[ WP ] They said I would n't make it this far . I wish they had been right .

*The Plains of Silver* 
 
 As the sun disappears behind the horizon, the oppressive heat follows it, and the air begins to cool. I crawl slowly from the shade of my tent as the last of the daylight fades. After a stretch and a yawn, I reach for the small canister sitting on the cracked ground beneath the ancient metal totem a few meters from my tent. 
 
 I sigh in frustration as I examine at the indicator. Less than two-hundred milliliters. I open the lid to the condenser and sip down the small portion of water that will have to sustain me for the next several hours, careful not to waste a single drop. I look at the indicator of the small solar battery sitting next to it. At least it's full. With a tap on the touchscreen the light at its base comes on, illuminating my small camp in place of the sun, which has now completely vanished. The stars have begun to show themselves one by one in the clear sky, and a bright half-moon is in view. 
 
 I take the next hour to inventory my supplies, check that everything is operational, and eat one of the small ration bars from my dwindling supply. Before striking camp, I take a few more images of the small rusted totem that marks the route my ancestors took through the desert over a thousand years before. No one can translate the symbols on the totems, but no one has recorded as many of them as I have before. No one has been out this far since ancient times. If I am successful, perhaps that will all change. 
 
 ***** 
 
 My feet ache with every impact against the ground, baked hard by centuries of scorching heat. The moon and stars are bright in the sky, and I can see the path in front of me clearly without my torch. There is no sound except for the gentle breeze blowing across the empty landscape. The air has grown surprisingly cool, even for this hour of the night. I shiver and pull my cloak close to my body. 
 
 Today marks the forty-fourth day since I set out. There were five of us in the beginning. We were n't the first to try and cross the deadlands, but we were better equipped and better funded than any who tried before. We thought we could make it. Everyone else thought we were mad. Even those few who have returned from the deadlands have had little or nothing to show for it. 
 
 It only took a week before Tamm and Vorun were killed by a pack of dire dogs which slipped into camp while we slept. We were barely out of the Long Valley. I said we should should turn back, but Stifen, our expedition leader, insisted we go on. He died two weeks later from heat stroke. Jemi and I continued on, afraid that we did n't have enough supplies to make it back. The stress got to him. He grew paranoid and lost his grip on reality. He tore into my tent one night, with a look in his eye like a rabid animal. It took all of my strength to fight him off of me and get a hold of my pistol. When I did, I put two bullets through his head. It took a whole day to pull myself back together enough to think rationally. The ground was too hard to dig any sort of grave. I left him there in the desert, took as much of his supplies as I could fit in my pack, and continued on. 
 
 I've been alone now for fourteen days. I have n't seen a single animal, a single live plant, not even a stray bird in the sky. Nothing is alive out here. Perhaps not even me. My skin aches from the exposure and the constantly fluctuating temperatures, but aside from that I feel nothing. I do n't know what is carrying me forward, but I keep going. All of the legends seem to say the ancients did n't walk much more than forty days from their homeland. Surely it ca n't be much farther. 
 
 ***** 
 
 I lay down on the hard, dusty ground panting. The hill was steeper than it looked in the dim moonlight. I detach the condenser from the back of my pack and look at the indicator. It's at nearly six-hundred milliliters. Am I delirious from exhaustion? I blink my eyes and make sure I'm reading the indicator correctly. Five-hundred and ninety-seven milliliters exactly. I quickly get the cap off and gulp down the windfall my condenser has gathered for me. The cool water soothes my exhausted body. 
 
 The air has grown still and the cold snap has passed. I lay there in that spot for some time, letting the worst of my aches subside. As I do, the first light appears over the horizon. I sit up, knowing I will have to set up camp quickly before the heat of the day sets in. And as I look towards the horizon, my eyes take in a sight they are not prepared for. 
 
 Down the other side of the hill, still nearly an hour's walk from where I sit, there is a shimmering plain of silver, perfectly flat and without flaw. Where the first pinkish light peeks over it, the plain reflects its hue like a mirror. And in one particular spot, perhaps several kilometers in diameter, a myriad of tall dark spires rise from the plain, towering over it eerily. And as the light grows, I can see birds, or something like birds, flying between the spires and a thicket of vegetation that lines the edge of the plain. 
 
 It takes me several minutes to process what I'm looking at. It's unlike anything I've ever seen or heard of. Suddenly, I find myself taken by a rush of energy. I scramble to my feet, sling my pack over my shoulder, and dash down the hill towards the plain. I nearly stumble twice in my descent. 
 
 I slow down as I reach the bottom, steadying my pace as I know I still have some distance to cover. From the bottom of the hill the spires look taller, almost as if they are touching the sky. I fight the urge to quicken my pace. I do n't know what this is I've seen. But I want to see it up close. 
 
 *continued... *
