Zabo Kiakor couldn’t believe how things had spiraled. From prisoner to porter, and now stranded in the wasteland, left as fodder for whatever hungry monster crossed their path. This wasn’t meant to happen, and now here they were, abandoned in the middle of nowhere. His mind reeled at how quickly their misfortune had turned worse.


    The wasteland stretched out endlessly in every direction, a desolate landscape that seemed to suck the life out of everything within it. The air was dry, thick with the taste of grit and dust that clung to the throat like an unwelcome guest. Jagged rock formations jutted out of the ground like the broken bones of the earth, their sharp edges casting eerie, angular shadows as the sun hung high in the sky. These rocks were ancient, worn down by centuries of relentless wind that howled through the desolation, shaping the land into bizarre and unsettling shapes.


    The sandy plains between the rocks were no less treacherous. The ground shifted unpredictably underfoot, with loose sand covering hidden pits and jagged stones that could twist an ankle or worse. Fine grains of sand constantly swirled in the wind, whipping across the landscape in great gusts that obscured vision and stung the skin. Every breath taken in this forsaken place tasted like ash, the scent of dry, dead earth clinging to the air.


    Towering hoodoos, their shapes resembling twisted spires or pillars, dotted the land, their bases eroded by time and the elements, leaving them balanced precariously like nature’s own fragile sculptures. These pillars stood as silent sentinels in the wasteland, their smooth, weathered surfaces a testament to millennia of erosion. They rose high into the sky, some towering hundreds of feet, their tops twisted as if reaching for something long lost in the clouds. The orange and red striations in their rock faces gave the impression of bleeding stone, marking them as remnants of a land that had once been vibrant but was now long dead.


    In the distance, towering mountain ranges loomed like ominous giants, their craggy peaks piercing the sky. The mountains were dark, almost black, and their jagged ridges seemed to slice into the horizon. Between the ranges, deep ravines cut through the land, invisible from afar but deadly to the unwary traveler. The mountains offered no refuge, only further peril, their heights teeming with predators and their passes filled with shifting boulders that could crush anyone beneath their weight. Occasionally, a distant rumble echoed across the wasteland, the sound of rocks shifting, collapsing into the valleys far below.


    The sky above was an endless pale blue, washed out and devoid of clouds, as though even the weather had abandoned this forsaken place. The sun hung like a glaring eye, offering no warmth, only a relentless, burning light that seemed to sap strength with every passing minute. Shimmering waves of heat rising from the rocks distorted the horizon, making it impossible to discern where the earth ended and the sky began. The mirages that danced in the distance teased with the illusion of water or shelter, only for the harsh reality to reassert itself with every step.


    There was no sound in this wasteland save for the ceaseless wind and the occasional scrape of a rock dislodging itself from one of the many cliffs. Life seemed absent here. Not even the caw of a bird or the buzz of an insect broke the silence. It was a land so devoid of sustenance that even the scavengers stayed away. The feeling of isolation was overwhelming, as though the entire world had shrunk to just this desolate place and its three lost inhabitants.


    This was a place where hope came to death, where the land itself seemed to conspire against life, turning every step into a battle.


    Warren, usually so quick to come up with a plan, seemed just as unsure as Zabo. And then there was Sabir—a dead man walking. The black veins crawling up his body made it clear that whatever was afflicting him was worsening. If they didn’t get help soon, there wouldn’t be much left of Sabir to save.


    With a grunt, Zabo took charge. “Warren, you need to help Sabir walk. We can’t leave him behind.”


    Warren glanced at Sabir, who was barely conscious, and nodded. He moved quickly to Sabir’s side, lending him a shoulder as Sabir groaned in pain. Every step seemed to send shockwaves through his body, but Sabir stayed on his feet—if only just.


    “Where are we headed?” Sabir asked, his voice weak and strained.


    Zabo hesitated for a moment before responding, “We’ll track back, try to head back to Havana. We came in with Warren, so maybe we can use the same route. Sound good?”


    Warren, still focused on supporting Sabir, gave a noncommittal grunt in agreement. But Zabo’s confidence faltered as he glanced around. The wastelands all looked the same.


    “Shit,” Zabo muttered. “Which way is back to Havana?”


    None of them knew. There were no markers, no familiar landmarks to guide them. They were adrift in this desert of rock and sand, with nothing to point them home.


    As the three trudged forward, Sabir’s face suddenly tightened. “Hold on... where’s Maize?”


    Warren stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. “Wait, Maize—damn, I forgot. She was in the air with that griffin.”


    Zabo’s face twisted in suspicion. “You think she brought that worm monster? Maybe she planned this, got everyone killed so she could—”


    Warren shot him a sharp look, cutting him off. “Oh yeah, Maize would totally sabotage her own expedition. Are you even thinking right now, Zabo? You’re accusing her of what? Killing everyone for no reason?”


    Their eyes locked, tension thick between them. But Zabo let out an exasperated breath and turned away. “Whatever, let’s just keep moving.”


    He took the lead, with Warren and Sabir trailing behind. None of them knew where they were going, but sitting still wasn’t an option. Movement, at the very least, gave them the illusion of progress.


    “I don’t know if this is the right way,” Zabo muttered, “but anything’s better than sitting around with our thumbs up our asses.”


    Warren shook his head. “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    As they pressed on, Sabir’s steps became heavier, and his breath grew ragged. His condition was deteriorating fast, the black veins spreading across his body pulsating with some kind of dark energy. Warren kept glancing at him, worry etched on his face. Even Zabo, as rough as he was, couldn’t help but feel a pang of concern.


    “Come on, Sabir,” Zabo urged, his voice harsh but laced with desperation. “We’ve come too far for you to die now. You gonna let your sister’s murderers get away? You really gonna give up before you get your revenge?”


    Warren shot Zabo a furious look. “Shut up! You’re not helping, you’re just being insensitive.”


    “I’m just trying to hype him up!” Zabo retorted, but his voice lacked conviction. Sabir’s condition was dire, and even Zabo knew his words would not fix it.


    Suddenly, Zabo’s expression changed. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon. “Shit… something’s coming.”


    Warren stiffened, immediately on alert. “From where?”


    Zabo pointed toward a rocky outcrop in the distance. Hoodoos stood like sentinels in the dusty wind, but something moved between them—scuttling, low to the ground. The shadows shifted unnaturally as the creatures crawled across the jagged terrain, their movements quick and purposeful.


    Warren squinted, and his stomach dropped. “Chitarraks,” he muttered, his voice grim.


    “Chita-what?” Zabo asked, confused.


    Warren didn’t take his eyes off the approaching threat. “Do you ever pay attention in class? Chitarraks—low to medium-sized scorpion monsters. One to two-star threat. Get stung by one of their tails, and without an antidote, you’re dead.”


    As if on cue, Sabir’s legs buckled, and he collapsed, unconscious. Zabo cursed under his breath. “Shit, Sabir’s down! We gotta protect him.”


    Warren nodded, his face set in determination. “Glad you figured that out, genius.”


    They lowered Sabir to the ground as gently as they could, but there was no time for tenderness. Zabo and Warren quickly fell into formation, standing back-to-back with Sabir lying motionless between them. Their eyes darted across the unforgiving landscape, where the shadowy figures of the Chitarraks crept closer, their grotesque forms emerging from behind the hoodoos like nightmares crawling out of the dark.


    The creatures moved with a terrifying precision, their legs skittering over the rocky terrain with a sharp, metallic scrape. Each Chitarrak was a horror of nature, its body shielded by thick, gleaming plates of dark armor that seemed impervious to any ordinary attack. Their pincers clicked in a rhythm that felt like a countdown to death, snapping open and closed as if they were already tearing through flesh. Over their backs, curved stingers swayed hypnotically, dripping with a venom so potent that even a single drop was a death sentence.


    Zabo swallowed hard, the dryness of his throat nearly choking him. His heart hammered in his chest as he whispered through gritted teeth, “Warren, you ever fought these things before?”


    Warren’s voice was tense, barely holding back the edge of panic. “Only in simulations…”


    The Chitarraks surrounded them now, their beady, soulless eyes reflecting the glint of the setting sun. They were waiting—waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The air was thick with anticipation; the tension stretching like a wire about to snap.


    Zabo gripped his chains wrapped around his wrists tighter, his knuckles white. “Hey Sabir, now I guess is a good time to show you why I kept those chains on.” He turned his head towards Warren. “Don’t let them get close. If even one stinger touches us—”


    “I know,” Warren cut him off, his voice strained. “I know.”


    A sharp screech pierced the air, and one of the Chitarraks lunged forward, its stinger whipping down like a scythe. Zabo barely parried it using the chains that wrapped around his arms, the force of the blow vibrating across his body. He staggered back, gritting his teeth as the creature recoiled, preparing for another strike.


    “They’re going for Sabir!” Warren shouted, panic creeping into his voice as he glanced at their unconscious friend.


    Zabo’s eyes flickered to Sabir’s still body, the black veins spreading across his skin. “We can’t let them near him!”


    Another Chitarrak lunged from behind, and Warren instinctively raised his hand, summoning a weak arc of electricity. The bolt crackled through the air, striking the creature’s armored leg. The jolt caused the Chitarrak to hesitate for a moment, its legs twitching from the shock, but it quickly regained its balance, screeching in rage.


    Enraged, it charged again, faster this time, seemingly unaffected by the brief surge of electricity. Warren’s eyes widened in panic as he tried to muster more power, but his electricity fizzled, barely sparking, before the creature was nearly upon him.


    “We’re surrounded,” Warren gasped, his breath coming in ragged spurts. He sent another blast towards the monster, preventing it from reading him


    Zabo cursed under his breath. There were too many of them, and they were closing in fast. His mind raced, searching for a way out, but there was nowhere to run. No cover. No backup. Just the two of them against a swarm of venomous death.


    The largest Chitarrak lunged. Zabo swung the heavy chains wrapped around his arms, lashing them toward the creature’s armored leg. The chains clanged against the Chitarrak’s exoskeleton with a dull thud, but it barely flinched. Undeterred, the creature recoiled, its massive stinger whipping forward with terrifying speed.


    Zabo barely dodged in time, jerking his head to the side as the venomous barb sliced through the air, hissing past his cheek. His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the chains digging into his skin as he prepared for the next strike, knowing the margin for error was shrinking by the second.


    “They’re faster than I thought.” Zabo hissed, his eyes darting between the creatures. There were too many. Too fast. Too deadly.


    Another Chitarrak lunged, this time toward Warren, its venomous tail arcing toward him like a spear. Warren barely dodged it, the force of the impact sending him stumbling backward. “This is bad,” Warren gasped, his voice betraying a hint of panic. “We can’t hold them off forever!”


    Zabo’s mind raced, searching desperately for a way out. But there was no escape. The Chitarraks were closing in, their soulless eyes reflecting the terror on Zabo’s and Warren’s faces. The screeching sound of their pincers echoed across the wasteland, growing louder, more urgent.


    Suddenly, the largest Chitarrak lunged again, its stinger aimed directly at Sabir’s exposed body.


    “NO!” Zabo screamed, throwing himself between the creature and his fallen friend. He swung his chains in a wide arc, barely deflecting the stinger, but the force of the strike sent him crashing to the ground, winded and dazed.


    Warren rushed forward, trying to charge another attack at the creature to drive it back, but the others were closing in fast. Too fast.


    Zabo struggled to his feet, breathing hard, as the Chitarraks surrounded them. The largest one hissed, its stinger raised high above Sabir, poised for a killing blow.


    Warren’s eyes went wide, his voice trembling as he shouted, “Zabo, it’s going for him!”


    Zabo lunged forward with everything he had, but it was too late. The Chitarrak’s stinger plunged down with deadly precision, aimed straight for Sabir’s heart.


    The world seemed to slow as the stinger descended, inches from Sabir’s chest. Time hung in the air, and in that breathless moment, Zabo realized there was nothing he could do.


    The Chitarrak’s strike was inevitable.


    And all he could do was watch.