"We're so close, why are we stopping here?" The young Miqo'te glared at her companion, an Elezen adventurer she had begun following days ago, hoping to see some excitement. So far, all she had seen were rocks.

"Surely you've heard of the Sands of Ul'dah."

The Miqo'te picked a handful of coarse sand off the ground. "The city is in the middle of a desert, of course there's sand."

The Elezen leaned toward the fire. Frustrated, the Miqo'te began packing. She had come so far from home and was this close to the richest city in Eorzea. If this man wouldn't even let her get near it, she'd find someone else to follow.
"Perhaps you’ve heard about the coliseum.”

She scowled at him, shoving her things into the pack. If she hurried, she could get into the city before nightfall.

"It's what calls most people to the city. The chance to show their strength, win riches, become famous. The truth, though, is that more people meet their end there than find new beginnings."

The Elezen paused to rub the scar on his arm. The Miqo'te caught herself staring. Would she finally hear something of this man's experiences?

"What most people don't know is that Ul'dah was built around the coliseum. Its circular design mimics the arena floor. That city has violence at its core, far deeper than gold." He stopped and took a swallow of water. The Miqo'te was sure there was more and did her best to keep herself quiet.

Eventually the Elezen turned to her, obviously surprised that she possessed such patience. The Miqo'te growled at him, but he raised a hand for peace and continued. "These days, those who lose are carried off to the priests, and their blood is swept under the sands. In the early days, though, the sand covered more than just blood. In those days, fights always ended in death, and the bodies were left where they fell. The sands scoured them from existence. It was like that for decades, before the wealthy made the city their home. But those bodies are still entombed under the walls and streets of Ul'dah."

"Still, it's no reason to avoid a bed and a full meal.” The Miqo'te shivered. “Those old bones can’t reach up and get you." She turned to the skyline in the distance, feeling colder than she should have.

"Not until the priests moved in."

The Miqo'te turned her head back toward the Elezen, her ears laid back and hackles raised.

"The priests say they came because of what was happening, but everybody knows that nothing strange occured until after they started practicing their rituals in the city."

"What... kind of strange things?"

"When the Nald'Thal rituals begin, a red fog rises. Their death magic escapes the monastery and the blood soaked sand foundation of Ul’dah fills the air. Those trapped inside hear weapons clashing. Those who breathe it in become possessed by ancient souls raging to redeem their arena losses. Some run off, others go into a frenzy. But the strangest thing is that the sands don't harm the weak. The sands take only those who are strong and able to fight. And," he said, pointing at the giant red moon, "that won’t make things any better."

The Elezen trailed off. The Miqo'te, pale and shivering, brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms and tail tightly around herself. A sudden movement at the edge of the fire caught her attention, and she shrieked, startling her companion back to himself.

"It doesn't happen every night, of course. Only the priests know what dark schedules they keep. You might be fine. You're able enough, sure, but you don't have the experience the spirits want. Me, though...

“Get some sleep; we'll go in with the sun when there isn't as much danger."

The Elezen laid back and shut his eyes. The Miqo'te girl, her terror not at all abated, pulled a blanket from her pack and sat closer to the fire. As the sun sank below the horizon, she knew there would be no chance of a bed or a meal this night. There would be little enough chance for sleep.