To the east, where I was heading, there was sand. Sand for as far as the eyes could see. Scorching heat, scorpions and nights colder than this tower, crusted with ice as it was. I could almost feel the sand burning my feet, the sun assaulting my skin without mercy. The moon, cold and distant, never answering the howl of the wind. And the walls of a city greater than I had ever seen, the buildings half covered in sand, worn smooth by the eons it had stood empty.