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>Who are you?
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>Where are you?
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>How did you get here?
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>These thoughts and more float in head as you feel yourself soar on unseen currents through this waterless sea.
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>Wait…
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>There it is.
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>A purpose.
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>It’s vague, but it’s there.
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>You need to find something, or someone.
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>But what exactly is it that you are looking for, and why?
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>Your unvoiced queries echo off into the eternal distance.
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>You wish you weren’t stuck in this.. place.
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>You can’t move, can’t see or feel.
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>But something in the back of your mind tells you there is one thing you can do.
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>You flex incorporeal muscles you didn’t know you had.
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>They flow through and around you like snakes, ready to enact your will.
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>You think.
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[Show me where I should go.]
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>And they do.
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>Out of the nothingness they come.
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>Sights, sounds, smells, all of it at once.
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>Visions of foreign places and unrecognized faces.
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>...
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>You see her.
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>A girl, working feverishly on some mechanical contraption.
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>She’s in a small, dark, and dusty workshop.
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>Old tomes and mistreated manuals litter the tables and shelves around her, where the space isn’t taken up by drawings and other little machines.
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>A half eaten pastry sits forgotten on a dingy little desk on the far side of the room, next to a mug of coffee that has long since gone cold.
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>The girl herself looks like she’s seen better days.
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>Or maybe not.
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>Her hair is dirty and unkempt, her clothes are lightly dusted like the room itself.
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>The girl herself is incredibly pale and likely hasn’t seen the light of day in a long while.
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>She mutters to herself as she continues to work on her “thing,” whatever it is.
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>A small crystal on the contraption begins to glow softly.
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>She lets out a small gasp before muttering with even more intensity.
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>As she tinkers with the thing when suddenly the glow from the crystal begins pulsating rapidly.
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>”No, no, NO!”
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>There’s a muffled poof, and the crystal shatters.
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>”Argh!”
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>She takes the thing and throws at the other wall, before sighing and slumping down, face in her hands.
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>...
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>You’re in the countryside now.
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>A young woman is attempting to till her fields, but it doesn’t look like it’ll do her much good.
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>The ground is dry, practically dust.
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>It’s not just this farm.
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>The surrounding countryside looks to be in a state of drought.
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>There might be a famine in the near future, if it hasn’t started already.
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>But still, on and on the woman works.
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>The sweat and dust on her brow and some scratches in the dirt are the only reward to her hard work.
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>She pauses for a second to look off in the distance.
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>The road is empty.
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>She gives a forlorn sigh before turning back to her work.
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>...
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>A city appears before your eyes.
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>It’s streets bustle with the activity of what must be thousands of people.
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>Gleaming spires and boulevards paved with what may as well be marble.
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>The vision shifts.
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>Clean, beautiful squares and tall buildings built to please the eye make way for narrow streets beneath wooden shacks built one on top of another.
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>There is people here, no less than before, but everyone is dirtier and shiftier.
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>In one of these streets a young girl sits.
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>She huddles in shadow of the crowd, covered with a threadbare shawl.
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>In front of her is a beat up tin, in which lies a single coin.
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>The crowd passes her by, few even deigning to look at her.
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>She stares at the ground, a sad look on her dirt smeared face.
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>...
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>You see a small town.
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>While nowhere as ostentatious as the city, it is quaint.
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>Small parks and humble buildings make for a pleasant atmosphere.
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>A shopkeep sits in her small work area, looking bored.
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>She fiddles with some cloth before setting it on top of a small pile of similar pieces.
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>Her face momentarily shifts to one of worry as she looks at the window of the shop.
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>Several holes mar the surface of the otherwise pristine glass.
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>They seem to be recent, but have since been covered up.
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>Seems like there was trouble recently.
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>The shopkeep looks from the window to a small painting on the wall.
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>It’s of a noble couple, sitting on a bench with a mansion in the background.
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>A wistful smile crosses her face before it promptly leaves.
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>A small bell jingles, the sound disturbing the young shopkeep’s peace. 
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>She rushes to greet her potential clients.
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>The scenery changes again.
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>...
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>A cottage sits on the edge of the forest.
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>It’s empty.
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>Your focus shifts elsewhere, into the forest itself.
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>An animal shrieks in pain.
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>There’s the rustling of leaves, then silence.
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>In a clearing, a figure is hunched over a huge white stag.
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>The animal is clearly in pain, and blood has wet the grass around it.
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>The figure is movements are quick and erratic.
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>They try to staunch the wound and soothe the animal.
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>It’s no use.
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>There’s too much blood.
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>And there’s something else at work here.
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>The stag coughs out blood, and its eyes cloud over.
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>The figure doubles their efforts, but it’s too late.
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>The stag gives a final ragged breath before finally succumbing to its wound.
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>The figure pauses, then embraces the animal, as though to say they’re sorry.
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>They finally look up.
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>They is actually a she, and she peers deeper into the woods.
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>Tracks lead off into the deep forest, strange ones.
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>She has worried look on her face, but it quickly turns into one of determination.
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>She gets up and sets off.
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>...
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>Pastures in an idyllic hill country.
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>Sheep graze as a young shepherdess plays around with some rocks.
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>She juggles them, sometimes throwing one out, then hitting it mid-air with another.
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>It’s quite a sight.
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>She hits every single one of them without fail.
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>When she runs out of rocks, she takes a large stick from the ground and begins to play around with it.
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>She duels with imaginary foes, hacking and stabbing the air.
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>The sheep occasionally pause their grazing to look at her, unimpressed with her antics.
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>Jumping onto a small boulder, she brandishes her weapon at her invisible adversaries, as though daring them to challenge her.
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>A yell startles her, causing her to lose her footing and tumble off the boulder.
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>Another shepherd waves at her frantically, obviously distressed.
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>That’s when she sees it.
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>A pillar of black smoke on the horizon.
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>”Not again…”
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>She rushes off to follow her compatriot.
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>The sheep watch as they leave before returning to their grassy meals.
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>They aren’t going anywhere.
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>...
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>A desert stretches out to the horizon in all directions.
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>The occasional mesa juts out of the ground in the far distance, stretching up to meet the sky.
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>A young woman sits in the shade under a tree.
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>She looks out to the horizon, as though she were expecting someone.
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>She’s haggard, but otherwise calm and peaceful, and her clothes and pack, though somewhat dirty and worn, are well maintained.
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>There are scars on her face and hands.
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>She’s obviously had a hard and violent life, as young as she is.
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>Behind her, a cloud of dust grows closer.
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>Someone is coming.
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>She looks back at it, then continues to look forward.
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>She occasionally looks up at the empty sky, then down at her wrist, at a crude time telling device.
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>What could she be waiting for?
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>Whatever, or whoever it is, it seems as though they’re late.
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>The vision fades, as do your senses.
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>These are what you must find.
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>You must gather all of them.
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>However, you can’t be in seven places at once.
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>So where should you start?
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>You think for moment, before deciding.
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>You see it in your mind.
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>You want to be there.
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>And so, there you are.
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>The desert sun shines upon you, it’s heat warming your skin.
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>You look around.
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>It’s just like your vision, except now you’re in it.
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>In front of you is the young woman from earlier.
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>She sits there, giving you a blank stare for a second before finally recoiling in surprise.
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>You probably weren’t who she was expecting.
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>The dust cloud from earlier is even closer now, but the figures within remain obscured.
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>The woman briefly looks back at it before picking herself up off the floor.
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>Grabbing her pack, as well as some odd looking materials that lay in front of her, she makes her way over to you.
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>She slows down as she nears you, before coming to a  stop a short distance away.
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>She has a nervous look on her face now.
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>”Are you the one they told me to meet?”
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>Who?
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>You look at her in confusion.
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>”You know what, we can talk about that later. Can you help me?"