The Desert seems never to end. In fact, it cannot be mapped, by satellite nor paper, for its expanse ascends all human imagination. Surprisingly, it is cool and moist. The very air seems to grab hold of one’s clothes, as if attempting to halt the movement of all things. The Sky is grey, the sand the color of peppered charcoal. It appears as if the Desert itself rejects the idea of life, as no trees grow and no animals live. Nothing moves, save those unfortunate enough to wander into it. There are no sounds; no birds singing, no squirrels chattering. Even lizards are unable to exist in this place. If ever a breeze blows through the Charcoal Desert, it is as if a thousand souls come together to mourn the death of one held dear.

The weather remains perpetually the same. Of course, there are fantastic instances in which a storm chances upon the desert. Clouds, thick and black as ink, blot all Light, championing impenetrable Shadow. Dark oily liquid oozes from the Sky, only to be swallowed up by the ground instantly and silently. Lightning doesn’t have a place in the Desert. Instead, rays of Dark flee from the Sky, striking at miniscule forces of Life and releasing itself, swallowing up all Light for a fleeting second. And in even more extremely rare circumstances, a wind blows, terrible and fierce. It bites and it claws, snatching up everything obscuring its path, specifically living creatures. It roars and moans and groans, the noise tearing through the Charcoal Desert like a grieving orchestra of unfathomable size.

Every few centuries an incredible day may pass, one in which the Sun smashes through the thick gray Clouds, blazoning its majesty over all the Desert. The Clouds retreat to their lair beyond the horizon, and a brilliant blue takes their place. Even the pepper-Charcoal sand seems yellow and warm. It appears that the Desert falters in its perpetual struggle with Life, for faint chirping can be heard and the gossamer stems of plants seen. An uncanny cheerfulness sets into the landscape, infecting all. The whole Desert seems radiant with Life, color flooding its entirety. At night, every star, every constellation and galaxy, millions upon millions burst from hiding to reveal their intense majesty. The Moon shines as bright as the Sun, pouring liquid silver onto the Desert, bathing the cool earth with its ever-shimmering, ever-shifting radiance. Fireflies dance about, their glow creating multitudes of patterns. This day is the most grand, whimsical, marvelous passing that can be seen in the whole of the universe.

But of course, all good things must come to an end. As the Moon retires beyond the horizon, the red of dawn permeates the Sky in only the most fantastic sunrise. The Sun awakes, moving to reclaim its throne. But the blue of day can never fill the atmosphere, and the Sun cannot enthrone itself upon the ceiling of the world once more. The Clouds roll in from their lairs on chariots of Dark, merciless in their attack, absorbing all light in their path. The Sun cannot contend; Light, taken on its knees, cannot unmask its beauty under the onslaught. Once again, Darkness reigns, and Life is vanquished.