The Starlight Heir

We arrive in Nyriell during a level four cyclone.

Even dressed in heavy protective gear, I feel the dust and wind battering my body. The thick breastplate, pads, undertunic, belted skirt, and boots, as well as a full mesh covering for my head, seem flimsy against the onslaught. Hunkering down, I tug against the raised collar of the undertunic, the mesh cap falling into a hood over my face. The material is coarse and strong, made with some kind of reinforced fabric. It scratches against my skin like roughened wool, but I’m grateful for it.

Within seconds, a dark, oily haze on the surface swarms us as if the scorching sun has lit the air on fire. The portal winks out behind us, and I can barely hear the shouts of the others over the roar of the gusts. Waves of crimson heat make the earth look like an undulating ocean of blood. It’s simultaneously scary and beautiful, but I blink through my protective goggles, wondering where all the buildings are. There’s nothing but rock and gravel as far as the eye can see.

“There’s no one here,”