The tunnel air is cleaner than the castle’s. The ground still shakes but the smooth earthen walls hold. The mildewy smell dissipates as the cool, clean air flows in. We’re heading towards an exit. The tunnel widens, giving us more delicious fresh air. I suck down lungfuls.
We emerge from the tunnel, running hand in hand into the light.
We don’t stop until we’re well away from the castle. White hot pain runs up and down my legs. My hip is throbbing where the doorway scraped it. Diala has a dark smudge on her forehead, a bruise on her pink skin.
The castle rises behind us, its spires piercing the clouds. Gray smog hangs over the land, turning the sky into a haze, blotting out the suns. My foot hits a stone and Diala keeps me from falling over. We stagger a few more steps, and stop.
I double over.
“What now?” Diala asks.
I hold up an index finger, my lungs too overworked to answer.
The world shakes again and we grab each other to remain upright.
“The Stone King was a magician of great power,” Diala mutters. “This is the result of his death curse.”
“This planet is so weird.”
Diala starts. “You are not from here?”
“Nope. I’m a human from another planet. Long story. Come on!” I find her hand again. Her palm feels familiar after our long escape together. She lets me pull her up the hill, overlooking an endless rocky plain.
A white-gray desert stretches out before us. There’s nothing but silt and sand and stones all the way up to the hazy lavender sky. Here and there, boulders break the monotony of sand, along with the occasional twisted, leafless tree.
“This place is a wasteland.” I scuff at the ground. It’s coated with the same whitish-gray flaky stuff that coated the castle walls. “Is this from the spell?”
Diala turns in a circle, her shoulders hunched. “One of them. The Stone King was powerful but his magic required a price. He did not give to the land, he only took. It turned his kingdom into a death-scape.”
“This whole kingdom is like this?”
She shrugs.
“What about the people?” I recall the refugees in Hunter’s throne room.
“They left, or died.”
I wipe my mouth. It’s bone dry. I’m filthy, and there’s no water. “We need to leave, too.”
There’s a boom like thunder, and a crack opens up in the desert before us. Diala hustles me back over the crest of the hill. We fling ourselves down into the sand. Behind us, the castle is falling in on itself. Silt rains down. We cover our heads.
“What’s happening?” I whisper.
White dust coats Diala’s eyelashes. She shakes her head. We both hug the ground, letting the curse-dandruff coat us.
The earthquake fades. A single spire of the castle remains. I rise but Diala yanks me back down.
Over the hill comes a grinding sound, like flint striking flint, magnified a hundred times.
Staying low, Diala and I crawl up the rise. We’re coated in the gross dust, so we blend right in with the ground.
That mildewy scent is back. My legs are cramping and my stomach folds in on itself. The sight is so nasty. Saliva pools in my mouth like I'm going to throw up. I swallow my gorge and crane my neck to peer through the rocks we’re hiding behind.
The earth has opened up and birthed rows and rows of statues coated in the flaky dust. They’re holding spears, and their legs move with a sound like teeth grinding. In the distance, the ground is still shaking, and more statues appear, marching in neat formation. Column after column, as far as the eye can see. There have to be thousands of them.
“I was afraid of this,” Diala says in a breathless whisper.
“What is it?” I keep my voice to a barely audible volume.
