DRY PLANET

Chapter 4 – The Departure

DRY PLANET

by Manilyn Nalaunan

Dawn crept into Solara like a thief, slipping through the cracks of broken rooftops and painting the ruins with the faintest blush of pale light. There was no coolness to this hour, no gentle promise of relief. Even before the sun cleared the jagged horizon, the heat was stirring, heavy and relentless, ready to smother the city once more.

Elsie stood at the edge of the square, her cloak wrapped tightly around her, watching the first rays of fire strike the stone towers. She clutched her flask, empty as ever, and felt the weight of the map against her ankle where it was hidden inside her boot. Her heart thudded, faster than the stillness of the square deserved.

This was the morning she and Maru would leave.

She looked back at the city—her home, though it hardly felt like one anymore. Solara was nothing but cracked stone and desperate voices, its streets haunted by hunger, its wells silent and dry. Yet the thought of stepping away from it, of walking into the vast desert where so many had vanished, left a hollow ache in her chest.

Maru appeared at her side, his pack slung over his shoulder. It was pitifully light, filled with little more than strips of dried grain and cloth to shield against the sun. His expression was hard, but his eyes softened when they met hers.

“Still sure?” he asked quietly.

Elsie tightened her grip on her flask. “If we stay, we die with them. If we go… at least there’s a chance.”

Maru nodded, though his jaw was tight. “Then we go.”

They moved through the city with the silence of shadows. Few people were awake yet; those who stirred did so slowly, worn thin by thirst and hopelessness. A man sat slumped against a wall, his head bowed over his empty flask. A woman lay curled in a doorway, her lips cracked, her child clinging weakly to her side. Elsie’s heart twisted, but she forced herself not to stop. If the map was true, if the spring existed, then someday she could return—for them.

The gates of Solara were not guarded as fiercely as the wells. Who would choose to leave? The desert was more feared than the Council’s spears. Even so, Elsie felt the burn of invisible eyes as they passed beneath the rusted archway, stepping beyond the crumbling walls and into the endless sand.

The desert stretched before them, vast and merciless. Dunes rolled like frozen waves, their ridges gleaming gold beneath the rising sun. Heat shimmered already in the distance, though the day had barely begun. There was no sound but the whisper of sand shifting under their steps.

For a moment, Elsie faltered, staring at the immensity of it. “It’s like walking into the sky,” she murmured.

Maru adjusted the strap of his pack. “No turning back now.”

They walked. The sun climbed higher, pressing down on their backs. Each step sank into the scorching sand, pulling at their strength. The air was so dry it felt like knives in their throats. Their shadows shortened, clinging to their feet.

By midday, they had found no shade, no relief. Sweat burned Elsie’s eyes, stinging, though there was so little of it to spare. She pulled her cloak tighter around her skin, shielding herself from the sun’s bite. Each time she faltered, she thought of her grandmother’s voice, of the symbol etched on the map, of the dream that somewhere water still flowed free.

That night, they stopped atop a dune, spreading a ragged cloth between them as a makeshift shelter. The desert had changed its face—the sun replaced by stars, countless and cold, burning like frost against the black. The silence was deeper than the city’s, a silence that swallowed even the sound of their breathing.

Elsie lay staring at the sky, exhaustion weighing on her limbs. But when she closed her eyes, sleep brought no rest. She dreamed of water—rushing, laughing, a river that sparkled in sunlight. She dreamed of its sound, bright as bells, filling her ears until her heart ached with longing.

When she woke, her cheeks were wet. She touched her face in shock, realizing the moisture was real. Tears—precious, wasted tears she could not afford.

Maru stirred beside her, watching silently. His face was shadowed, unreadable. At last, he said softly, “Dreams don’t fill a flask, Elsie.”

Her hand tightened on the cracked clay at her side. She turned her face back toward the stars. “No,” she whispered, her voice fierce despite the dryness of her throat. “But they lead us to where it can be filled.”

The desert stretched endless ahead, its horizon receding with every step. Yet Elsie felt something stirring within her, a pull deeper than fear, stronger than thirst.

The map had called them. And now, with each step away from Solara, it was as though the earth itself was guiding them onward.

They were no longer prisoners of the silent wells. They were seekers.

And though the desert would test them, break them, and swallow them whole if it could—Elsie vowed it would not.

She would find the spring.

Or she would die chasing it.