Golden sand whipped around the air as it raced across the dunes, harsh enough to remove flesh from the bone.  The landscape ominous and treacherous, beckons the brave ones who dare, but there was no salvation to those who crossed it. The crimson and azure suns began to set in the west as if they were being dragged into the dunes without struggle. In the horizon was a cloaked figure; a man whose face was scarred, whether by the sands or by battle was uncertain. As he hobbled across the endless desert, with his sword hanging limply from his waist, each step seemed to be in excruciating pain.

With his rapidly decreasing strength, he had managed to make it this far. Now, he had nothing left. He was tired, parched, and hungry. His eyes lean from countless battles with unspeakable evils now seemed to lose all fire from it. He has endured so much, now to be defeated by nature herself. He has fought the urge to collapse, to tell the desert that his will was stronger than his body, but when his strength finally gave, he could fight no more.

He looked up to the heavens, gazing upon the stars which were beginning to show themselves, the very stars he had used for courage and guidance, but they were of no help this day. He brings his gaze down, and took the last visages of the suns as they finally disappeared behind the dunes. With his last breaths, he utters, “I have done all that I can, I can do no more. I have failed to do what I had sworn… Forgive me…”