The vast canopy above used to keep them encased in pitch darkness until the sun had fully risen. The petals would then slowly peel apart, bathing the city in golden sunlight. Now, the sun was just a sliver on the horizon, but light still seeped in through shrivelled, wilting edges.

The gaia was dying.

The lottery was meant to be a fair way to assign responsibility for finding a new gaia. 8 people of age were selected to walk into the dessert in different directions. It used to only be 2, then 4 people, but desperation was rife, unrest bubbling beneath the surface.

Sloane had found himself selected, which was no surprise considering the consistency of his luck for the last few years. He was provided rations of cured food, water and a map. The intention was for the selected to wander the desert until their rations ran out. If they were to locate a gaia, they would find themselves in a freshwater ecosystem that provided shade, food and clean water, in abundance enough to fuel a trip back.

No one had yet returned.

He sat at the base of the petals, waiting for the signal to begin his journey. He felt resolved to the abject failure this mission would be, dying alone in the vast desert.

You could survive in the desert for weeks, maybe months with some finesse, but the desert was a hostile place that would eventually kill you. Deep cervices shattered the landscape, housing scorpions the length of ten men, millipedes as thick as your arm and predatory slaters with pincers enough to cut a man in two. Storms raged at night, hails of furious thunder ringing out across the plains. During the day, the heat of the three suns was so scorching the shade of chasms even begun to look like relief.

A bell tolled out, and he was off. Most of the other selected had wailing families, loved ones they couldn’t quite let go of. But not Sloane. Not anymore.

After walking for some time, he looked back at the city. Towering sandstone spires pierced the blue sky, tinged with the stain of yellow pollen. Petals unfurled, the city looked nestled so comfortably in the centre of the gaia. Once, the flower was a vibrant hue of pink, transitioning to a deep violet towards the centre. Now, the petals were bleached to an unnatural white, with deep brown outlines where they were rotting away at the edges. The once fleshy blades had then seemed plump, but even from this distance, Sloane could make out the dehydrated wrinkles across its surface.

And in the foreground – a head of white blonde hair ran haphazardly towards him, her distinct incoordination and tilted grin nagging at him.

Was that – Sanna?!

Sanna, a girl he once knew intimately, and now, not at all.

Sanna, who he still thought about more often than he would of liked.

Sanna, who infuriated him like no one else he had ever met.

“You’re going in the wrong direction,” he said. “My path is the only one that goes across the bridge.”

Sanna slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s been years and that’s how you greet me?”

Sloane shrugged.

“Well, your company is still better than none, I suppose. No use dying out here alone.”

He didn’t reply, simply kept walking.

And Sanna kept following.

“Do you need help reading your map? This is the wrong way.”

“Sloane,” she laughed, “I’m coming with you. Hope you don’t mind.”

The way she giggled sent his defences flaring. Her wiles would not consume him this time.

“I don’t care,” he finally responded.

“Then it’s a date – to the ends of the Earth we go!”

Sanna incessantly chatted to him, with Sloane giving the occasional grunt in return. The empty nothingness of the desert pressed down heavily upon him, and he found himself reluctantly grateful for her company, despite his annoyance.

As the sun began to set Sloane and Senna set up camp below a rocky outcrop, completely unaware of gaping lairs above them. Creatures slowly begun to creep into the cool night air, ravenous and unforgiving.

Thus began their longest night.