In Ascalon the days were warm and breezy, the nights mild and generally nice. In Kryta the days were steamy and bright, sometimes nearing intolerable. The nights held a faint chill, but were a blessed break from the humidity of the daylight hours. The Shiverpeaks were always cold. Day, night, it didn�t matter. The only entertaining thing about the weather in the Shiverpeaks is taking bets on whether the next day would be more icy or snowy or both.
Even after the cold of the Shiverpeaks, the nightcold of the Crystal Desert was difficult to endure. The dayheat even more so. We would sweat and press on during the days, stopping at every oasis and every settlement to rest and take shelter from the blinding white-hot sun. My pale skin wasn't suited for that sort of abuse, and I generally came out looking less tan and more like a bit of meat roasted over an open flame. Thankfully I could call on Dwayna's healing touch to sooth the burns and little pains that seemed to hold me back. Dwayna's healing breeze is of no help here, it only stirs the sands and blinds us, scratching our eyes and skin, settling into our armor and itching relentlessly.
As difficult as things were for me, there were even more of a burden on my companion. His armor is heavy and thick; I imagine he must have been sweltering. Always I put him before myself during the evenings when we'd stop to make camp, either alone or with others traveling the treacherous dunes. The rangers would play as bards, singing and regaling us with stories as warriors dragged wood from Grenth knows where for the elementalists in the party to bring to life with their fire magics.
I was usually the only monk in the camp, and therefore in high demand. But always I would tend to him first. Carefully removing his armor and healing the cuts and bruises I could see, and some I could just feel.
The nights were freezing. The Crystal Desert is only suitable home for the ghosts that lurk everywhere, and perhaps extremists. Personally, I'm not fond of burning and freezing within a three-hour time span. So when night fell I would return to his side, always. Everyone would gather around the brightly burning fire and share the foods they'd hunted and scavenged for throughout the days. Some faces became steadily more familiar through our travels, some of our once companions we never encountered again.
To sleep, Ryzael and I would huddle together under a single tent with Jabberwock at our side for added warmth and protection. I would wrap myself in our guild's cape and his would lay over us both. Sometimes I thought I felt him shiver, but he always pretended the cold was of no bother. As long as I was warm, he seemed happy.
Here and now, I can only look back on those moments with longing. Nights and days I shiver, not from the chill of ice or snow of a land with no sun, but because Grenth's grip is powerful here, and I can feel the frozen fingers of death slowly wrapping around my heart and lungs. Inside I am cold. It's effected Ryzael as well. He only speaks to give orders to our team, or me specifically. Jabberwock is uneasy near him, and won't sleep within five yards of the man we were both so attached to.
Ryzael doesn't hold me at night. His arms don't enfold and protect. He allows my back pressed to his and nothing more. No one sleeps well here, the harsh red glow of the lava makes everything and everyone seem sinister. Everyone here seems bigger and stronger, they leer at me like I'm some sort of joke, but give nods of respect to Ryzael. I'm afraid of this place and the things it's done. I plead with him, beg to continue on. Away from Ember Light Camp and further into the Ring of Fire. Back into the Northernmost Shiverpeak towns and camps where we first made love. Back East, into the Crystal Desert where we faced Ascension together. Anything but stay here.
I'm afraid to stay, but what will happen if I leave him here and go on alone? Perhaps I can join one of the larger exploration parties that leave soon after the ships with newcomers to this evil island chain arrive.
Living things are not meant to stay in this place. They become corrupt and evil, like the very stones beneath their feet. And maybe it�s changed me as well. Maybe that's why we can�t turn back. We can't go back and face our guild members like this. We can't face our friends with this worry and pain etched so clearly into our features. But we can't go any further into this hell without the courage and confidence we left behind during our last mission.
Perhaps I only need to be away from him...and this camp...for a bit. I shall take Jabberwock and hunt some of the drakes on the Northern shores of this so-called island.
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