Sahara

Desires of the Old: Connections

Three months of quiet and peace had passed since my friendly fight with D'Taro. The story of our duel had become a favorite topic of conversation among the townsfolk, with each retelling adding new layers of exaggeration and awe. I often caught snippets of these tales during my walks through the marketplace or while mingling at court gatherings. It amused me to hear how my victory had taken on a legendary quality, even if the reality was far less grand.

One night, as the moon cast its silver light over my chambers, I lay awake, my mind restless. Emira slept soundly beside me, her breathing steady and calm. The room was still, save for the gentle rustling of the curtains in the faint breeze. But there was something in the air tonight, a subtle disturbance that pricked at my senses.

I sat up, my eyes narrowing as I scanned the room. Emira stirred beside me, her eyelids fluttering open. "Finrah?" she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep.

"Go back to sleep, Emira," I whispered, my tone gentle but firm. "I just need to check something."

She nodded groggily, her eyes closing again as she drifted back into slumber. I slipped out of bed, my movements fluid and silent. The unease in the air was growing stronger, a whisper of danger that I couldn't ignore. With a deep breath, I allowed my body to relax, feeling the familiar shift as I transformed. My form became insubstantial, a cloud of sand that glided through the air with ease.

I moved swiftly through the palace, my particles slipping through cracks and under doors until I reached the watchtower. There, Eric, one of my father's most trusted generals, stood vigilant. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a stern countenance, his years of service etched into his weathered face. He had already been alerted by the scouts, his eyes scanning the horizon with a mixture of concern and determination.

I materialized beside him, my sudden appearance causing him to startle slightly. "Shiekha," he greeted, his voice low and respectful. "You have a knack for appearing out of thin air."

I smiled, though my mind was focused on the task at hand. "What have the scouts seen, Eric?"

He gestured towards the distance, where faint glimmers of light flickered against the dark expanse of the desert. "A small group of scouts, Shiekha. They've been spotted trying to close in on Avazi'pat. Just a handful, maybe five."

I nodded, my mind racing with possibilities. "I'll handle them. We can't risk them getting any closer."

Eric inclined his head. "As you command, Maya Shiekha."

I transformed once more, my body dissolving into a stream of sand that flowed out of the watchtower and across the desert. The night was still, the silence broken only by the whisper of the wind. As I approached the scouts, I slowed, my particles spreading out to cloak me in near invisibility.

From my vantage point, I could see the five scouts more clearly. They moved cautiously, their eyes scanning the sand-wall ahead. They were too organized to be mere bandits, their disciplined movements suggesting a trained unit. My heart quickened as I recognized the insignia on their banners – the mark of the Western Empire.

There were five of them, moving cautiously towards Avazi'pat. I could see their leather armor and the crests on their helmets, marking them as Hrothgarian soldiers. I wasted no time. With a thought, I commanded the sand to rise around them. Two of them were swiftly enveloped, their muffled screams lost in the night as they were sucked into the dunes.

The remaining three turned in panic, but I was already upon them. I focused on the nearest one, forming a sand spear and thrusting it through his heart. The second soldier met a similar fate, his body crumpling silently to the ground. The last one, his eyes wide with terror, found himself immobilized as I formed a massive hand from the sand, gripping him tightly and covering his mouth to stifle any sound.