The caravan stopped in a rock-strewn field, and preparations were made to camp for the night. Endril arrived with details of who would stand watch and who would sleep. To add insult to injury, he insisted Frank be near the front to protect him personally. He informed Heather that dinner would be ready in an hour and she should wear something nice. With that, he left them in peace, whistling a little tune as he walked away.

“What are you so mad about?” Quinny asked as Heather paced back and forth. “You get to have a nice meal.”

“With a man, I have no desire to speak to,” Heather replied. “He demanded my presence for his amusement and is using my friends as leverage.”

“You wanted to spy on him anyway,” Quinny reminded. “Now you have a front-row seat.”

“This isn’t how I planned to spy on him,” Heather replied. “I wanted to watch him from the air, not sit down to dinner with him. Now I am afraid if I refuse, he will make things harder on us. Argh, why do I feel like I am forced into everything in this world? I wish for once I could put my foot down and say no without there being repercussions.”

Quinny took off her mask and looked up with those jet-black eyes. “I could go in your place.”

“He told me to come,” Heather reminded.

“I know, but I could go as you,” she replied and pointed to the pouch at her waist. “We could use the statue.”

Heather paused to consider what Quinny had just said. With the figurine's power, they could change places, and Quinny could entertain that arrogant fool. Still, the thought of not being able to take her body back until Quinny relinquished it made her cringe. Panic began to rise as she wondered if the figurine gave Quinny an image of her form or her actual body?

“I will go myself,” Heather said as the panic began to overwhelm her desire to avoid Endril.

“I don't mind you pretending to be me for a little bit,” Quinny said, but Heather continued to shake her head, unable to accept the idea of losing control of her form.

“At least Frank will be nearby,” Breanne added as she looked out into the darkening sands. “I will go invisible and be on hand as well if anything goes wrong.”

“No, his people might be watching, and your sudden disappearance could be noticed,” Heather replied. “The goblins will have to be enough protection.” She went to the palanquin where Umtha stood inside near the egg listening to the conversation.

“Be careful,” Umtha said. “Him no honest.”

“We know. I am only playing along to prevent trouble. We just need to avoid drawing too much attention and get to this glass. Then we can leave him behind.”

Umtha leaned over and began to whisper as she pointed into the desert. “No take long. Desert watching. Will anger if we stay too long.”

“The desert is watching?” Heather repeated, not sure what that was supposed to mean.

“Shaman feel spirit of sands. Desert stirs and watches. Hungry for something, Umtha not know.”

“Great, one more thing to worry about,” Heather groaned. “Would you please have some of your goblins watch me just in case Endril tries to kill or imprison me?”

“Goblins watch, you and sand. Will warn of spirit approaches.”

Heather let out a sigh and made her way back, stopping to let Breanne and Quinny know that Umtha believed they were being watched by something in the desert. She straightened her yellow dress and made her way down the line to a campfire burning off the road ahead. She passed some of the people who were supposedly pilgrims, most of whom paid her no heed, but a few followed her passing with wary eyes. She wasn't sure what to make of them or if they were what Endril claimed they were. For all she knew, they were all mercenaries waiting for her and the others to go to sleep. She smiled slightly to think of how long they would be waiting since Breanne, Frank, and Quinny didn't sleep at all.

As she drew closer, she could see Endril sitting on a large red pillow before the fire, his button-down shirt opened to below his chest, and his feathered hat tipped back. He smiled to see her and motioned to a pillow right beside him with a pat. She growled to herself and made her way into the light, coming to stand right before the pillow, but refusing to sit.

“A fine night,” he said as his eyes looked her up and down. “But I recall asking you to dress nice.”

“I have only two outfits with me,” Heather replied. “And the other one was soiled in a battle I fought the other day.”

His eyes narrowed as she reached down and pulled the cushion away from him before sitting down to stare at him in contempt.

“What kind of princess travels with no guards or servants?” he asked, his voice probing.

Heather already regretted coming as it became clear he intended to question her all night. She put on a blank expression and explained that she had gained the title only recently and didn’t indulge in the benefits. She was an adventurer and wanted to see the world, not sit in court pretending she was somebody special. Still, she played it as if Gwen has insisted she at least travel with friends and provided the Palanquin that Breanne used so she could ride in it as well.

“Ahh, Gwen is the Queen to your princess,” he said with a slight smile. “So she finally married the wizard that was holding her hostage.”

“No,” Heather said with an evil smile. “I killed the wizard and returned the stone to Gwen, thus freeing her kingdom from his grasp. That's why she made me a princess in the first place.” She was rather pleased by the look of scandal on Endril's face as she folded her arms in triumph. She wanted him to see her as dangerous, and such a bold statement could work to that end.

“From what I understand, that wizard was very high level, Endril replied. “You don't look high enough to kill a butterfly, especially as a druid class,” he added as his smile became a frown. “Are you playing a game with me?”

Heather rolled her eyes and informed him she was a flower singer and that she was rather good at it. She also let him know that the people traveling with her helped defeat the wizard. She even went so far as to give vague details about traps and rooms, never letting on that they had overcome many of them because they were undead. He seemed to study every comment she made, even trying to trick her into repeating things to see if the story would change. It was becoming a battle of intrigues, as each one of them tried to answer the other with as little information as possible.

Endril seemed to grow bored of the game and called to a nearby human who brought a tray of bread, cheeses, olives, and dipping oils. Heather fought the urge to be pleased, as a spit of meat of placed over the fire. As she watched, the man basted it and began to turn it slowly, allowing it to cook evenly on all sides. In minutes she could smell the scent of something luscious cooking, and her anger began to waiver.

“Would you care for a wine?” he asked as she nibbled at a slice of cheese.

Heather nodded, and a bottle was produced, and two generous cups poured full of a dark red liquid. She tasted the bitter flavor with a tiny sip before setting it aside to continue the conversation. Now he was after why she decided to enter New Eden and, more importantly, why she picked a human.

She hadn't planned a story to cover her arrival and briefly considered borrowing Franks. That was quickly put out of mind as Endril was sure to grill her for details, and she lacked the knowledge to back the story up. She went with the most basic of reasons, pure impulse. Pressure from school, debts, job problems, and the like finally drove her to make a rash decision. She even played it off as a regret, wishing she had taken more time to think about it.

He leaned back so more of his chest would be exposed as he held a glass of wine in a curled hand. His eyes swept over her as a slight smile curled his lips.

“So you’re a girl who reacts to impulse before thinking,” he stated. “I know a few impulses I would like to see you act on.”

“Not that kind of impulse,” Heather stated clearly, fighting back the desire to call him an assortment of colorful names.

“What kind of impulse did you think I was implying?” he asked as if wounded before hiding a smile in a sip of wine.

Heather knew exactly what he meant but didn't react to his advance. She instead glanced to the right and caught sight of Frank watching from the darkness. She knew if Endril caused any kind of fuss, Frank would probably rip his arms off before he could stand. There were also goblins about, moving unseen as they watched from the shadows, ready to aid in any fight.

“So, tell me about the desert,” she said, avoiding his previous comment. “One of my friends seems to think the desert is alive, and it's watching us.”

Endril laughed and let the moment go as his smile grew even wider. She kept her eyes up and avoided his brazen efforts as he began to explain the land around them.

“Your friend is probably right,” he replied. “There are all sorts of things in the desert, from giant worms to ghostly spirits. They stalk unseen just beyond the sight, waiting for somebody to wander too far from the safety of the road.”

“But people do wander from the road,” she suggested. “There must be some motivation to go into the deep desert.”

“Indeed,” he said with an almost boyish grin. “Aside from shortening the distance across, there are great rewards hidden in the sands. Dotted all across the landscape are spires of stone that often the entrances to caves that sprawl like labyrinths. Aside from these, there are lost cities under the sands. Some were generated by the world, but many were made by reckless players, believing they could build an oasis in wastes. Rumor is you can make a fortune exploring these depths, assuming you could find them.”

“And you don’t know where some of these are?” she pressed to keep him focused on this line of conversation.

He smiled and gestured at her with his wine. “You do have an adventuring spirit, don’t you? You find the lure of great wealth hard to pass by. I might know where a few choice locations are,” he said with a widening smile. “If you're interested in knowing, I could be persuaded to share the information for the right price.”

Heather wasn't about to offer the kind of persuasion he had in mind. Instead, she engaged him in a conversation about what kind of monsters inhabited the dessert. He described all manner of horrors and beasts, from giant scorpions to twoheaded jackals and worms as large as a bus that could swim through the sand like water. There were undead as well, ghosts, mummies, and sand zombies, all of which usually walked the sands at night. He even went so far as to tell a story about a particular beast called a balbaka, a blue-skinned and red-eyed monster that resembled a giant frog with white hair on its head. It was supposed to be a variety of undead, but few people had ever seen one, and everyone who did told the tale after they respawned.

“It is immune to nonmagical attacks,” he added before offering to refill her wine.

She held the cup out as he poured her another full glass. She settled back and eyed the basted meat as the cook began to cut thin slices off and pile them on a plate. To her delight, it was set between them, and two smaller plates were provided so they could eat all they desired. As she savored the flavor, a pang of guilt ran through her system. Something about enjoying anything he offered was an offense to her senses, and it felt even worse when she looked up and saw Frank in the distance.

“Are you enjoying my hospitality, princess Hannah?” Endril said in a smooth voice.

“I am her at dinner as you demanded,” she replied, offering him no satisfaction as she set her plate aside. “Tell me, why are you running caravans in the desert? Why not be out adventuring and looking for the treasures you spoke of.”

He shook his head and took a sip of his wine, eyes watching like a predatory animal. “I have no desire to dig up half the desert looking for rumors and legend. I can make a fair bit of coin trading on the desert road, and I have no reason to stop.”

Heather wasn’t sure his answer was honest. He couldn’t be making that much just to run supplies to an outpost in the sands. He had an ulterior motive that was hidden in his act but seemed to involve her. She wondered if maybe he knew who she really was, but if he did, why go to so much trouble? She wanted to pry but didn't want her suspicion to be evident. Instead, she went back to asking about the monsters of the desert, as if interested in adventuring where he feared to tread. He answered the questions in his usual manner, giving her the barest of information until she asked about one variety in particular.

“What about the rumors of sand demons?” she asked. “Have you ever seen one of those?”

He set his cup aside and smiled broadly, his dark skin making him look at home with the night.

“Those are very real but only found in the deep desert in the west. You don't see them in the rocks in the east where we are. They are mostly encountered as a mound of shifting sand, but they have a solid form. If you do see one in its true form, you will never forget it. They stand six to seven meters tall with black to red chitinous skin. They have alligator-like heads with burning red eyes and four arms that end in powerful hands.”

“They sound horrible,” Heather said and sipped her wine. “But they don’t come this way?”

“They lurk in the deep desert where they hide lairs under the sand. Rumor is they have treasure troves to rival a dragon hoard hidden away in deep caves.”

“More treasure you don’t dare to seek?” she teased, hoping it would get under his skin.

“I have all the treasures I need here,” he said and gestured to his caravan.

“And nobody ever looks?” she asked. “Surely a rumor like that brings people running to try and claim the prize.”

He smiled wide and leaned over, pointing to her with the hand that held his glass.

“Lots of people tried and wound up respawning with nothing of their gear,” he said. “Soon, the whole region was labeled as too dangerous for anyone but large groups, or insanely powerful individuals like the wizard who blasted the glass into being.”

“We heard about him, but tell me about the groups that have gone out. Were any of them ever successful?”

He seemed to pause as if considering his reply. With a sip of his wine, he sat back and nodded. “One group was successful, but it was a long time ago. Rumor is they killed several of the demons and dug up their lairs. They are the only ones ever credited with doing it, but they broke up, and nobody knows where they are now. From what I hear, it was some kind of personal fight between the two leaders.”

“And who were they?” she asked, grateful he was so willing to talk about something else.

“Kevin and a woman named Hathlisora,” he replied. “Stories say this is where Kevin got all his wealth. He and this Hathlisora were supposedly lovers, but like all lovers, they had a spat and went their separate ways. From what I hear, they got back together, but at some point, he killed her, and she was never seen again.”

Heather was frozen in shock as he spoke about Hathlisora with careless ease. She wanted to grill him over the topic, but they were playing a careful game. If she showed too much interest in a particular topic, she risked his prying into why. She needed to keep up her ruse that she was an adventurer thinking about daring to go into the deep sands.

Unable to follow her desired course, she asked about the road ahead. He went on to explain they would reach the first water station before noon tomorrow. It was a small fort manned by four or five people who kept it safe from monsters. She inquired why anybody would guard a fort in the middle of nowhere, and he explained the toll they charged for shelter and access to water.

“Of course, it’s all about profit,” Heather moaned. “Why did I think it could be something more?”

“This is still a world where money buys you privilege,” he pointed out. “You can buy goods, points to build with, friends, and even loyalty.”

“Loyalty bought with money only lasts as long as the money does,” Heather pointed out, eager to deflate his shameless point of view.

He dismissed her with a wave and countered that the vast majority of players were below level twenty because they couldn't manage to buy security. He, however, could afford to hire men like Leet to do all his fighting for him and thus avoid any unexpected demises. He then nodded to her and asked why she would refuse the rewards of her station. A princess had to come with a great deal of power and the money to move mountains. Heather explained that it came with an honorary garden in the city and a title that was useless outside Gwen’s kingdom.

Endril laughed and asked why she had helped Gwen in the first place. Heather turned the question around, asking him why nobody else had done it. She pointed out it was silly that none of the other kingdoms came to her aid, especially Kevin.

“That's the pettiness of rulers,” Endril said. “They all want to be the wealthiest and most powerful, so when one of them stumbles, the others step on them to make sure they can’t get back up.”

“Why haven’t the visitors shut this world down?” Heather groaned as he painted a terrible picture of the players. “All it has done is bring the worst out in people.”

“It’s a land that rewards the opportunistic, not the hard-working,” Endril replied. “You can grind for days and only get half as far as one good opportunity might have brought you.”

Heather felt like she was talking to Moon, and he resembled her race in many ways. It sickened her to think so many saw this world as a competition and would resort to nearly any tactic to be the one on top. She humored his questions about Gwen, her being a princess, and a dozen more suggestive offers before graciously thanking him for the meal and storming back to the palanquin. He bid her good night and told her if she found the desert air too cold, there was always a warm bed nearby.

Legeis was out of his armor using a tool to blow sand out of the gears in the feet. Webster scurried about the rocks nearby as if stalking a bird. Breanne was talking to Umtha, and Heather could tell she was still trying to prove Umtha was a player. She interrupted the two and brought their debate to a close, throwing herself into the cushions and relaying the whole aggravating story. Breanne assured her the burden was over with, and Umtha insisted they move first thing in the morning. Once more, she said the desert was awake and hunting for something.

“All we need is Hathlisora,” Heather replied. “Apparently, she went into the deep sand and killed the demons that live there. Eldrin even told me that she and Kevin were once lovers.”

“He told you about Hathlisora?” Breanne asked as Heather rubbed at her eyes.

“Just bits and pieces. He was as careful as he could to leave out details or suggest anything he said was probably a rumor. I don't know what to believe in anything he said.” She put a hand over her mouth to hide a yawn and curled up into the cushions.

“You look exhausted,” Breanne said as she watched the display. “You should get some sleep.”

“Need watch,” Umtha insisted. “Sands moving.”

Heather felt the effect of the food and wine too strongly to care about the warning. Instead, she settled into sleep as a cool breeze blew in off the desert. Webster curled up beside her an hour later; a feather stuck to his head.

She slept more soundly than she had since arriving here, but her dreams were not at peace. She saw sands rolling for miles in every direction as she walked across their blistering surface. On her head was the crown with the green stone glowing from an inner light. Before her was a cloud of sand, shifting and blowing as if to conceal something behind it. She felt a need to see through the sand, but it rushed at her, filling her ears with the sound of a violent wind.

Heather jerked awake to look directly into Umtha’s eyes as the goblin woman sat motionless, studying her.

“Please tell me you weren’t sitting there all night watching me,” Heather groaned and carefully picked up Webster to set him aside.

“You have a dream,” Umtha said. “Sands come to life.”

“Great, now I can’t even dream in private,” Heather replied and looked to the woman. “Umtha, how did you know that?”

“Umtha have same dream. Is warning. Sand is coming.”

Heather nodded and climbed out of the palanquin to be greeted by the dawn. The sun was low in the sky, and the caravan was already making preparations to move. Breanne arrived to tell her that nothing unusual happened in the night and that all should go well for the day.

“Is watching, waiting,” Umtha insisted, but Heather like Breanne's outlook for the day better.

Just as predicted, the day passed quietly, and they arrived at the first watering hole just before noon. It was a small fort built around a single well that went deep into the rock. It was guarded by two lizard race players who charged a small toll to come inside, use them well, and the protection of the walls.

The caravan stopped for just an hour to fill water barrels before moving on and heading onward. Endril took a moment to come and invite her to another dinner. She politely accepted and inquired as to how far from the glass they were. Endril smiled and tipped his hat, informing her that they were five days of hard travel away, but assured her he had plenty for them to eat at their meals. Heather understood what he was implying and nodded as he turned away, walking with a slight hop in his step.

“He sure wants your company,” Quinny said.

“He wants my company in his tent,” Heather replied and stamped a foot. “Who does he think I am?”

Quinny lifted her mask again and looked confused a moment before responding with a, “So?”

“So?” Heather practically yelled. “He wants me to sleep with him.”

Quinny shrugged and set her mask back in place. “And that costs you what?”

“It costs me my dignity,” Heather remarked. “Honestly, can you just throw yourself at anyone?”

“Not anyone, but he isn’t half bad looking, and I like the dangerous and mischievous ones,” Quinny said. “He is very anime if you think about it.”

Heather slapped her face and walked by, heading for the magic food locker. Inside she took out a lovely white cake and cut a slice to begin feeding her frustration. They kept a few forks and wooden plates packed in the palanquin, so she sat down and started to eat in earnest until Breanne walked up.

“You don't look well,” Breanne said as Heather was about halfway through.

“I don’t feel well,” she replied and looked up to see Quinny was away, talking with Legeis. “Quinny suggested I accept Endril’s advances because to her; it's meaningless.”

Breanne rolled her eyes with a sigh as her sharp elvish features took on a serious look. “That's because she is young and came into this world with that sort of thing in mind. She doesn't see it your way because this is one of the perks of being here.”

“I am getting the impression a lot of people think that,” Heather said as she cut another fork full of cake.

“Think about it,” Breanne suggested. “A world that has no negative repercussions for being carefree with one's sexuality. No diseases, no unwanted children, no risks. You get to design the most beautiful and perfect image of yourself you desire and then immerse into that culture.”

Heather paused with a mouth full of cake before letting out a sigh and looking down. “I guess I see your point, but I didn’t come here to feed my lust. I don’t want to be here at all if I can help it.”

“I am only saying that you shouldn’t be hard on Quinny for having a different point of view,” Breanne encouraged. “She would never wish to see you harmed and has fought to prevent it many times.”

Heather nodded in agreement but wasn’t about to let a change in mood stop her from finishing a slice of cake. She finished her meal and took a seat in the palanquin as the column started to move. Hours later, she was lying on her side watching the rocks pass by as Webster crawled around on the roof. She practiced looking through his sight for a little while but found it disturbing and even a little disorienting. She assumed this was what using VR was like as she felt motion sick from the experience. Just as she wished for a good book to read, Frank arrived to inform her they were heading into the sand soon.

“Why?” she asked, sitting up as he explained.

“This is why we joined the caravan. He can carry enough water to cross the sand and save nearly a week's travel.”

“But the sand is where all the really scary things are,” she pointed out.

“No go in sands,” Umtha added as she turned about from her perch on the egg. “Stay on road.”

Frank scratched at his helm futilely as he explained that it was the only way to save time, and the choice wasn't theirs to make. Endril was going into the sand, and they were going with him. Umtha protested again, but Heather tried to be diplomatic, pointing out that getting the egg to the other side quickly was their primary concern. To do that, they needed to risk the sands and whatever might be waiting for them. That seemed to put Umtha in a terrible mood as she mumbled something about being eaten by sand lions.

“Did you learn anything last night?” Frank asked as Heather realized this was the first chance they had to speak about it.

She explained how they battled to ask questions and say nothing for a while, but then she asked about the sand demons. Franks' expression was hidden, but she could see the yellow of his eyes twitch when she brought up the notion that Hathlisora and Kevin had once been here and been lovers. He pointed out that Endril’s story didn't match the other rumors they heard, and it had no mention of Kevin's dragon. Heather suggested maybe he met the dragon later, but Frank was sure that the dragon was at Kevin's side from the earliest stories.

“So, he is lying to me,” Heather said aloud as she considered how carefully Endril avoided giving too much information. She remembered her earlier thought where it was too hard to tell what was truth and what was actually a rumor.

“I wouldn’t trust anything he says,” Frank replied. “I also don’t like how he wants to spend time with you alone.”

“We’re hardly alone, and I don’t like it either, but at least I felt secure knowing you were nearby last night,” she admitted and then thought about Quinny’s offer again. She felt the same sense of panic crawl up her spine and tried to rationalize why but no solution came to mind. They spoke for a little longer, and Frank pointed out that Endril seemed to be using the first wagon to carry his personal equipment. Heather nodded and decided to make use of her time and do a little spying. She explained her plan to Frank as she took out the figurine, but he looked skeptical of the idea. She pressed the notion and had him look around to make sure nobody was watching before uttering the command word.

It felt good to be in the open air, looking down on the caravan as it meandered down the road. From here, she could see the red dunes to their left as the wagons drew ever closer to the true desert. She marveled at how featureless the terrain became, as it turned into windswept barrens devoid of plant or rock. She focused on her task and circled overhead, where she saw Endril walking with a man at his side while Leet followed ten steps behind. Heather wondered what things Leet might be overhearing and made a point to ask him about it later. Still, her task was simple, and she wanted to look inside that wagon and see if he was hiding anything. With spread wings, she began to circle, eventually coming down on the back lip of the wagon, and hopped inside to see what could be found. She wasn't sure what she expected but certainly more than a few trunks, a neatly folded tent, and several large barrels, one of which was open to reveal it was full of salted meats.

“Not very interesting,” Heather said to herself as she hopped to a chest near the back. Here she tried to look through the keyhole, but it was too dark to see what was hidden inside. With a sigh, she turned about and made ready to fly only to see Endril staring at her from the rear of the wagon.

“Well, well, what have we here?” he said as his hand began to glow blue. “I have just the cage for a bird like you.”