• I've been taken. Taken against my will and forced to suffer in silence halfway across the world. They say I am with my brothers; if that's true, then I have been disowned.

    An ancient desert is the omnipresent set-piece that dominates my captivity. Millennia upon millennia of churning sands have buried the blood that has so often stained this hallowed ground, but the air is still heady with the dreams and desperations of better men than I. Men that were taken just as I was, and fought a war more terrible than I can imagine. Their poignant desires stretch across time and taunt me, thinking my efforts futile. How can a lesser man not be claimed where so many have?

    But I've been armed, and armored, mentally and physically. Those who took me hardened a soft resolve into a firm will. My will does not stem from where they wish, however. It is not for country nor brother that I defy the whispers of the desert and the wild eyes of my enemy, but for myself. I will not bow. I cannot.

    I have entered this desert weak, alone, and afraid, but I will leave it a better man, a stronger man, or I will not leave at all. And if I am truly entrenched in misfortune, this desert will claim a part of me, and I will walk in a limbo between hell and life. Taken forever far away, walking the desert in my home, my dreams, and even in her eyes.