Dust

The rider had seen Eshadria, the smaller of twin suns, alone in the sky once before. It cast a glow across the floor of his ramshackle hut. Golden rays danced upon the red dust of the dead world beyond his doorstep. He longed to just pass away from this place, and let his tired body of his become another statue in the hall of the dead. That is all this place had in store for anybody. Despair, and a passing of the light beneath the veil. Penance paid to the mother for centuries of sin. Squinting his eyes he gazed out towards the light as it rested upon the crest of the Maheydara mountains in the distance. Half hidden by the darkened peaks, it raged against the approaching shadow. Between the spires and beneath the toxic clouds it casts its light. Oh, how it shined. He breathed deeply through the tattered scarf covering his face. He could almost feel the dying star's warmth prickling his skin. Closing his eyes he remembered why he must go on, why he must survive. In the eye of his mind, he could see them so clearly. They were out there somewhere, he had to find them. He lifted his right hand and reached for the star, for a pair of faces that weren't really there. A little bracelet with a brass elephant exposed itself from beneath the fringe of his glove and his sleeve, little rays of reflected light flickered through the glass of his goggles, distracting him from those he reached for. The faces of the family that was taken from him. Pensively, he admired the oddity before him, such a small thing, tied to such dear memories. Turning his hand towards the sky, he placed his left hand over the medallion to shield it from the light. And all at once he was calm. He Reached deep for resolve. The wind whispered softly in his ears, taunting him, "Come now, poor creature, chase me to the end of this world". He swung a heavy tired leg across the seat of his grouler, and he flipped the switch, breathing life into the artifact. The machine needed the light to sustain its metal body. It had basked long enough to get him where he knew he must go. "If you can fight just a bit longer, old friend," he whispered into the air towards the star; "I need you to be my guide". He clenched his knees and pushed hard on the accelerator. He chased the wind. Descending upon the red wasteland. Moving quickly, unseen. He would rage against the darkness and all he left was dust.