Chapter Eleven

Outskirts of the Blood kingdom.

The Wastelands...

The harsh sun shone brightly on the dry atmosphere, the sands were baked hot, and there was no water in sight. Dead trees could be found in various areas of the never-ending desert, along with carcasses of dead animals. A smoky stench surrounded the atmosphere, and a dense fog could be seen further into the desert.

Calhoun, along with his two-man guards, trotted slowly into the wasteland. They had consumed almost half of the food and water they brought along with them, and it eventually became a scarce commodity they didn't dare use anyhow. He cursed his father again for making him go on this stressful journey, wondering how he would help his guards as he was the only one capable of surviving the deserts.

The guards put up a blank face, but Calhoun knew that they were barely keeping it together. Unlike him, who, thanks to the power he was born with, could survive the harshness of the boiling sun, his guards weren'