The desert winds roared louder that evening, like a thousand whispers carried through Theryz's broken dunes. The air shimmered with heat even after sundown, and the sand—painted crimson by the fading sun—seemed to pulse with life of its own. Troday stood on the outskirts of the village, watching the horizon twist and distort as mana flickered wildly in the atmosphere. Something wasn't right. It felt as though the desert itself was breathing.
Lyra stood beside him, her eyes narrow, scanning the expanse. "It's not natural," she murmured. "Mana doesn't fluctuate like this unless…"
"Unless someone's drawing it in," Amylo finished grimly, his voice carrying a faint edge. He clenched his fist, the faint glow of embers pulsing through his veins. "General Lukes. It has to be him."
The name hung heavy in the air. Lukes — a general of the enemy's elite force — was rumored to control mana itself, draining it from regions to fuel his army's forbidden weapons. His presence explained the dying flora, the parched wells, the way the monsters grew restless. Theryz wasn't cursed. It was being consumed.
As the group began moving toward the west dunes, where the mana surge was strongest, the air thickened. The whispering winds grew louder, forming indistinct words. Lyra paused, her eyes wide. "Do you… hear that?"
Troday nodded. "Voices."
The whispers grew coherent — overlapping chants, prayers, and then cries. The sands beneath them began to shift violently, forming humanoid figures. Translucent shapes, their faces warped with agony. The lost souls of Theryz — victims of Lukes' mana extraction.
Amylo raised a wall of flame in reflex. "They're not alive," he hissed. "They're echoes — mana constructs left behind when Lukes drained their essence."
Troday drew his sword, its edge glinting faintly blue in the dim light. "Then let's put them to rest."
The next few minutes were chaos. The apparitions swarmed them, their bodies reforming each time they were struck down. Lyra's magic bolts shattered through them, but more rose from the dunes. The team moved in tight formation, but it became clear this wasn't a battle meant to win — it was meant to delay.
Amylo's expression hardened. "He's close. He's watching us."
A low chuckle rolled through the wind, deep and distorted. "How fascinating… the deserter returns, and with new friends."
The temperature dropped instantly. Out from the rippling horizon, a figure emerged — tall, clad in tattered crimson armor that shimmered like molten glass under the moonlight. His eyes glowed faintly gold beneath his helm.
"General Lukes," Troday said, his grip tightening on his blade.
The general tilted his head, a smirk audible in his tone. "Ah, so the name still carries weight. Good. I'd hate to be forgotten."
Amylo's fire flickered dangerously. "You turned Theryz into a graveyard. You call that glory?"
Lukes chuckled. "Glory? No. Efficiency." He raised a single hand, and the sand around them erupted into spiraling vortexes of energy. "Why waste soldiers when mana gives birth to perfect obedience?"
Lyra shielded her face as shards of energy burst through the air. "He's controlling the desert itself!"
Troday leaped forward, cutting through one of the swirling sand constructs. "Then we end this before he drains the rest of it!"
The battle ignited like a storm. Lukes barely moved, his gestures commanding the dunes like an orchestra. Every strike they made was countered by the environment itself — blades of sand, molten pillars, and ghostly forms striking in perfect unison.
Amylo shouted, "He's absorbing my fire! He's converting mana flow!"
Lukes' laughter echoed. "You think flames can harm me, little traitor? You were built from my ashes."
Troday turned sharply. "What does he mean?"
Amylo didn't answer, his focus breaking as Lukes unleashed a beam of condensed mana. Troday reacted instantly, shoving Amylo aside and taking the brunt of the blast. His body hit the sand hard, the ground cracking beneath him.
"TRODAY!" Lyra screamed, casting a protective barrier as Lukes advanced.
The general's voice softened, mockingly. "Such courage. Such futility."
Before Lukes could strike again, Amylo's body erupted in flames brighter than ever before. His eyes burned red, his aura wild and unrestrained. "No more," he growled. "You used me once. Never again."
He extended both arms, summoning twin vortexes of flame that tore through the sandstorm, cutting Lukes' control in half. Troday, wincing in pain, stood and met his eyes. "Do it, Amylo! Break his mana stream!"
Together, Troday's sword absorbed Lyra's enchanted energy while Amylo's flames converged. A blinding light burst outward — a collision of magic, fury, and will. The dunes exploded in a shockwave that swallowed everything.
When the dust settled, Lukes was gone — his armor shattered and buried beneath the desert. But his voice lingered faintly in the wind.
"You can't stop the tide… Theryz is only the beginning."
The group stood silently among the ruins, breathing heavily. The sky, for the first time in days, shimmered with faint stars again. Mana flow returned, weak but stable. The spirits that haunted the dunes faded one by one, whispering their thanks.
Amylo looked down, his expression torn between rage and sorrow. "He was once my mentor… before he lost himself."
Troday placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then let's make sure no one else does."
As the night wind cooled the battlefield, their shadows stretched across the sand — three figures standing against the vast unknown. Ahead lay only darkness, but for the first time, there was light within their hearts.
The Whispering Sands had fallen silent. But the war had only just begun.
To be Continued....
Written By:-Punit Israni
Enhanced By:-Chatgpt