The journey back from my outpost to my main base was routine, a familiar trek across the crimson dunes. I had spent weeks at the new outpost, scouting and securing the territory, and it was time to return for supplies. In my mind, I thought of the filtered water, the stronger shelter, the small comforts I kept there. I thought of home.

As I crested the final dune, the one from which my base should have been visible, my heart went cold. The familiar silhouette against the sky was gone.

There was nothing. Nothing but the sand and the wind, as if my home had never existed.

For a moment, I refused to believe it. My navigation had to be wrong. But the rock formations were the same; this was the place. I approached the site slowly, a knot of dread tightening in my gut. At first, I blamed the desert. A freak storm, I thought, or the shifting of the deep sands. But the ruin told a different story.

It wasn't a crater. The structure hadn't been blown apart; it had been consumed. Scoured and half-swallowed by the sand, it looked like the carcass of some great animal gnawed down to the bone. As I walked through the wreckage, I searched for the cause, but I found nothing.

It took me some time, sifting through the ruin, to understand what had happened. The realization came when I found it: the master shield emitter. It was silent and cold. It hadn't been shattered by wind or sand; its core had been precisely and cleanly disabled from within. An electronic kill switch.

And in that moment, the terrible truth fell into place. There had been no warning, no signal to my outpost, because the silence was the message.

The Empire hadn’t sent ships or bombs. They had flipped a switch from orbit, turning off my protection and leaving my home helpless. They had sentenced it to death and let Arrakis serve as the executioner, all without a sound. They didn't just punish me for my insolence; they demonstrated how effortlessly they could erase me, how little I mattered. A ghost receives no notification of its own exorcism.

I now understand. The greatest threats do not always announce themselves with a roar. Sometimes they come as a quiet act of betrayal from a power you depend on. To survive, I must not only be a ghost to the Empire's patrols, but to its technology as well. I must sever every tie, every dependency. What is given by an empire can always be taken away, and next time, I might be inside when the shield goes dark.

There was nothing left for me there but ghosts and sand.

But before I turned my back on the wreckage for the last time, I paused. I laid a hand on the cracked foundational stone that had sheltered me and touched the hardy leaf of a desert plant that had given me its water. I thanked them both, quietly, as you would thank old friends before moving away forever. Then, I began the long, quiet journey back to my outpost at Jabal Eifrit Al-janub. It is no longer just an outpost; by necessity, it is now my home. Standing where my life's work had been, seeing how easily it was unwritten from the world, I finally understood a deepest truth of Arrakis.

Everything here is ephemeral. The shelters we build, the paths we walk, our very lives—they are all temporary marks on a canvas that is constantly being wiped clean. To survive is to accept this truth, and to live is to make your mark anyway, knowing the wind will one day come for it.

Project by Ninaiemeyer ( @nina )

#DuneAwakening

Every sun-scorched afternoon, I push deeper into Arrakis, and every day, it pushes back. Nothing is ever easy here. The wind itself is a thief, stealing moisture from your skin and warmth from your fire. The silence is so heavy it rings in your ears, a constant reminder of how utterly alone you are. You learn these truths fast, or the desert claims you.


My first and deepest lesson, though, came from Shai-Hulud. You can’t truly comprehend this world until you’ve stood paralyzed on the sand and watched the horizon itself rise up to swallow the sun. It is a sight that burns away all arrogance.


That encounter taught me more than fear. It taught me respect. A profound respect for the sand, for the crushing power it hides, and for the masters that rule its depths. You stop trying to fight the desert and you start to listen to it—to the rhythm of the wind, the shift of the dunes, the tell-tale whispers that warn of movement below.


It is with that respect in mind that I have made my decision. I am building an outpost. It is a single, solid point in a world of endless, flowing chaos. A place to anchor myself deeper in this land, not as a conqueror, but as a student.


I won't lie; I don't know if it's the right call. A part of me, the part that still remembers the trembling of the worm, screams that it's a fool's errand. To build something permanent here feels like a dare, a challenge issued to a god. But I am taking the risk. How else can I learn the mysteries of this place if I have no sanctuary from which to study them?


Out here, Arrakis is a teacher. It is stern, and its lessons are often paid for in blood and sweat. It teaches you how to create, how to raise walls and life from nothing but dust and determination. But I know it has another lesson it is waiting to teach: surrender it all when the time comes.


The walls are up. The shelter is sealed against the wind and the suns.


For now, I'm just hoping to have more time.


Project by Ninaiemeyer ( @nina )
#DuneAwakening

Before this place, there was a home in Hagga Basin. My first on this world. But a path laid in sand can only be walked forward, so I left it all behind with the bitter certainty that I would never return.

The journey that followed was the longest I had ever made, every step taken across the open sand. A desolate emptiness where Shai-Hulud is king. Out there, you don't just walk; you trespass. I moved as if holding my breath, feeling the silence for the slightest tremor.

And then, he came.

It began as a drumming deep in the earth, a vibration that grew until the very world shifted under my feet. He was close. So close that I was certain my story had reached its final line. But it was not my time. My path on this planet, it seemed, was not yet finished.

I finally made it to the Western Vermillion Gap. The land here is harsher, the air thinner. The sand is a deep, heavy red, as if stained with iron, and the wind has more teeth. Every day has been a fight just to endure.

But even in a place like this, there can be hope. I found it: a perfect spot, sheltered by a towering rock formation. A place to build a new home. A place, I thought, where I could finally grow something that would last.

Project by Ninaiemeyer ( @nina)
#DuneAwakening