The next day arrived with the desert's unrelenting grip tightening around them. The sun had already begun its slow ascent, its golden light spilling over the endless dunes.

The night before, they sought shelter beneath a jagged outcrop of rock, its shadow offering meagre protection from the cold embrace of the desert night. The ground beneath them was uneven but exhaustion dulled their discomfort. The fire had long since dwindled to glowing embers. Varelor had lain awake long after the others, his mind restless as he listened to the distant wails of unseen creatures carried by the wind.

"I will not bother you again, Alfira," he had muttered. "I might just be a burden between you and my brother, and I do not wish for such a thing to happen."

By morning, the sun turned the sand into a sea of fire. It was only by fortune--and careful rationing--that they still had enough food and water to last a few more days.

As they pressed ever onward, the land shifted once more beneath their weary steps. The desert's blazing heart faded into a realm of ghostly silence, where the golden dunes gave way to sweeping hills of pale, frost-laced sand. No longer did the earth burn beneath their feet; here, the cold held dominion. The wind howled through unseen chasms, carving patterns upon the snow-dusted dunes, setting them in motion like restless waves upon a frozen sea.

Then, at last, they came upon a fork in the road. Two paths stretched before them, veiled in uncertainty.

To the right, the land rose into jagged cliffs, their dark silhouettes stark against the pale sky. The path wound through them yet offering some measure of shelter from the relentless wind. To the left, the desert stretched unbroken--an expanse of snow-cloaked silence yet beneath its stillness lurked dangers unseen.

Varelor exhaled, breath curling in the frigid air.

"The right path seems the wiser choice," he said at last, though his gaze remained fixed ahead, unwilling to meet Alfira's. She, too, did not look his way.

Livian strode forward.

"We take the quicker route," he declared.

"What?" His companions spoke in unison, their disbelief plain.

"We've already conquered treacherous paths. Why not one more?" Livian turned to face them, his grin unfaltering despite the cold. "Besides, who else has walked the Sepphoran Forest and lived to tell the tale?"

Varelor's jaw tightened. "Fool's bravado will not shield us from the dangers ahead."

"And yet," Livian countered, "caution alone will not bring us to our goal before it is too late, brother mine."

Alfira tightened her grip upon the strap of her leather pack, her gaze dark with doubt. "Are you certain of that? Or is it merely your recklessness speaking? Do you truly wish to see us perish upon these cursed sands?"

Livian cast a sidelong glance at his brother, a glimmer of challenge in his eyes. "Well, dear brother? Shall we take the winding road of safety, or the swift path of folly?" He arched a brow, his smirk betraying his intent.

Varelor hesitated, his gaze drawn to the horizon. The cold expanse stretched before them, silent as a graveyard beneath the stars. Yet he knew his brother well enough--Livian had chosen his course, and no words would turn him from it. To argue would be to widen the rift already forming between them.

With a quiet nod, he stepped forward.

Livian's smirk deepened. "Even my brother agrees."

Alfira exhaled sharply, shaking her head.

"Are you certain of that?" she muttered under her breath. But Varelor had heard her, and though he said nothing, her words lingered inside his mind.

Livian chuckled. "I had thought you mentioned that you are the bravest of us three, Alfira. Have I been mistaken?"

She rolled her eyes but held her tongue, unwilling to waste breath on his taunts.

"Come now," Livian called over his shoulder, striding forth with the easy confidence of one who feared nothing. "We must press on, lest the sun set upon our hesitation."

With little choice left to them, they followed.

The wind howled across the barren expanse with its icy fingers scraping against their flesh. Each step they took grew more laborious, the very earth beneath their feet treacherous. It seemed to be shifting as though it had a mind of its own. The deeper they journeyed into the desolate land, the heavier the silence pressed upon them.

And then, a change.

It came, at first, as little more than a whisper-a faint rustle carried upon the cruel breath of the gale. A sound so subtle it might have been mistaken for the wind itself, had it not lingered, growing ever so slightly in strength.

"Can you hear it?" Varelor whispered.

Livian scoffed. "If I start listening to every suspicious rustle in the dark, I'll be jumping at my own footsteps next. Or worse--yours."

Varelor exhaled, nodding. "Fair point."

But the sound remained. Rustling, but not of leaves or earth. It slithered through the air as though it did not belong to the world they knew. It was persistent, like a secret murmured in the dark, a voice that refused to be ignored.

"I-- I do not think that was merely the wind," Varelor murmured, his voice lower now with his unease creeping into his tone.

Livian chuckled, though there was no real mirth in it.

"Var, you are frightened," he teased, casting him a sidelong glance. "Which, I must say, is rather endearing."

Varelor exhaled sharply but did not reply. His steps slowed, a heaviness pressing down upon him like an unseen specter tightening its grip around his chest. Ahead of them, Alfira, too, had begun to falter, her pace slowing as though she, too, felt the weight of the air grow dense, oppressive.

Shadows wavered at the edges of sight. Not mere tricks of the shifting dunes, but something more sinister--forms flickering into being only to vanish a heartbeat later.

Then--a change.

A figure emerged from the mist, blurred and indistinct. A chill radiated from it gnawing through flesh and cloth alike. It did not move, not truly. It simply was. And its existence alone was enough to make the world feel smaller.

They stood frozen, hearts hammering against their ribs. The thing did nothing--said nothing. Yet its presence pressed upon them, suffocating.

Then the shadows moved.

Not as drifting sand or shifting light, but with intent. They slithered, creeping at the edges of sight, twisting, crawling.

Livian moved first. A hand to his hilt, a sharp breath, and then steel rasped free of its scabbard.

A breath later, the darkness lunged.

The creatures that emerged were no mere beasts--they were nightmares made flesh. Black, shifting figures with hollow eyes and elongated limbs. They struck from the shadows with their movements unnatural.

What are these creatures?

Livian met them head-on, steel flashing as he cut through the dark skin of the creatures. Yet for every shadow that fell, another rose in its place, shifting and reforming, unbound by flesh or bone.

Varelor moved with an arrow already nocked before the first had struck its mark. He exhaled loosing the shaft. It flew true, piercing the wraith-like form before it could lunge. No cry escaped the creature--only a shudder, a flicker, and then it was gone. He did not pause. Another arrow, another target. Each strike forced them back, but they were endless, shifting like the tide, pressing ever closer.

Alfira moved with the grace of a shadow herself, her dagger striking its enemies.

"By the gods..." Varelor muttered. His heart pounded like the drums of war, drowning out all but the battle's chaos. He nocked another arrow, and with a swift motion, loosed it into the creatures.

It was then that Livian's overconfidence cost him.

One of the wraiths darted in swiftly with its form coiling around him like a serpent. Before Livian could react, cold fingers-much like ice-gripped his throat, pulling him into the suffocating dark. His sword clattered to the ground, his eyes closing slowly.

"Livian!" Varelor's voice rang out, his heart lurching as he saw his brother's struggle. With a sharp motion, Varelor loosed an arrow, but the shadows were too thick, too swift. His shot missed.

Alfira lunged towards Livian, but the darkness thickened with each passing moment, pulling them further apart. Livian gasped for breath, his body writhing as the darkness wrapped tighter around him.

I have to act. But what shall I do? I couldn't afford to lose Livian.

Varelor's stomach twisted, the old fear clawing its way to the surface.

He can't die.

With a snarl, Varelor tossed aside the bow, his hand wrapping around his brother's sword as he surged forward.

"Stay away from him!" he growled. His blade cleaved through the nearest shadow, the wraith's form disintegrating into nothingness with a shriek. Another appeared, lunging at him, but Varelor was quicker, his sword cutting down with brutal force that severed the shadow's formless body in two.

Livian staggered back, coughing raggedly as he tried to straighten.

"I'm fine," he forced out, though the words trembled with pain.

Varelor's eyes narrowed as he watched his brother, his gaze hardening.

"You're bleeding," he snapped, his sword carving through another approaching wraith before it could get any closer.

"I've had worse," Livian replied, gritting his teeth, but the weakness in the way he stood said otherwise.

Varelor's jaw clenched, his frustration boiling over.

"You're a fool," he muttered, cutting down another shadow with a violent swing.

"Fall back!" Livian commanded, taking his sword from his brother's grasp.

Alfira moved swiftly, pulling Varelor's bow out of reach and guiding their companions away from the thick of the battle. Livian, though hiding his weakness, swung his sword in wide arcs, clearing a path and ensuring no shadow ventured too close as they fell back. The creatures made no further move. Instead, they melted into the gloom, as if their task was done.

Silence descended upon them, broken only by the harsh rasp of Livian's breath.

Varelor spun to face his brother as Livian, his hand trembling, finally released his sword--though it was involuntary this time.

"Reckless," Varelor muttered. "You led us into this, and this is the price we pay."

Livian, though clearly in pain, pressed a hand to his wound.

"We survived, didn't we?" he countered with a grin.

Varelor exhaled sharply, his temper bubbling beneath the surface. "Barely."

He pulled a strip of cloth from his pack, his hands steady as he knelt beside Livian. There was no tenderness in his touch, only necessity.

"This is not about the fight," he said, voice quieter now. "I trusted you because I thought you knew what you were doing. But instead, you just wanted a challenge. You're not invincible, Liv."

Livian didn't respond immediately. For once, the arrogance was gone.

Varelor shook his head. "You're my brother. Do you think I can just--"

He stopped himself, the words catching in his throat. Instead, he focused on tying the bandage. "Next time, listen. And stop being irrational and boastful."

Livian's gaze softened, but he only nodded.

They pressed on in silence.

❥๑━

Hours later, the trio found themselves stumbling through the barren expanse, their bodies weary and eyes heavy. But in the distance, something strange caught Varelor's eye--a dark silhouette, rising from the sand.

Ruins loomed before them with their stone pillars, once mighty, now crumbling beneath time. Half-buried in the icy dunes, they seemed to defy the cold, yet the years had not been kind, and only the faintest vestiges of grandeur lingered. Strange, intricate symbols--spirals and glyphs--clung to the stones.

Varelor came to a halt, his gaze fixed upon the darkened entrance. His fingers reached for the stone, the touch faint, yet something triggered. A shudder coursed through him. A peculiar presence seemed to linger, watching.

This place... The symbols...

His thoughts scattered, desperately clutching at the map he had studied.

Could this truly be the fallen city? The question seized him as his hand moved instinctively to the map within his bag. His pulse quickened.

Alfira stepped forward, her gaze sharp as it traced the ancient structures. "It's tied to the Wind Scepter. I can feel it," she murmured, her brow furrowing in thought.

Livian, despite the pain still clinging to him, straightened.

"Then perhaps this land will offer the aid we seek," he said.

"Stay sharp," said Varelor.

Livian nodded. "I will."