The sun rose red over the dunes, bleeding across the sky like an open wound. It should have felt beautiful, the dawn breaking over the endless sands. Instead, it felt wrong, the warmth carrying an edge of something sharp and unsettling. The easy banter from the day before had vanished, replaced by a heavy silence that clung tighter than the morning chill.

  Kaelen led the way, his earlier confidence tempered by the memory of the sand trap and Seyva’s casual display of paralyzing magic. He kept his pace steady, but his eyes scanned the horizon, searching for… he wasn’t sure what. Something felt different today. The air was too still, the silence too profound.

  Seyva walked beside him, quiet, her usual book tucked away in her satchel. Her gaze was sharp, analytical, sweeping over the landscape as if reading subtle signs Kaelen couldn’t see. Asarek followed behind, a silent bulwark, his gaze constantly moving, scanning the dunes, the sky, the path ahead.

  Normally, these routes saw traffic – traders heading towards distant oases, Ignari patrols on their sweeps, couriers racing between tribal hubs. Today, there was nothing. No tracks but their own marred the sand. No distant dust plumes signaled other travelers. The desert felt empty, abandoned.

  Kaelen exhaled through his nose, the silence grating on his nerves. “Alright, this is depressing,” he finally broke the quiet. “Someone say something.”

  Silence answered him. Asarek didn’t even glance his way.

  Seyva hummed thoughtfully, adjusting her pack. "I was just wondering something, actually."

  Kaelen seized on it. "Finally. Go on."

  She tilted her head slightly. "If you die in the desert, do you think the sand just buries you, or does it leave you out for the scavengers?"

  Kaelen groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "That’s what you open with? Seriously?"

  Seyva shrugged, though her eyes remained watchful. "It’s relevant, isn't it? Considering."

  Asarek offered a brief, humorless smirk that faded almost instantly. "Honestly? Probably left out."

  The attempt at levity fell flat, swallowed by the oppressive stillness. Kaelen felt it too, that same unease coiling in his gut. Something was wrong.

  By midday, the feeling solidified into stark reality.

  Kaelen saw it first – a dark shape rising against the shimmering heat haze, too structured to be rock, too broken to be whole. He slowed his pace, squinting, his hand unconsciously drifting towards the fire coiled within him. Then he saw the rest – the burned-out husks of low stone buildings, half-buried in drifting sand, their walls blackened and collapsed. The desert was slowly reclaiming the wreckage, trying to erase the scar, but the violence lingered.

  He stopped walking, a knot tightening in his stomach. Asarek came up beside him, his expression hardening as he took in the ruins. Seyva moved past them both, her usual scholarly caution replaced by a grim focus.

  "This was an outpost," Asarek murmured, his voice low, running a gauntleted hand over a warped, half-melted metal plate protruding from the sand.

  "Not just an outpost," Seyva said, her voice tight. She pointed towards the ground near the largest collapsed structure. "They tried to hold it. Look."

  Kaelen followed her gaze. Protective glyphs, Ignari warding symbols, were burned deep into the sand and scorched onto fragments of stone. Some were faded, almost erased by the wind, but others remained starkly visible, their edges charred black. A last stand. A failed one.

  He swallowed hard, the desert heat suddenly feeling cold against his skin. He’d heard stories from the southern front, whispers of outposts overrun, of desperate defenses shattered by Malkorax’s hordes. He’d seen maps marked with warnings. But standing here, amidst the tangible wreckage where Ignari soldiers – his people – had fought and died… it was different. The abstract weight of war became sickeningly real.

  "How long ago?" Asarek asked, his voice rough.

  Seyva knelt, running her fingers carefully over the edge of a charred glyph, her touch surprisingly gentle. "Weeks," she murmured, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Maybe less. The magic’s residue is faint, but the ash… it hasn't fully settled."

  Weeks. Kaelen clenched his jaw. That meant the demons, Malkorax’s forces, were moving faster, pushing further north than the elders believed, or perhaps, than they wanted to admit. The front wasn't just collapsing; it was being devoured.

  Seyva brushed her hand over something else half-buried near the glyphs – the hilt of a broken blade, its metal scorched and twisted, the grip cracked. She didn’t pick it up.

  "We should move on," Asarek said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, but his grip on the hammer strapped to his back was white-knuckled.

  Kaelen nodded numbly, tearing his gaze away from the ruins. They left the silence of the fallen outpost behind them, but the weight of it, the cold reality of the war they were running towards, settled heavily on their shoulders, chasing away the last vestiges of their earlier high spirits.

  The fire crackled low, its small flames doing little to push back the vast darkness of the desert night or the chill that had settled deep in Kaelen’s bones. They had made camp miles away from the ruined outpost, none of them willing to sleep near the ghosts of that failed last stand.

  Kaelen sat with his elbows on his knees, staring into the flickering embers, the image of the scorched glyphs burned behind his eyelids. The easy banter of the previous night felt like a distant memory, replaced by a heavy, unspoken tension.

  "Quiet night," he tried, the words feeling hollow.

  Seyva didn’t look up from the book she held but hadn’t actually read since sunset, merely cleaning dust from its pages with meticulous, unnecessary care. Asarek sat slightly apart, sharpening his hammer’s edge with slow, deliberate strokes – not because it needed honing, Kaelen knew, but because the familiar ritual offered some small comfort, a sense of control in a situation rapidly spiraling beyond it.

  "Yeah," Asarek muttered eventually, the sound rough.

  Kaelen exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. He hated this quiet. Hated the doubt creeping in at the edges of his resolve. "Alright," he said, forcing himself to sit straighter, injecting false brightness into his tone. "I know today wasn’t exactly inspiring—"

  "We walked through a graveyard, Kaelen," Seyva interrupted flatly, her gaze still fixed on her book.

  He hesitated. She wasn't wrong. "Yeah," he admitted quietly. "But we knew what we were getting into, right? War isn't new. We've lived under its shadow."

  "Seeing it is different," Seyva replied, her voice barely a whisper. "Feeling it."

  The silence stretched again, thicker this time.

  "Do you think we’re doing the right thing?" Asarek asked suddenly, the question dropping into the quiet like a stone. He finally stopped sharpening his hammer, looking across the fire at Kaelen.

  Kaelen met his gaze. He saw the doubt there, the weariness that went deeper than just physical exhaustion. "I mean, I know why we’re going," Asarek continued, his voice low. "But… do you really think the Wolf King is the answer? After seeing… that?" He gestured vaguely back towards the direction of the ruins.

  The question resonated with the unease coiling in Kaelen’s own gut. He had pushed past the council's fear, pushed past Seyva's logic, pushed past Asarek's pragmatism, fueled by his own certainty, his own fire. But standing here, with the image of that ruined outpost fresh in his mind, with the silence of his friends pressing in… was his certainty enough? Was the legend anything more than a desperate hope?

  He didn't know.

  But he couldn't show that. Not now. They needed his confidence, even if it was brittle.

  Kaelen forced a smirk, leaning back casually. "Of course I do. You think I’d drag you two invaluable assets all the way out here if I wasn’t sure?"

  Seyva glanced up briefly, her expression unreadable in the flickering firelight, before returning her attention to her book. "Sure, Kaelen," she said, her tone flat, making it clear she didn’t believe him for a second.

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  Asarek let out a breath, shaking his head slowly. “I just—” He stopped, scrubbing a hand over his face, the usual steady confidence fraying at the edges.

  "You just what?" Kaelen pressed gently, recognizing the rare crack in his friend's stoic armor.

  Asarek hesitated, then looked up, his eyes shadowed. “I just don’t want this to be another lost cause,” he muttered, the words barely audible above the crackling fire.

  Kaelen blinked. That was it. Asarek wasn't afraid of the Eldergloom, or the legends, or defying the elders. He was afraid of failure. Afraid of hope turning sour. Afraid that their desperate gamble would mean nothing in the face of the overwhelming tide threatening to consume them all.

  Kaelen took a slow breath, the fire within him settling, burning low and steady for a moment. "It’s not," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

  "How do you know?" Asarek challenged, leaning forward slightly. "What if we get there and the Wolf King refuses? What if he is just a monster, like the elders say? What if he’s just dust? We’re wasting time out here, Kaelen, while the front collapses!"

  Kaelen didn’t answer immediately. He let the silence hang, then slowly, a genuine grin spread across his face, chasing away some of the shadows.

  "Damn, Asarek, I didn’t realize you were the worrier in the group," he teased, trying to lighten the mood. "Here I thought that was Seyva’s job."

  Seyva sniffed disdainfully without looking up. "Don’t lump me in with your existential crisis. I’m processing tactical data."

  Asarek huffed, though the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. "Kaelen, I’m serious."

  "So am I," Kaelen said, leaning forward again, his eyes meeting Asarek's across the fire. "Listen. You’re right—we don’t know what we’re walking into. It could be a disaster. But do you really think I’d go through all the trouble of pissing off the entire council, sneaking out like thieves in the night, dragging my two best friends on this insane mission, just for us to fail?" He spread his hands. "Failure isn't in the plan."

  Asarek stared at him for a long moment, then slowly shook his head, a reluctant smile touching his lips. That was Kaelen. Arrogant, reckless, infuriatingly confident, even when facing the impossible. "You're unbelievable."

  Kaelen stretched, leaning back on his hands, his voice softening slightly. "Besides," he added, his gaze sweeping over Asarek, then Seyva. "If we don’t do this, who will?"

  Asarek didn’t have an answer. Seyva didn’t offer one, still focused intently on her book, though Kaelen suspected she was listening to every word.

  The fire crackled between them, a small point of warmth against the vast, cold desert night. None of them slept easily, the weight of the ruined outpost and the uncertainty of their path settling deep in their bones.

  The land changed again the next day. The cracked earth and sparse ruins gave way to something stranger. Jagged rock formations rose like broken teeth from the barren ground, their surfaces worn unnaturally smooth, as if scoured by winds carrying something harsher than sand. The dunes had vanished completely, replaced by this desolate, rocky expanse under a sky that felt too close, too pale.

  "You know," Kaelen said, kicking a loose stone, the sound echoing oddly in the stillness, "I was expecting more excitement on this legendary journey. Maybe some monsters? A dramatic sandstorm?"

  Seyva, walking several paces ahead, didn't turn. "Give it time."

  Asarek muttered, "Be careful what you wish for."

  Kaelen sighed dramatically. "What, are we just going to sulk all day? The least we could do is—"

  "I think we’re being followed." Seyva stopped abruptly, her head tilted slightly, listening to something Kaelen couldn't hear.

  He stopped mid-step. "Come again?"

  She finally glanced back, her expression serious. "I don’t mean footprints. But there’s something… off. I noticed it last night, with the stars. It’s stronger now."

  Kaelen frowned, scanning the empty landscape. Nothing. Just rocks and heat haze. "Alright, Professor, what exactly is ‘off’?"

  Seyva was quiet for a moment, concentrating. Then she shook her head, frustration flickering in her eyes. "I don’t know. That's the problem. When I try to focus on it, I can’t grasp it. It’s like… a presence just out of reach. Watching."

  Kaelen huffed, though a prickle of unease traced its way down his spine. "You’re starting to sound like one of those Sunvein mystics."

  Seyva raised a brow, unimpressed. "And you’re starting to sound like someone who doesn’t listen when the scholar tells him something feels fundamentally wrong with reality."

  Kaelen groaned, rubbing his face. "Fine. If we are being watched by some invisible… whatever… don’t you think we’d see something? Tracks, shadows, anything?"

  "Not everything leaves footprints," Seyva murmured, turning back to the path, her hand drifting towards the satchel holding her runes.

  Kaelen blinked at her back, the cryptic words settling uncomfortably in his gut. "Fantastic. Glad we’re working with riddles now."

  She didn’t elaborate, just kept walking, her pace quickening almost imperceptibly.

  They walked for hours under the oppressive sky. The sun beat down, reflecting harshly off the pale rock. Kaelen tried to dismiss Seyva's feeling, tried to focus on the path ahead, but the sense of wrongness lingered. He found himself scanning the shadows among the rocks, listening for sounds that weren’t there.

  He noticed Asarek was doing the same. The big warrior moved with a heightened awareness, his gaze constantly sweeping their surroundings, his hand never straying far from his hammer.

  "You’re looking around a lot," Kaelen commented after Asarek paused for the third time to survey a ridge line.

  Asarek didn’t answer immediately, his eyes narrowed. Finally, he said, "We should stay close together."

  "We already are," Kaelen pointed out, gesturing to the mere feet separating them.

  "Closer," Asarek repeated, his voice tight.

  Seyva gave Kaelen a brief, knowing look over her shoulder. See?

  Kaelen exhaled sharply through his nose. "You too, huh? Feeling watched?"

  "I don’t like coincidences," Asarek muttered, his gaze returning to the path ahead. "And I don't like this silence."

  Neither did Kaelen. The road ahead stretched endlessly through the strange rock formations, but it no longer felt open. It felt like a corridor. And they weren't alone in it.

  The fire burned wrong.

  Kaelen noticed it immediately after setting their camp that night in the shelter of a shallow overhang. He had lit it like always, coaxing flame from the dry scrub Asarek had gathered. The embers crackled, the flames danced—

  And then, for a heartbeat, they flickered blue. Cold, unnatural blue.

  They snapped back to orange-gold almost instantly, but the image lingered.

  Seyva, sitting nearby organizing her rune parchments, went utterly still. Her head lifted slowly, her sharp eyes fixed on the flames. "Kaelen." Her voice was quiet, dangerously calm.

  His fingers twitched. "Yeah, yeah, I saw it."

  Then it happened again. Longer this time. The edges of the flames turned a deep, chilling blue, casting strange shadows that seemed to writhe independently of the fire itself. Kaelen focused, pushing his will into the flames, asserting control. He wasn't losing it. He wasn't. But something else was pressing against his magic, cold and insistent.

  "That’s not normal," Seyva stated, her voice flat.

  Kaelen exhaled sharply. "Could be the rock here. Minerals in the air—"

  Seyva shot him a look that could curdle milk. "You’re making excuses."

  Kaelen opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. She was right. Fire didn't just do that.

  Asarek moved suddenly. Not a large movement, just a tensing of his shoulders, a slight shift in his stance. Sand and grit stirred around his boots, lifting and swirling slightly without any command Kaelen could sense. A purely defensive reflex.

  "What?" Kaelen asked, his voice dropping, turning instinctively towards where Asarek was looking – out into the darkness beyond the firelight.

  Asarek didn’t answer immediately. His gaze was fixed, his breathing slow and deliberate. "Listen," he said finally, his voice a low rumble.

  Kaelen frowned, straining his ears. At first, nothing. Just the crackle of the fire, the faint whisper of wind moving through the distant rocks. Then he heard it.

  A low murmur. On the edge of hearing. Not wind. Not an animal. It rose and fell like a slow, vast breath drawn from the heart of the desert night.

  Kaelen held his own breath. The sound wasn't getting louder, but it felt... closer. Like whatever made it was immense, encompassing them.

  The sand around Asarek’s feet shifted again, a visible ripple spreading outwards. The earth itself felt tense.

  The sound faded, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier, more watchful than before.

  Kaelen let out his breath slowly. The fire flickered again. And this time, its shadow leaped on the rock wall in the wrong direction, defying the light.

  No one spoke. But the same thought echoed between them, cold and certain.

  They were not alone.