In the desert : almost noon
"Small Boss, did you see something?" one of the men asked, squinting toward the horizon.
Arin nodded. "Yes. I think I saw an oasis. Or maybe it's just a mirage."
"In which direction?" Leran asked, already adjusting his grip on the compass.
"Straight ahead," Arin replied.
None of them noticed that the sand beneath their feet was shifting ever so slightly—drifting in the same direction Arin had pointed. Its color, too, had begun to change. Slowly, imperceptibly, the dull tan began to take on a faint sheen. As if something within the earth had begun to awaken.
"I saw it too," said Vel. "There's a cabin near the water. Looked like a red cloth tied to the roofpole."
Leran frowned. "Didn't the merchant near the caravanserai say that red cloth means the place is already occupied?"
"You think someone else knows about the Crysil?" another asked, uneasy.
"Or it's just a resting point," Arin said, calmly. "A shelter for long-distance travelers. Either way—we'll find out. First, we check the water. Then we see who's inside."
He took a step forward. The others followed.
The oasis, still more than a mile away, shimmered like a secret waiting to be unveiled.
---
Javy the Crown : Largest city in the world
Far from the searing heat of the desert, in the heart of a grand and bustling city, two men walked side by side through a wide, tiled avenue. The street was alive with noise—chatter, laughter, the clang of metal, the scent of baked spices in the air. Ornate buildings towered on either side, their facades painted in bright colors and traced with goldleaf.
The two men looked completely at ease, speaking softly as they moved. Behind them, no fewer than twenty bodyguards followed in a protective formation, each one armed and alert, though no threat seemed near.
"Did you check the glow on the stone?" one of the men asked.
The other gave a nod. "Yes. Very bright. The young master's life force is strong."
"I thought so," the first replied. "Even Sir Yagir said there's nothing life-threatening on the path."
"Roaar!"
The sky seemed to split.
A deep, echoing roar surged through the air, loud enough to shake birds from the rooftops. Conversations across the street fell silent. Merchants froze in place. Children stopped mid-step. In the span of a breath, people on all sides dropped to their knees—heads bowed, trembling.
"That's Sir Yagir!" one of the men said sharply, eyes wide. "What happened?!"
They turned at once.
"We have to go back," the other said, voice tight. "If that roar was about the young master—"
He didn't finish the thought.
They were already running.
---
Oasis : noon
"Why is the water so cold?" asked Kiln, the only Pranik healer in the group. He held his hand just above the pool's surface. "And it feels like… it's flowing."
"I felt that too," Leran muttered, crouching beside him. "It's subtle, but the water is definitely moving. There's a slow current." He glanced toward the far edge. "Maybe we should go down and take a closer look."
Arin shook his head. "No. First, we check the cabin. Then we fill our bottles. We don't touch the pool until we're sure it's safe."
Leran hesitated, then said, "The compass is pointing toward the water now."
Arin stopped in his tracks. "What?"
Leran held up the obsidian compass.
The strand of scorpion hair inside was no longer angled toward the center of the dunes—it now hovered directly toward the oasis, trembling with a faint urgency.
They all turned to look again.
The surface of the pool gleamed like glass under the sun, but just beneath it, the color had changed—too clear, too deep. As if something ancient stirred beneath the surface. And slowly, imperceptibly, the sand around the edge had taken on that same shimmer as before—micro-sheen, like fine silver dust laced through the ground.
Leran stepped toward the cabin, his crossbow raised.
The structure was small—barely more than a wooden hut with faded red cloth flapping over the doorway. Weathered planks, a thatched roof, and a strange stillness pressing against it, as though the air around it refused to stir.
He pushed open the door.
A foul, metallic scent hit them immediately.
Inside, the shadows peeled back slowly.
There was a body—slumped in the far corner, half-covered in a desert cloak. Skin darkened by rot, lips cracked open in a silent scream. His waterskin was untouched. No blood on the sand.
But something had clearly killed him.
And crouched beside the corpse, teeth bared, was a creature the size of a man.
A cayotte.
Its coat was mottled grey, but unnaturally so—stripes of copper fur glinted where the light struck. Its eyes glowed faintly green. And there was something off about its posture—too still, too focused. It was not scavenging. It was waiting.
"Step back," Leran whispered, lowering the compass and raising his weapon.
The cayotte growled—and leapt.
No more hesitation.
It was faster than it looked, a blur of teeth and sinew crashing through the cabin's doorway like a storm. Leran fired instinctively, the bolt glancing off the creature's side—but it didn't even flinch.
"Fall back!" Arin shouted.
Too late.
The cayotte was already on one of the guards—Tarn. Its jaws clamped down on his shoulder, lifting him off his feet before slamming him into the cabin wall with a sickening crack.
Steel rang out.
Vel and Maveth moved in from the flanks, blades drawn. One struck true—slicing a deep gash along the beast's hind leg. But the cayotte twisted mid-air, its claws catching Maveth across the ribs.
Blood sprayed the sand.
The group scattered, re-forming a loose circle around the creature as it paced back into the open, blood dripping from its muzzle.
"Tarn's gone," Kiln whispered, kneeling beside the crumpled form. "Neck snapped."
"Maveth?" Arin asked, still tracking the cayotte's movement.
"Still breathing—but badly."
"Then we end this now."
Leran switched to his blade. Two others followed. Arin didn't hesitate.
Together, they charged.
The fight was brutal. Every strike that landed came at a cost—flesh for flesh, blood for blood. The cayotte moved with a kind of vicious intelligence, aiming for throats, knees, soft targets. But it was outnumbered, and after nearly a minute of relentless assault, it finally collapsed—legs twitching, eyes wide and unfocused.
Its blood steamed into the sand.
The wind picked up. Quiet again.
Two men lay still. One breathing shallow. The rest bloodied, silent.
"Bury Tarn and Maveth," Arin said at last. "We'll rest till dusk. Then we move."
No one argued.
The oasis had given them water.
But it had taken its price.