The crunch of sand beneath my feet seems to echo around me. The crows’ song, beautiful, like metal scraping glass ringing in my ears. Beads of sweat travel down my face, leaving small glistening trails that evaporate in seconds. The óroolt that shields my face from the beating sun helps my burns, though through it I’ve been filling my lungs with dust. I pinch the peeling skin from my sunburnt lips in my teeth, leaving white scars and red marks where I've chewed two far. 

Two days. The same thing for two days. I only ever got a break when the sun dipped behind a ledge for those few seconds, almost reminding me that I’m exhausted. I'm tired. I could take a break. But no. I still walk. I collect more dust. My sélém stays sheathed, away from the sun. My calloused fingers run over it longingly. How I yearn to be in the shade it has.  

Two days. The same thing for two days. No food. No water. Throat dry. Stomach hollow. Every now and then my eyes focus on my surroundings. Everything is the same. The same rocks. The same sand. The only difference in the positioning of the murder of crows. They're staring. They're waiting for me to drop. So they can feast. Get a bit of food in this desolate place. 

It wouldn’t be very good. I think to myself, I would taste putrid. Leave a fowl flavor on your tongue.  My eyes shift around for another look. Why am I walking? Oh. Right. The queen is sick. She needs the tȗslakh. The forgotten healers. These special people, magic running in their veins, scattered throughout the world. Why summon them? After all these years of this magic being forbidden, why bring it back? The vein in my neck pulses as anger burns beneath my skin.

You're doing it for the money. You need it. I remind myself. 

 My line of sight dances around my surroundings, looking in the canyon to my right, scanning the ground below for snakes.

Or worse. 

 I place my sun-charred hand on the hilt of my sélém, and in one quick motion, I’m sliding down the completely vertical canyon wall, my blade halfway deep into the orange stone. I throw pebbles and stir up dust in my wake, but I don't mind. There's so much dust in my eyes already, what's a little more? I near the bottom and yank my sélém from the wall, sheathing it again.  At least seven feet from the ground, I fall, rapidly planning how to land. My nömrög floats up around me, catching air. I land on the ground, one hand placed in front of me, the other folded on my back; my left  knee touches the ground and my foot digs into the sand, providing balance to my stance. I curse in mongol under my breath as I wipe dust from my hands, and remove the small stones stuck to my skin. I lift one off the ground that catches my eye and turn it over in my hand.

Strange… the thought echoes through my body. The stone is black. Unnatural. My thumb slides over the three rings that wrap themselves around it like small snakes. Red as the setting sun of the Govi tsöl. 

Foreboding gnaws at my brain, and at first I don't notice anything. Everything is normal. Well… as normal as it can be in the desert. 

Then the switch flicks up. The crows are gone. Their forever watching eyes have now shifted their gaze elsewhere. I mutter my confusion in mongol, my breath ringing through the deep cavern. A forgotten wind. My foot lifts and aims onward, my eyes set through the canyon and to the palace. As my shaakhain touches the ground, it rumbles. A growl, as if I wasn't supposed to take that step; My foot wasn't meant to touch that spot of ground. I freeze. A burning sensation shocked it’s way through my hand. I gasp and drop the stone, it’s lifeless thud echoing on the quaking walls. Three lines stretch along my palm, showing where the stone had burnt into. 

“yuu ve...?” I say. ‘What the...’ in Mongolian. My voice dies in my throat as pieces of orange stone fling themselves down the steep sides of the cavern. My head shoots up, looking for cover but there is none. I’m in the open. My raised eyebrows lower. I pound my fist on my chest, activating the turtle-like shield that erupts from underneath my nömrög, the metal plates clink as each one locks into place. I double over and tuck my arms in. Rocks shower down on the black metal, the larger stones falling in front of me stir up clouds of dust, taking my sight.  It feels like ages before the clinking stops. The large stones in my vision are pulled away from me by some invisible force. I watch them, still hunched, while they make snakes with the sand. My eyes fixate on them as they continue to slink away. My back straightens, two of my fingers push the button on my chest to make my shield into a sliver of metal under my nömrög. I turn around to scan for anything trying to attack. Nothing piques my eyes’ interest. My lungs savor a deep gulp of air before it's knocked out of them. My mind reels. I'm thrown against the cavern wall; something like stone pushes against me, keeping me there. The malgai I was wearing floats peacefully to the ground, exposing my black shoulder length hair. My arms are trapped, put solid onto the wall. The sharp stones split the skin pushing deeper and deeper until my eyes water. My feet are lifted off the ground and dangling there several feet from the ground, useless with nothing to catch. My lungs don't pull in any air, like there's a hole in my throat and it's only filtering through. I press my hands into the wall.

“From the earth I bring forth my strength!” The mongolian chant rips through me like fire. Turquoise light erupts from my palms, vines push their way through the cracks in the burnt orange stone, pushing me and whatever was holding me down back. The creature lets out a roar of surprise. I fall to the ground and unsheath my sélém, the ring of it delicious in my ears. I ignore the pain and blood seeping out of my arms. The splash of vegetation slows its growth. A titan of stone towers over me, merley feet from where I stand. The heat rolling off of it is almost unbearable, but I stay strong. The lava holding together the various boulders making up its body oozes through it. My eyes shift to behind it, where a massive hole has opened in the earth, the heat visibly pouring out of it. My eyes barely have time to refocus when the titan throws a half molten boulder. I launch myself messily out of the way, landing on my side and scrambling to get up. I catch a glimpse of the rock from earlier. My mind reaches out to my hand, physically remembering the burn marks

The heart, I think. My target has been set. I know what to go for. The stone, which barely fit in my palm, seemed puny in its chest. 

With a yell, I ran at it. Sélém drawn, face straight. To any human it would look like I had no fear, but any ilbechin would know the blood pounding in my ears. 

My sélém drives deep into its knee; it lets out a roar loud enough to rupture my ear drums. Thank the skies for my magic, otherwise the fight would have already been won.

 I drag it down, creating a deep score on its leg, lava bleeds out of the gash and drips on the ground, cooling and hardening into black stone. I land back and immediately jump again, this time slicing at its torso as it kneels, grasping at its leg. 

If this thing wasn’t so big it would be dead already! I shout internally.The tip of my sélém glows orange, steaming as the metal cools. The titan groans, seemingly weakening. 

But obviously I had got the wrong idea. Before I knew it I was pinned to the ground, my head between its index and middle fingers. My sélém clashes to the ground, just out of my reach. I shout viciously as I feel a few of my ribs starting to give way under the pressure of its hand. My skin burns, bearing countless marks of its brutal heat. It takes a few seconds before I can force my voice to a calm, low tone. 

“I refuse to lose this way,” and with much straining I maneuver the hilt of my sélém into my hand. 

Thank the skies for blessing me with thin arms. 

I tuck my sélém next to me and drive it straight through the titan’s hand. It roars in pain, lifting its hand off me and holding its wrist while lava pours out of where my sélém impales it. A devilish smile makes its way across my face as I stand and turn my hands towards the titan. Turquoise light explodes from them. As dry as the desert is, no amount of water is too small for the tȗslakh magic in my veins. 

“From the earth I bring forth my strength!”  Vines erupt from the ground and snake around the titan’s legs, the leaves scorch but the vines are strong, they hold it down. My hands move upwards and the vines follow, curling and constricting its torso. I'm so caught up in my magic I don't even see the blow it’s throwing at me until it hits. It lands in slow motion, hurling me across the clearing and driving me into the wall. I hit hard, back first into the stone, having the wind knocked out of my lungs. 

Wow.. I think groggily as I fall with a thud. I really do die this way. I slump to the ground, my legs folded under me. The stabbing pains in my chest tell me my ribs are broken. I can feel places that got hit the hardest start to swell. My body groans. I watch the titan rip through my vines like they're paper. It stomps towards me, seeming to be burning hotter than before. I smile sarcastically at it.

“Ayí, titan. Seems like you won,” I say, as it gets inches away from my face. The words take every last ounce of my energy. Its mouth contorts into what looks like some sort of smile. I blink at it, still smiling. Its smile falters. 

“It's a shame..” I pause, “..that it only seemed like it,”  

One of my vines punctures its back, wrapping itself around the heart and crushing it into rubble. Its limbs twitch as it tries to lunge at me, but is only tugged back by the waters of death. The light of its magma goes out; small plants and vines sprout from where it should've been, creating a small garden for every space between boulders. The green travels up until its entire being is teeming with green life. 

“Bayarlalaa, tenger mini,” I thank the skies and stand up, beginning my trudge to the palace once again.