I was a young man in En’Kara, a desert city in the middle of barren land riddled with terrible beasts. I’d never left the small town before these following events, and, frankly, my life would have been much worse had this not occurred.

My name is Avias Bin’jake, born to noble parents and expected to carry on the Bin’jake lineage. I looked like most others in En’Kara, if not with more luxurious clothing, complete with tan skin, dark hair, and a white headdress to protect me from the relentless suns.

The difference, however, between me and all the other En’Karan people is that I was called upon by The Traveler, a deity of chaos and change. This calling was unusual, to say the least, in our city. This meant I would be the only person not to worship Desana, a goddess of peace and tranquility that had been the center of En’Kara’s monotheism. This, apparently made me a disgrace—unworthy of carrying on my lineage and even of living.

This is the story of the beginning of my new life.

It was a sweltering summer day in En’Kara, and I, like all the other denizens of this place, was waiting outside of the Temple to Desana to hopefully be blessed by the Devoted, a priest of sorts who claims he’s been spoken to by Desana herself. Rarely did a fraction of this crowd actually get inside, yet we waited. It was like a tradition.

That specific day, I had a horrible headache since the moment I woke—I couldn’t even place where the pain was; it was omnipresent. After failing to make it inside the temple before sundown, I staggered home with my head in my hands. My parents were home, too.

My mother was a kind noblewoman who worked as an innkeeper in En’Kara; most everybody knew her for her status, but she was very humble. My father was a stern man—he always told me I had to face my problems and bring peace to them, through whatever means necessary. These two people are the only reason I have any regret.

‘‘How was your day, son?’’ my mother asked as she prepared a meal.

‘‘Like most other days, I suppose.’’ For some reason, I didn’t tell her about the headache. Even as I reminisce now, it didn’t feel like I had a choice.

‘‘Well, I hope it was enjoyable. Come, dinner's almost ready.’’

I tried my best to forget my pain, and I kneeled by a small shrine in the corner of the room—a small, sandstone mantle, matching the walls, that was adorned with religious trinkets and statues of Desana. I began my nightly prayer, and that is when my life changed.

I usually prayed silently, leaving my thoughts moving about freely in my head as I thanked Desana for our peace. However, that day there was another voice in my head, apart from my own.

Don’t panic, Avias. Remain calm. Change is coming, and I am here to prepare you.

I could only freeze in place as I heard the voice. It was oddly unplaceable—not male nor female—but the power emanated through my now strikingly painful headache and throughout my body.

You must listen to me if you are to survive this change. Dark events are impending. You must hear me out.

Quietly, I pondered this for a few moments. Finally, my breathing was less shaky and my heart rate was slowing down.

Who are you? I asked with a thought.

I am The Traveler. You don’t know my name because you worship Desana. There are many other deities, Avias. Your city blinds you to reality.

I stared at the small shrine in front of me, quiet and still. I tried to focus on how long it had been since I started prayer, but the voice filled my mind again, sending another wave of excruciating pain through my head.

I call upon you, Avias, because I see great potential in you. You can be my Champion. We can embrace this change.

I could have sworn I heard my mother say something then, but I couldn’t hear her.

Overcome this adversity, child. Change is the material with which I fabricate the universe. Go.

Suddenly, the pain in my head abruptly disappeared, and my vision went stark white for a moment. I had to collect myself before standing.

‘‘Avias, is something wrong?’’ It was my mother’s voice, a relief.

‘‘I’m not quite hungry,’’ was all I could muster before I stepped quietly into my room and sat on my bed. I could hear my parents having a conversation outside. My father’s stern voice permeated the air—I couldn’t hear what he was saying, just that he was speaking.

Tell me more, what am I facing? I thought, hoping fruitlessly for a response.

The Traveler was no longer present, but I felt like the deity left a part of itself in me. I could feel the need for change. Whatever it was, I felt inclined to overcome this adversity.

Reluctantly, I slept that night. The rest was cold and silent, without the slightest sense of respite. I found it difficult to completely understand what had happened to me. I arose far too early in a cold sweat, the very faint pain of that familiar headache.

You may not like it, but this is who you are now. If death come, so be it. Such is the nature of change. Change is good.

That same damned voice left as quickly as it came.

I sat in my room, alone, staring at the bland, sandstone walls for the next few hours, knowing I needed to retreat from my loneliness soon enough. It felt as though I’d be dragging the weight of the world along with me if I left this room. The previous night’s events had left me terrified of what could possibly happen that morning. Reluctantly, I rose from my seat, taking a cursory glance around the room—without knowing it would be my last. With each aching step toward the doorway, the thoughts of The Traveler flooded my mind and soul, overwhelming Desana’s presence. This is who I am now, I reassured myself silently, if death come, so be it. Even in an attempt to be reassuring, I only brought a fearful frown to my face. I stepped through the doorway.

My mother and father were in the kitchen, not speaking to each other; it was my fault—I cut my prayers short and decided not to eat the previous night. I couldn’t bear to have them look at me, yet look they did. Still, not a word. I glared at the shrine across the room. Small candles were lit and placed on the mantle as well; I’d never seen that before, since candles were often only used to signify that a loved one had passed on. I steeled myself, swallowed, and looked away from the shrine. I could hear my mother gasp quietly at my actions. Silence stung my ears for a moment before her soft voice shattered it.

‘‘Is that it? You dishonor this family—this kingdom—and nothing to say for it? If I didn’t know better, I’d be confused as to whether you are actually my son,’’ she spoke quietly and sadly—I couldn’t even detect the subtle presence of anger I expected—and paused for a moment to catch her breath, before continuing, ‘‘how would the Devoted look at you right now? The Bin’jake child, rejecting Her Peace. Be glad I even have words for you, because he surely would not.’’

I lowered my head, desperately combing through my own mind to find something, a single phrase, to say. Redemption was unlikely; it would be better to stay quiet. The silence lasted an uncomfortably long time, until my mother’s voice, again, rang out.

‘‘Come now, child,’’ she began walking for the exit of the house, and I hesitated to follow. ‘‘There are people out there that will execute you for refusing to bow at that shrine. Unless that sounds reasonable to you, I’m not going to let it happen.’’

‘‘Mother,’’ was all I could muster. If it were possible, I’d bring my head lower. I’m not sure she heard me; she was already digging through a large compartment filled with supplies for surviving in the desert where we lived. En’Kara was safe; we’d never had to use this equipment before.

‘‘This is the only way,’’ my mother responded. I had to look away from her at that instant, blinking tears out of my eyes and catching a glance of my father’s clenched fists. ‘‘It’s the only way to ensure your safety, Avias,’’ she reiterated.

She slipped a pack of supplies out of the compartment. It was filled with various tools and equipment, but what stood out to me the most in that moment was the tent.

My mother was choking up, too. ‘‘Go, before I change my mind.’’

I was sure my legs would be locked in that moment, planted on the cold, sandstone floor and refusing to move, but I am sure it was some otherworldly grace that lifted my legs on my behalf, step after step toward my teary-eyed mother.

The next few moments were a blur. I carefully bolstered the pack onto my shoulders, my mother said something to me, and I was gone. It was the last time I’d see my home.

As soon as I reached the outskirts of En’Kara, my mind registered what my mother had told me before I left.

‘‘Desana’s peace be with you.’’

One can’t help but wonder: if not for this, what would become of me? My exile was only the beginning of my life; it cannot possibly define me, but if not, then what will? My refusal to follow peace mindlessly like my ancestors thousands of generations before me has led me to a path of freedom and change. Devotion to The Traveler is one of the greatest assets of my short existence, but at what cost! En’Kara’s lady of peace abandoned me the same day my parents did. If I die today, this is what defines me.

As I took step after step into the relentless desert, I remembered the conversation I had with my mother. All I heard in that moment was the voice of my patron: Overcome this adversity, child. Change is the material with which I fabricate the universe. Go. I was already outside the alabaster manor I had called home for 17 years. I was already beginning the rest of my life. Life changed; the only belief that comforts me is that change is necessary.

For the next six years, I survived by my lonesome. I braved the furious, relentless sands that surrounded my previous home. I fought off the monstrosities that attempted to take my life everyday. I couldn’t accept death, not yet; it is the most impactful change. Every day for these six years I’ve awaited a different change. I’ve awaited the voice of The Traveler. I’ve waited for it to return to me and pardon my subconscious yearning for peace.

That time had come. My patron brought upon me a change. My thoughts shrouded my body in its funeral vestments shortly beforehand.

The distant sound of voices outside my pitiful tent. The rumbling of those towering desert dwellers below the sands. Change is coming. The Traveler is coming.

If not now, then when?