Sometimes, Anapa really, really wished he could tack on an extension to his death alarm abilities. A general weirdness alarm would be useful. It would just be handy to know about some things in advance, like, say, being magically transported to another world for no reason at all.

Seriously. At least Anapa could accept some culpability for the way he’d come to Shaman, since he had chosen to step into a death portal which then spat him out on the opposite side of the universe. On this occasion, he hadn’t done anything. All he’d done, once he’d finished brushing his teeth in the bathroom, was to open the door back to the rest of his suite and step through… into blistering heat.

Anapa blinked. Laid bare before him, a red desert wasteland stretched as far as the eye could see. The blazing blue sky yawned cloudlessly above it, merging with the sand on the horizon in a fuzzy haze. He twisted around and was struck with two sights which immediately conjured very different emotions.

The first, in the foreground, was Tahl. Anapa had never been so relieved to see anyone in his life. Whatever else may be going on right now, at least there was a friendly face here - usually, the only one. Tahl looked about as confused as he felt and was dressed just as inappropriately, so he probably hadn’t planned this trip. Anapa took a step towards him, his eyes sliding past his friend and onto the looming palace in the background.

It was magnificent, even with its edges blurred by heatwaves. The pale sandstone mansion was clearly built for elegance rather than fortification, with its many open archways and windows. The details were invisible from this distance, but they were etched irreversibly into Anapa’s memory: intricately carved and painted reliefs adorned most of the walls and every pillar. Three stories high, it towered over everything else in the vicinity - even the thick, high wall which encircled its grounds. Palm trees peeking over the top of the wall indicated the presence of greenery on the inside, marking an end to the barren desert behind them. The blocklike, flat-roofed, open-air architecture of the palace was the kind unique to hot climates and was unlike anything which existed on Shaman.

Thus far, shock had held Anapa’s tongue. As his wits returned, he managed to deliver some form of explanation.

“This is the Kingdom of the Canids,” he said out loud, for Tahl’s benefit. The words felt rusty and disused in his mouth. “That’s…” a slight frown creased his forehead as he regarded the distant palace, trying to find the most accurate descriptor. Home didn’t feel quite right anymore, if it ever had. “...Where I used to live.”

There didn’t seem to be much point in asking what in the world they were doing here. Perhaps the ancestors had some plan in mind, although Anapa couldn’t begin to fathom what. He shrugged helplessly - a colloquial gesture he’d learnt from Tahl - and started walking. The size of the palace and the lack of comparable objects in the barren desert made distance deceptive; it barely seemed to get any closer as they trekked, the weight of the sun bearing down upon them. At least Anapa had dispensed with his outer robe after joining the rebels in the forest, so that was one less layer to sweat through.

Ancestors, what has my life become?

“Tahl,” Anapa’s forehead creased pensively, “there is one or two things you should know about me before - ”

“Prince Anapa!?”

The faintly familiar voice hailed them from behind, a distant shout. Anapa turned and beheld a figure riding towards them at speed from across the desert on something which may have passed for a horse on Shaman, although it was green and covered in scales. The rider, slender but unfit, was puffing from exertion as he pulled up in front of them, his permanently round face and wide eyes giving him a childlike air. Right now, his eyes were as big as saucers.

“It is you!” He gasped, struggling from a complex-looking saddle and hitting the ground hard on the flat of his feet. He staggered forward a couple of steps. “Are you a spirit?”

“No.” Anapa deliberately avoided looking at Tahl. “Atelli, how long…?”

“Three full cycles round the sun.” Atelli reached up to grab the horse’s bridle. “The king… oooh. The king! He’s going to… he’ll…”

Anapa turned wordlessly and carried on plodding back towards the palace. Atelli fell in behind at a respectable distance, turning a curious eye over to Tahl.