>Who are you?
>Where are you?
>How did you get here?
>These thoughts and more float in head as you feel yourself soar on unseen currents through this waterless sea.
>Wait…
>There it is.
>A purpose.
>It’s vague, but it’s there.
>You need to find something, or someone.
>But what exactly is it that you are looking for, and why?
>Your unvoiced queries echo off into the eternal distance.
>You wish you weren’t stuck in this.. place.
>You can’t move, can’t see or feel.
>But something in the back of your mind tells you there is one thing you can do.
>You flex incorporeal muscles you didn’t know you had.
>They flow through and around you like snakes, ready to enact your will.
>You think.
[Show me where I should go.]
>And they do.
>Out of the nothingness they come.
>Sights, sounds, smells, all of it at once.
>Visions of foreign places and unrecognized faces.
>...
>You see her.
>A girl, working feverishly on some mechanical contraption.
>She’s in a small, dark, and dusty workshop.
>Old tomes and mistreated manuals litter the tables and shelves around her, where the space isn’t taken up by drawings and other little machines.
>A half eaten pastry sits forgotten on a dingy little desk on the far side of the room, next to a mug of coffee that has long since gone cold.
>The girl herself looks like she’s seen better days.
>Or maybe not.
>Her hair is dirty and unkempt, her clothes are lightly dusted like the room itself.
>The girl herself is incredibly pale and likely hasn’t seen the light of day in a long while.
>She mutters to herself as she continues to work on her “thing,” whatever it is.
>A small crystal on the contraption begins to glow softly.
>She lets out a small gasp before muttering with even more intensity.
>As she tinkers with the thing when suddenly the glow from the crystal begins pulsating rapidly.
>”No, no, NO!”
>There’s a muffled poof, and the crystal shatters.
>”Argh!”
>She takes the thing and throws at the other wall, before sighing and slumping down, face in her hands.
>...
>You’re in the countryside now.
>A young woman is attempting to till her fields, but it doesn’t look like it’ll do her much good.
>The ground is dry, practically dust.
>It’s not just this farm.
>The surrounding countryside looks to be in a state of drought.
>There might be a famine in the near future, if it hasn’t started already.
>But still, on and on the woman works.
>The sweat and dust on her brow and some scratches in the dirt are the only reward to her hard work.
>She pauses for a second to look off in the distance.
>The road is empty.
>She gives a forlorn sigh before turning back to her work.
>...
>A city appears before your eyes.
>It’s streets bustle with the activity of what must be thousands of people.
>Gleaming spires and boulevards paved with what may as well be marble.
>The vision shifts.
>Clean, beautiful squares and tall buildings built to please the eye make way for narrow streets beneath wooden shacks built one on top of another.
>There is people here, no less than before, but everyone is dirtier and shiftier.
>In one of these streets a young girl sits.
>She huddles in shadow of the crowd, covered with a threadbare shawl.
>In front of her is a beat up tin, in which lies a single coin.
>The crowd passes her by, few even deigning to look at her.
>She stares at the ground, a sad look on her dirt smeared face.
>...
>You see a small town.
>While nowhere as ostentatious as the city, it is quaint.
>Small parks and humble buildings make for a pleasant atmosphere.
>A shopkeep sits in her small work area, looking bored.
>She fiddles with some cloth before setting it on top of a small pile of similar pieces.
>Her face momentarily shifts to one of worry as she looks at the window of the shop.
>Several holes mar the surface of the otherwise pristine glass.
>They seem to be recent, but have since been covered up.
>Seems like there was trouble recently.
>The shopkeep looks from the window to a small painting on the wall.
>It’s of a noble couple, sitting on a bench with a mansion in the background.
>A wistful smile crosses her face before it promptly leaves.
>A small bell jingles, the sound disturbing the young shopkeep’s peace.
>She rushes to greet her potential clients.
>The scenery changes again.
>...
>A cottage sits on the edge of the forest.
>It’s empty.
>Your focus shifts elsewhere, into the forest itself.
>An animal shrieks in pain.
>There’s the rustling of leaves, then silence.
>In a clearing, a figure is hunched over a huge white stag.
>The animal is clearly in pain, and blood has wet the grass around it.
>The figure is movements are quick and erratic.
>They try to staunch the wound and soothe the animal.
>It’s no use.
>There’s too much blood.
>And there’s something else at work here.
>The stag coughs out blood, and its eyes cloud over.
>The figure doubles their efforts, but it’s too late.
>The stag gives a final ragged breath before finally succumbing to its wound.
>The figure pauses, then embraces the animal, as though to say they’re sorry.
>They finally look up.
>They is actually a she, and she peers deeper into the woods.
>Tracks lead off into the deep forest, strange ones.
>She has worried look on her face, but it quickly turns into one of determination.
>She gets up and sets off.
>...
>Pastures in an idyllic hill country.
>Sheep graze as a young shepherdess plays around with some rocks.
>She juggles them, sometimes throwing one out, then hitting it mid-air with another.
>It’s quite a sight.
>She hits every single one of them without fail.
>When she runs out of rocks, she takes a large stick from the ground and begins to play around with it.
>She duels with imaginary foes, hacking and stabbing the air.
>The sheep occasionally pause their grazing to look at her, unimpressed with her antics.
>Jumping onto a small boulder, she brandishes her weapon at her invisible adversaries, as though daring them to challenge her.
>A yell startles her, causing her to lose her footing and tumble off the boulder.
>Another shepherd waves at her frantically, obviously distressed.
>That’s when she sees it.
>A pillar of black smoke on the horizon.
>”Not again…”
>She rushes off to follow her compatriot.
>The sheep watch as they leave before returning to their grassy meals.
>They aren’t going anywhere.
>...
>A desert stretches out to the horizon in all directions.
>The occasional mesa juts out of the ground in the far distance, stretching up to meet the sky.
>A young woman sits in the shade under a tree.
>She looks out to the horizon, as though she were expecting someone.
>She’s haggard, but otherwise calm and peaceful, and her clothes and pack, though somewhat dirty and worn, are well maintained.
>There are scars on her face and hands.
>She’s obviously had a hard and violent life, as young as she is.
>Behind her, a cloud of dust grows closer.
>Someone is coming.
>She looks back at it, then continues to look forward.
>She occasionally looks up at the empty sky, then down at her wrist, at a crude time telling device.
>What could she be waiting for?
>Whatever, or whoever it is, it seems as though they’re late.
>The vision fades, as do your senses.
>These are what you must find.
>You must gather all of them.
>However, you can’t be in seven places at once.
>So where should you start?
>You think for moment, before deciding.
>You see it in your mind.
>You want to be there.
>And so, there you are.
 
>The desert sun shines upon you, it’s heat warming your skin.
>You look around.
>It’s just like your vision, except now you’re in it.
>In front of you is the young woman from earlier.
>She sits there, giving you a blank stare for a second before finally recoiling in surprise.
>You probably weren’t who she was expecting.
>The dust cloud from earlier is even closer now, but the figures within remain obscured.
>The woman briefly looks back at it before picking herself up off the floor.
>Grabbing her pack, as well as some odd looking materials that lay in front of her, she makes her way over to you.
>She slows down as she nears you, before coming to a  stop a short distance away.
>She has a nervous look on her face now.
>”Are you the one they told me to meet?”
>Who?
>You look at her in confusion.
>”You know what, we can talk about that later. Can you help me?"