Ariane takes a seat beside the man in black, and she watches him work. They're a pair of corpses, the two of them: covered in bandages, white-haired, and rail-thin, Ariane looks like the desert wind could easily pick her up and carry her away.

His unnatural black eyes look into her equally-unsettling red ones, and he asks the first sensible question Ariane has heard in this place.

"Song of my soul, my voice is dead; Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed; shall dry and die in Lost Carcosa."

Too bad her answer isn't sensible at all. But it makes sense to Ariane. Carcosa, the ancient city, just out of reach. Wellstone, the town at the edge of an endless desert.

"Is it calling to you?"