Play of Shadows

2.9: Oasis

The sun was a red disk carved in the arch of a stone sky. It traveled with the players, keeping just above their heads as they shuffled single-file over mounds of shifting sand. The desert stretched as far as they could see. The horizon curved into itself, sky and earth meeting in a pale haze.

"Where did that damn cat go?" Frances rasped.

The black cat led them into the exhibit. It kept its distance, but remained in sight until the last player was well into the sand. Then the little beast bounded off, too quick to follow, leaving the players to chase after a scatter of pawprints and, if they were quick enough, the whip of its tail.

The players were still in the Gallery. There was no sky above them and the bleary horizon was likely but paint on the exhibit's walls. Nonetheless, the sand and desert heat were very much real. Wind rolled over the landscape. It filled their footsteps and erased the trail of their furry guide.

"Somewhere cooler, I'd bet. Cats are creatures of comfort," Michael said lightly. "We are likely not meant to follow its lead further."

Frances grunted in reply. He scanned the sloping dune they were scaling for any sign of a depression, then waved for the group to stop. "I'll scout ahead. You figure out a plan."

"Don't go too far, or you might lose your way," Michael reminded.

Frances waved a hand in acknowledgement. He was no stranger to adventures in rough terrain, having grown up chasing after his father in some of the most perilous places Earth had to offer. The dangers of the desert were known to him – but they were not in the desert at all, and were meant to meet whatever horrors Cicada Manor had in store no matter how safe they played their hand.

So Frances didn't bother. He climbed up a steep dune, planting his feet deep into the sand. A great valley stretched before him, stone arches and statues and jewels catching the light as the wind swept through in rolling waves. Had Frances not known it to be a work of fiction, the sight would have sent his blood quickening with the thrill of diving into the unknown. He still couldn't help a sharp inhale of breath nor the startled smile that stole over his lips.

"The old man will be pissed," he said, without an ounce of anger.

Frances joined the rescue efforts as a private citizen under his own merits. Even so, he could hardly shed his identity as the heir of INFINITE, a conglomerate business empire with a high stake in the gaming market. He would not deny his father a full account of his observations – not when INFINITE fared so poorly in comparison.

A glimmer caught Fances' attention. It was neither gold nor gems, but something far more precious in the depths of the desert – water. A pond in the shape of an eye ringed by reeds and tall, rugged palm trees. Frances narrowed his eyes when he spotted a familiar black cat lounging in the shade.

"There's an oasis, due north," he told Michael as he rejoined the group.

A few of the players startled, having missed Frances' descent and subsequent approach from behind as they hunkered around something in the sand. Frances slowed down briefly upon catching sight of bleached bones, then quickened his steps.

"What happened?" he asked, joining Michael at the head of the unearthed grave.

"Good timing. We just found them," Michael said.

Frances crouched, using his hands to clear the sand. There was indeed more than one body. Most of the bones were badly crushed, but the skulls remained intact – three of them, smiling widely up at the players, their hollow eyes filled with dirt.

"How?" Frances asked.

"He tripped over one of them," Danny said. The girl with the bleached hair shushed him, but the boy only grinned, unrepentant.