The wind grew colder as they walked.
Even with the sun climbing higher, the dunes ahead of them shimmered with a faint grayness, as though a storm were brewing beneath the sands. The sky itself was clear … a vast sheet of pale blue … but Layla could feel it: a heaviness pressing down, the quiet hum of the desert's song now muffled and strained.
Malik's expression hardened the closer they came. He moved more carefully now, his golden eyes scanning the horizon, every muscle in his body tense as though waiting for something.
Layla kept pace beside him, clutching the shard at her neck. Its faint glow had dimmed since leaving the oasis, but she could still feel its warmth against her chest … steady, grounding.
"Something's wrong," she said softly after an hour of walking.
Malik gave a curt nod. "This is his territory now. His power stains everything here. Don't trust what you see."
She swallowed and glanced around. The dunes did seem strange … their slopes sharper, their shadows longer, and the way the sand sparkled in the light was… wrong. Almost oily.
It wasn't long before they found the ruins.
A vast stone arch rose from the sand ahead, its carvings worn smooth by centuries of wind. Beyond it stretched a crumbling avenue lined with half-buried columns, and in the center of the broken city stood what remained of a great palace … a dark silhouette against the pale desert sky.
"This was his seat of power," Malik said quietly. "Before his fall."
Layla stared. "It's still standing?"
"In part," Malik murmured. "Even broken, this place remembers him. It keeps his secrets."
They crossed the threshold of the archway. At once, the air grew colder still.
The wind stopped.
The sands stilled.
And in the silence, she thought she heard it … a faint whisper, deep and ancient, curling through the ruined streets like smoke.
Dreamer… dreamer… you've come to me at last…
Layla froze, her hand flying to the shard at her chest.
Malik glanced at her sharply. "You hear him?"
She nodded, unable to speak.
His jaw tightened. "Don't listen. His words are poison. Stay close to me."
They moved forward together, picking their way through the shattered remains of the city. The air grew heavier with each step, and the shadows lengthened around them unnaturally.
Then…
The ground split open.
The sands churned like water as black smoke poured upward, coiling into a towering figure draped in darkness. Its face was hidden behind a great bronze mask, its eyes glowing a deep, cruel red.
The Shadow Sultan.
"Ahhh…" The voice was like a thousand knives scraping stone, low and terrible. "The last of the starlit ones… and his little Dreamer."
Layla stumbled back, but Malik stepped forward, his golden eyes blazing.
"You don't belong here," he said coldly. "Go back to your prison."
The Sultan laughed … a sound that rattled the stones beneath their feet.
"This is my realm, boy. You are the one who does not belong. But I will take back what is mine… starting with her."
He pointed one long, skeletal hand toward Layla.
At once, tendrils of black smoke shot out toward her.
Malik moved faster. A brilliant golden shield flared around her as he stood between her and the Sultan, his robe whipping in the wind now swirling violently around them.
"You won't touch her," he snarled.
The Sultan hissed, and the ground cracked as more tendrils struck at them. Malik deflected them one by one, his hands glowing brighter with each blow … but already Layla could see the strain in his face, the sweat beading on his brow.
He couldn't hold him forever.
And then she heard it again … the whisper of the shard at her neck.
We can help… we can burn him… if you let us…
Her fingers tightened around the shard.
She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't even know if she could do anything. But she stepped forward anyway, her free hand pressing against Malik's back.
"I can help," she whispered.
Malik started to protest … but then he felt it too.
The shard flared white-hot in her hand, its light spilling over him, over the golden shield, over the entire ruined square.
The Shadow Sultan's laughter stopped.
He roared in fury as the light struck him, searing through his smoke and shattering the tendrils. The palace walls around them cracked and crumbled as his form wavered.
"No!" he howled, his voice rising into the storm. "This isn't over! You can't stop me … not forever…"
With one final burst of light, his form disintegrated into a storm of ash, scattering into the winds.
Silence fell.
The wind stilled again.
Layla collapsed to her knees, the shard falling from her fingers, its glow fading back to a quiet blue.
Malik knelt beside her at once, catching her before she could fall forward.
"You did it," he murmured, his voice hoarse but full of something like wonder. "You… you hurt him."
She looked up at him, her breathing ragged.
"I didn't even know what I was doing," she admitted.
His lips curved faintly, and he reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek.
"Doesn't matter," he said softly. "You did it."
Their eyes met, and something passed between them then … quiet, fragile, but undeniable.
A bond.
He helped her to her feet, his hand lingering at her back.
"He'll return," Malik said after a long moment, his voice grim again. "This was just one of his tricks. But now he knows what you can do."
Layla tightened her grip on the shard, feeling its faint pulse against her palm.
"Then let him come," she said, surprising even herself. "We'll be ready."
Malik's golden eyes glittered in the faint light.
And for the first time since she had met him, he smiled … a real smile, full and unguarded.
"You're braver than you know, Dreamer," he said.
As they walked out of the ruined city and into the open desert once more, Layla felt it too … not just bravery, but something else. Something fierce and bright and alive.
Something that would carry her all the way to the end of this journey.
Whatever that ends might be....