The air is scorching, but even the stifling heat cannot warm the frigid stillness in my soul.

The air is putrid and foul and I long to retch, but cannot afford even the slightest weakness lest I break.

I look around the vast flatness that has been loosely called home for the past six months.

The orange sands have been spotted with the dark copper, and the once prominent smell of spices has been overrun with the metallic tinge of iron.

As I glance around me at the disfigured limbs and scorched bodies I can't help but think,

Was it really worth it?