There is earth, red and wounded. Deserts spread wings to either side, red and umber, gold, bleeding. Landis is steppe and salt, sand and seething. A river - a bloom of green. All is familiar. Noah turns instinctively at a call of a forgotten name. The sky cracks. He cracks; he looks down. With disinterest he notes his knuckles have cracked. They are young knuckles. The cracks spread, his skin is dust, burning. Like a lizard, his skin must slough, but it can not. The dryness festers. Noah cannot shed. A voice calls him, two names at once. 'I am one half of a whole'. When he looks up his brother is standing. He stares at the sun. To the East. Noah looks North. His profile is their father's, and young. Blonde hair trails in the breath of the wind as he turns, smiling. A brother's smile, open and closed, wise and innocent - sad and loving. Basch's face is in halves. One is his, theirs, another is raw and bloody, the mouth of a monster. Gold locks curl in a bloodied rictus; bone shows. Teeth show through a red maw stained with shared blood. As he reaches the cracks of the sky fall in and pull, into the depths of hollow eyes. The sand screams, high and empty.
'I am one half of a whole.'