Chapter 4: The Crystal Barrens

Kenji awoke face down in sand that glittered like fractured glass, sharp and biting against his skin. As he lifted his head, he squinted against the harsh brilliance of the sun reflecting off an endless expanse of jagged crystalline shards. The air shimmered with heat, bending the horizon into wavering mirages, and every breath felt dry, as though the desert itself was trying to leech the moisture from his lungs.

Gone was the oily scent of steam and machinery from the City of Rust and Steam. Instead, the Crystal Barrens assaulted his senses with the crisp, clean smell of minerals and the faint, metallic tang of ozone. Kenji sat up slowly, his muscles sore from the transition, and looked down at his new attire: a worn, leather vest reinforced with metal plates, sun-bleached trousers, and heavy boots. A weathered bandolier slung across his chest carried small vials filled with shimmering dust, though he had no idea what they were for.

Focus, he reminded himself. The ache from his phantom wound still throbbed in his chest, a constant, cruel companion.

A shadow fell over him, and Kenji's head snapped up. A broad-shouldered man stood a few feet away, draped in flowing desert robes that shimmered like liquid silver, his face hidden behind a cloth mask and mirrored goggles. He carried a massive, hooked staff that glinted in the light, and his stance was both wary and defensive.

“Up already, eh?” The man’s voice was gravelly, like stones grinding together. “I wouldn’t move too fast if I were you. The shards around here are sharper than a butcher’s knife.”

Kenji blinked, disoriented. “Where am I?” he asked, his voice cracking from the dryness in his throat.

The man tilted his head, though the goggles hid any hint of expression. “You’re in the Barrens, outsider. The Crystal Barrens. A place that cuts you if you breathe wrong and drives you mad if you stare at the reflections too long.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And you, friend, fell from the sky. Not the first time it’s happened, but it’s rare enough to make the Seekers curious.”

Kenji's heart skipped a beat. Seekers. Again. Different world, but the name sent a shiver through him. “Seekers?” he repeated cautiously.

The man’s grip tightened on his staff. “Best not to say it too loud,” he said, glancing around. “They come hunting for those marked by the shards. People who’ve… seen too much.” He straightened. “I’m called Varek, by the way. And you are?”

Kenji hesitated, then answered, “Kenji.”

Varek studied him, as if weighing the truth in that name. Finally, he sighed and gestured with his staff. “Come on, then. The sun won’t wait, and we’d best find shelter before the mirage storms hit.”

As they made their way through the crystal desert, Kenji marveled at the landscape. Massive shards of translucent rock jutted out of the ground, some the size of small buildings. The crystals refracted light in ways that made it difficult to discern where the ground ended and the sky began. It was beautiful but unnerving, like walking through a broken dream.

Varek led him to a cluster of sandstone outcroppings that formed a natural shelter. Several other figures emerged from the shadows: a wiry woman with deep, sunburned skin who wore a belt of small knives; a young boy clutching a battered metal slingshot, his eyes wide with mistrust; and an elderly man who sat cross-legged, weaving thin ropes from cactus fibers.

The woman eyed Kenji with suspicion. “Who’s this, Varek?” she demanded, her voice sharp as the shards they had just crossed. “Another stray? We can barely feed ourselves as it is.”

Varek raised a calming hand. “Easy, Lira. He’s no threat. Just another lost soul, like the rest of us.”

Kenji cleared his throat. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I just need… answers. There’s something strange about these shards, isn’t there? Something that distorts reality.”

The old man looked up from his weaving, his milky eyes locking onto Kenji. “Aye,” he rasped, his voice like wind over dry bones. “The shards hold memories of worlds that never were. Whispered dreams of what might have been, or might still be.” His hands trembled, and he dropped the half-woven rope. “They show you things you wish you could forget.”

Lira scoffed. “Enough with the old man’s tales,” she snapped, but there was an edge to her voice. “The Barrens are dangerous enough without you filling his head with ghost stories.”

Kenji frowned. “I need to know more. If the shards are connected to other realities, then maybe they can help me understand—”

A high-pitched, keening wail interrupted him, echoing across the desert. The air thickened, shimmering with unnatural heat, and Varek cursed under his breath.

“A mirage storm,” he said, grabbing his staff. “Everyone inside! Now!”

The group scrambled into the deeper recesses of the sandstone shelter as the wail grew louder. Kenji followed, heart racing, and peered out as the storm hit. The crystals began to hum, and mirages flickered to life in the air—visions of people and places that didn’t belong in this world. He saw a bustling city skyline, then a battlefield strewn with fallen soldiers, then a serene forest that twisted and rotted away before his eyes.

“Don’t look,” Varek warned, grabbing Kenji’s shoulder and pulling him back. “The mirages will drive you mad. They show you the lives you’ve lost, or lives that could have been.”

Kenji squeezed his eyes shut, but the storm's whispers seeped into his mind. Echoes of voices he almost recognized, fragments of memories that weren’t his but felt painfully familiar. He clenched his fists, fighting the sense of déjà vu that clawed at his sanity.

Finally, the storm passed, leaving an eerie stillness in its wake. Kenji slumped against the rock, drained and confused. “These shards… they’re more than just crystals,” he said, his voice shaky. “They’re connected to the worlds I’ve been to.”

Varek regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “You speak as if you’ve traveled through more than just the Barrens,” he said slowly. “Is that why the Seekers hunt you?”

Kenji nodded, the weight of his endless journey pressing heavily on his chest. “Every time I die, I wake up in a new world,” he explained. “A different life, a different fate. But I’m being chased, and I don’t know why.”

The old man’s hands shook as he resumed his weaving. “The Seekers follow those who disrupt the cycle,” he murmured. “They are guardians of the status quo, punishing those who remember too much. If you’ve truly seen other worlds, you’re a threat to everything they protect.”

Kenji’s pulse quickened. “Then how do I stop them?”

The old man fell silent, but Lira’s eyes softened, just a fraction. “You can’t,” she said quietly. “Not unless you shatter the very thing that binds this world together.” She glanced at the crystals, their surfaces dull in the fading sunlight. “But that would destroy everything.”

Kenji set his jaw. Destruction wasn’t the answer—there had to be another way. He needed to learn more about these shards and the forces at play in this world, but first, he had to survive long enough to find those answers.

Varek rose, his staff clinking against the ground. “Rest for now,” he advised. “The Barrens aren’t kind to those who exhaust themselves. And tomorrow…” He hesitated. “Tomorrow, we’ll see if you’re truly as cursed as you claim.”

Kenji leaned against the rock, exhaustion dragging at his eyelids. As he drifted into a restless sleep, he wondered: how many more worlds would he have to endure? And would he ever find a way to break free from this endless cycle?