. Yet, something was different. She felt a sense of purpose, a connection to this place that she couldn't quite explain. The sun was just as relentless, but it no longer felt like a punishment. It felt like a challenge.

Xena took a deep breath and began to walk. The weight of the chakram was comforting in her hands, a reminder of her strength and skill. Each step she took was firm and resolute, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of life or civilization.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the dunes, Xena spotted a distant figure. She quickened her pace, her instincts on high alert. The figure grew clearer as she approached, resolving into a tall man clad in dark, flowing robes. His face was stern but not unkind, with eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of ages. Behind him, the desert gave way to a small village nestled in an oasis.

"Where am I?" Xena asked, her voice steady as she tried to see if they could communicate in the same language and, of course, to find out where she was.

The man gazed at her in shock and disbelief. "You are in Azrath, in Far Harad," he answered. "How did you end up in such a state? What happened to you?"

Xena, still walking towards the village, was thankful that the man spoke a language she could understand. However, the village's name and the region meant nothing to her. She knew she was in another world—that much was clear. As strange as it sounded, Gabrielle had told her she was immortal. So, for the time being, she would believe her—strange world, new beginning as an immortal, fair enough.

"I woke up in that state," Xena answered. "How and why? I don't know!"

"Come, you need to dress, rest, and then you can tell me more," the man said, guiding her to his small cottage at the edge of the village.

The cottage was modest but well-kept, a sanctuary in the midst of the harsh desert. The man led Xena inside, where the cool air provided a welcome respite from the day's heat. He handed her a set of clothes—simple yet finely made, suitable for the climate. The garments consisted of a long tunic of deep blue, cinched at the waist with a leather belt, and loose-fitting trousers that allowed for easy movement.

Xena changed quickly, feeling a sense of relief as she shed her tattered clothes. The new garments fit her well, giving her a renewed sense of strength and purpose. She looked at herself in a small mirror, noting how the deep blue of the tunic complemented her eyes, making them appear even more piercing and determined.

Once dressed, Xena joined the man at a small wooden table where a simple meal had been laid out: bread, cheese, and a bowl of hearty stew. The aroma was inviting, and Xena realized just how hungry she was. She sat down and began to eat, savoring each bite.

"Thank you," she said between mouthfuls. "I needed this."

The man nodded, his eyes studying her intently. "My name is Harith," he said. "I am the elder of this village. You said you woke up in that state. What do you remember before that?"

Xena paused, gathering her thoughts. "I remember dying. I sacrificed myself for the greater good, and I expected to find peace in the afterlife. Instead, I found myself here, in this desert, with no memory of how I got here."