The sun scorched above them, a merciless ball of fire hanging in the endless sky. Each step Kain and Yuri took sank slightly into the burning sand, the heat rising through their boots as if the desert itself were trying to consume them.
Hours had passed since they had left the forest behind, and their energy was slowly fading.
"Ugh... I didn't think the world outside would be this hot," Yuri groaned, wiping sweat from his forehead. His cloak clung to him, heavy with heat and dust.
Kain grunted in agreement. "You said that an hour ago. Keep moving."
"But I'm thirsty!" Yuri protested, clutching the side of his bag. "You think she could've packed more than two flasks of water?"
Kain didn't reply. He was focused on the map their mother had given them. The parchment felt strange beneath his fingers—aged, dry, and almost brittle. But worse, it didn't make sense. The landmarks it showed—trees, streams, mountain ridges—were nowhere to be seen. The map spoke of gentle hills and a nearby settlement, not this endless wasteland of gold and fire.
"The map's useless," he muttered, folding it back into his pack. "We'll have to rely on direction."
Yuri looked around nervously, squinting at the dunes. "And how do we know which direction that is? Everything looks the same!"
Kain raised his hand, pointing toward a faint shimmer on the horizon. "That way. I see movement... maybe a settlement."
Yuri squinted, seeing nothing but heat waves dancing like spirits in the distance. Still, he trusted his brother's instincts more than his own eyes, and together they pressed forward.
As the hours stretched on, the dunes grew steeper and more treacherous. The wind howled, reshaping the sand into endless ridges. Each climb felt heavier than the last. Just when Yuri's legs were about to give out, a faint metallic sound reached their ears—clang... clang... clang.
"Do you hear that?" Yuri whispered.
Kain stopped, his hand instinctively reaching for his short blade. "Metal. Someone's forging something."
They followed the sound, scaling one last dune—and froze.
Below them lay a sprawling settlement made of sandstone, scavenged metal, and glowing crystal. Smokestacks rose from its center, spitting white vapor into the desert air. An enormous iron gate guarded the entrance, runes faintly glowing along its surface. Masked figures stood watch, their armor reflecting the shimmering heat.
Yuri's mouth fell open. "A city… out here?"
Kain's eyes narrowed. "Looks like one."
They approached carefully, sand crunching beneath their boots.
"Halt, travelers!" one of the guards barked, his voice muffled through a mask lined with faint blue runes. "Identify yourselves!"
Kain stepped forward. "We came from a forest not far from here. We're looking for shelter and water."
A pause followed. The guards exchanged puzzled looks.
"A forest?" one of them repeated, his tone incredulous. "You've been walking too long in the sun. There's no forest for hundreds of miles—only sand and bones."
Yuri blinked. "That can't be right! We left there this morning—"
The guard chuckled, though the sound was cold. "Then you've seen a mirage, boy. The desert plays tricks on those who wander too long. Best pray it hasn't cooked your minds."
Kain clenched his fists. "We know what we saw."
The lead guard stared at them for a long, silent moment, then sighed. "Whether you've lost your minds or not, that's for the Warden to decide. You'll come inside—but no sudden moves."
He raised his hand, and the iron gate groaned open.
--- The City of Ares Vaal ---
As they stepped through, the brothers were struck by the sheer strangeness of what they saw.
Buildings of weathered stone stood alongside towers of rusted steel. Pipes ran like veins through the streets, hissing steam that filled the air with a metallic tang. The hum of machinery blended with the clang of hammers and the murmur of countless voices.
Everywhere, people moved with purpose—faces covered in scarves and dust masks, eyes shielded by glass lenses. Their clothes were patched with metal plates, belts jingling with tools and flasks.
Yuri's eyes darted from stall to stall, drinking in every sound and shimmer like a child seeing fire for the first time. Kain, however, watched the guards, the machines, and the glint in people's eyes—measuring danger in every corner.
Kain slowed as they passed a group of workers pouring buckets of glowing sand into a spinning machine. The cylinder shrieked to life, separating the grains into fine, shimmering crystals that pulsed faintly with light.
"What are they doing?" Yuri whispered.
A passing miner looked up, his face half-hidden behind goggles. "Soulglass," he rasped. "Mana trapped in the sand. Hard to find, harder to live without."
The miner moved on, dragging a cart filled with more of the strange substance. The brothers exchanged looks—this was no ordinary place. The city was alive, fueled by something between magic and machinery.
Above the streets, great turbines spun lazily, catching the harsh desert winds and channeling them through towering energy spires. In the markets, merchants traded bits of refined Soulglass, water flasks, and scavenged metal fragments for scraps of dried food or tools.
Life here was harsh and governed by rules written in sweat and sand.
At dawn, bells rang from the watchtowers—signaling the start of the Sand Hours, the brief window before the sun grew too fierce for outdoor work. By midday, the streets emptied, leaving only the distant hum of refineries.
Water was sacred. Every drop was measured, bought, and traded. Children carried rationed canteens, learning from an early age that spilling water was an offense punished by public shame—or worse.
When the sun fell and the heat bled away, the city came alive again. Torches and glass lanterns lit the streets, casting blue and amber light across the metal walls. Families gathered around communal wells, whispering stories about the Sand Spirits who guided travelers and cursed the greedy.
--- The Obsidian Spire ---
Far above the streets, in a tower of blackened steel known as The Obsidian Spire, a woman stood at her balcony overlooking the city. Her coat rippled in the wind, and her right arm—crafted entirely of polished metal—clicked faintly as she tightened her grip on the railing.
Her amber eyes glowed faintly as she turned to the guard beside her.
"Two strangers, walking in from the desert… claiming to have come from a forest," she murmured. "How curious."
She straightened, the faint hum of machinery echoing in her movements.
"Bring them to me," she said. "Alive."
The guard saluted and left without a word. The Warden remained still, her gaze fixed on the streets below, where the two brothers walked unknowingly toward the heart of Ares Vaal.