The journey to Ashara did not take much time. The terrifying difference in climate, however, made itself known long before we arrived.
Ashara was a blazing hot continent. Now I understood why it was called the Southern Sundered Waste — the name was not poetic exaggeration. It was a literal description. A terrible expanse of sand and relentless heat, stretching in every direction like the world had been left too long in the sun and simply given up.
Before the ship Baraka had offered us even set sail from port, I was already feeling the effects. My clothes suddenly felt far too thick, the fabric constantly slick with sweat that never seemed to dry. Even Kassie felt the increase in temperature and often showed more of her skin than usual — not that she had ever been particularly modest about it in the first place. She dismissed her armor entirely and stuck with a light linen gown that still looked uncomfortable.
