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This story in written in response to 
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The hoverbike lay abandoned on its side, the engine still warm. The fine black dust carried by the incessant wind was a snake that crept in every small recess.
From the top of the dune the Tesseract 19 could be seen with the naked eye. The column pierced the black sea of
graphite and challenged the dark crimson sky. The awareness of his distance made him wince. That construction was enormous. That impenetrable artifact, Moloch's sharpest tooth.
Intertwined with dust, the warm wind brought an imperceptible howl: the bark of the monolith, an omen of death.
The man waited, a stiff exoskeleton bent over the black sand. The helmet lay abandoned beside him. Soon the team would have arrived.
"Soon you will arrive too and everything will be accomplished, one way or another."
He thought of her smile, her courage, her strength. "My life, how could I've been so reckless to have you involved in all this?" The tears were already kneading blackened as the memories of their happy normality swept over him.
"I cannot let them find me like this". He stared at himself from outside: another tower on a dune, far more uncertain than the one that howled his feral wish.
These and other demons echoed within the chambers of his soul, when his eyes met a green sprout. The man stared that little miracle that, against every odd, was striving to affirm its existence. In the midst of that sea of bottomless
despair.
The tear finally found its way lingering and bathed a leaf. The man managed to pull himself together and, now smiling, he put on his helmet.
"This Moloch will tremble, time has come for an awakening."
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The Oracle was clear on what was to be done. Among the gloom and doom find a tender hope that bears the path to the awakening.
He had lost everything, his men, his friends, and his love. A moment of dejection overwhelmed him but he was a lot tougher than that. He knew that the sacrifice of so many could not end in this.
At times he wondered why the Oracle could not just show where that b***dy hope was lying. As if to be chastised, a deafening thunder tore the crimson sky. A streak of lightning evaporated the skeleton few meters from him. It appeared that he did get on the nerves of the Oracle.
“Alright, alright, it was just my tired body. I hear you Oracle.” With so many enemies, Harshim hardly needed the Oracle to jump sides.
The Tesseract 19 was not only visible but also audible. The “whirr” at the pinnacle warned him that his ethereal form could be vaporized like a hapless fly should he get closer. He had no intention of getting close anyway. The Shlem and its army were put to sleep near the Tesseract and not in it.
The best guess from legends long forgotten was the north-east access to the Tesseract. A group did get close to achieving the objective few centuries back and the Moloch burned down everything. Now the Tesseract was surrounded by a wasteland. Hope was nowhere to be seen. Harshim felt that the only place hope was blooming was within him.
“That’s it. Hope sprouts.”
In a wasteland of dunes spreading miles only a miracle could bring forth that sprout which he had witnessed. Harshim turned back. He could see the glass shards created by the lightning. In his excitement, he had given away his position to the Tesseract. The “whirr” was growing louder and it transformed into a roar.
“Damn, the Moloch’s risen. I hope I am right about the sprout. Oracle give me something.”
The adrenalin rush brought together the strewn pieces of the jigsaw puzzle in his mind. He saw it clearly now. The sprout. The lightning strike. All were few feet of each other. The Oracle did respond. That was indeed the spot.
Harshim’s tired body attempted a run fired by a coagulated lump of energy powered by the fear of the Moloch behind him and the hope of salvation ahead. He drew the Ninjato sword and lunged to pierce the ground with it. The sword slid in.
Harshim turned on his back and saw the disgusting monster aiming right for him.
“What the hell? Shlem isn’t going to save me?”
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“Hmm.. Ah.. what happened?” Harshim came to senses after a week.
“Relax, you are healing.”
Harshim made it. He remembered Moloch’s dive from the sky to bludgeon his hapless body and then Shlem’s shield obliterating Moloch’s dagger.
‘Time had come for an awakening,’ he thought. ‘Awakening achieved!’ He closed his eyes in contentment and relaxed. Like the doctor had ordered.
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