Ezra’s throat burned. Arid wind blistering sand into his face, he staggered through the Damale Desert. He’d landed on Rarogan in the middle of nowhere. No landmarks or topographical features in sight. Ezra had started off in one direction, hoping it would lead him to the Wilderness of Karak. The Damale Desert expanded over a huge fraction of the northern part of the planet, and at the very pole, lay the Wilderness of Karak. The Volcano of Shin was one of the few openings to the core, where the Jewel of Laridal lay, but he knew that was not his path. The Volcano may house the safest way, but the shortest and best way lie through the Swamp of Sudura.

Thoughts of rebellion wrestled in his heart, threatening to mar the glimmering ring on his finger. Every Wanderer or Immortal, born in the Upper Realm or Rarogan, was given a ring at birth, one which could never be removed. The ring was a blessing to all whose loyalty remained with the king, but to the rest, the ring was a curse. For each and every law broken, a person’s ring would darken with irremovable scratches. A tally of all the crimes of the king’s people. Anyone who had a scratch was banished to Rarogan, while anyone with an unblemished ring was free to roam and explore the Upper Realm in tranquility.

Ezra’s breaths came in short, struggling spurts. Exchanging the body of an Immortal for the cursed body of a Wanderer made him realize even more just how much beauty and blessings the Wanderers lost when they rebelled with the Hermit. He had also lost his Immortal ring, and the Wanderer ring he now bore was given to him by a lone Desert Ranger. “A gift from the king,” the ranger had said. Ezra knew the only way the ring would remain unblemished was if he remained loyal to the king, but with the the ever-increasing thoughts of how the king had betrayed him, he knew he could only accomplish his mission if he relied solely on the king’s words and authority. In this desolate haven of deception and confusion, Ezra knew it would be only so easy to slip into rebellion against the king. Even one accident, and his ring would be marred forever, with no hope of ever returning.

A trickling sound reached Ezra’s ears, and he urged his legs. Somewhere over the next sand dune ran a stream of water. If only this dune wasn’t so high…

He reached the crest of the dune and peered down. The Damale Desert ended at a wide creek of the murkiest water ever seen. Beyond that, the Wilderness of Karak lay barren and empty. Looming in the distance, the first peaks of the Macari Mountains jutted into the dismal maroon sky. Way off at the far end of the range, a livid orange glow spewed smoke into the sky. The Volcano of Shin. The only place on the planet swords could be made, and Ezra’s destination. For he could not face the Onkrons, much less the Hermit, without a weapon.