Vale slowly rose to his feet, his gaze fixed on the figure standing atop the dune.

  The rising sun burned behind the stranger, casting him into a faint, wavering silhouette. Details were swallowed by the glare, but one thing was clear immediately, the man was not young. His back was hunched with age, and he leaned heavily on a long, staff-like cane planted deep into the sand, as though it were the only thing anchoring him against the desert wind.

  Vale and Eskar narrowed their eyes in unison. Their hands hovered near their blades, muscles tense, ready to draw at the first sign of danger.

  Nothing happened.

  The desert fell into an oppressive silence, broken only by the soft whisper of wind dragging grains of sand across the dunes. The ravens remained asleep behind them, unaware of how close danger, or salvation, might be.

  'Is he going to move?' Vale wondered, his focus unwavering.

  Seconds stretched into minutes.

  As the sun continued to rise, its light crept around the stranger’s form, gradually revealing more of him. His long robe fluttered faintly in the breeze, its edges frayed and worn thin by years of travel. Eskar swallowed and shifted his stance, then straightened his posture as if making a decision.

  Vale glanced at him, sensing the change.

  Slowly, deliberately, Eskar released his grip on his blade and raised one hand into the air, palm open.

  Vale’s eyes widened slightly.

  “We do not mean you any harm,” Eskar said clearly, his voice steady as he tried to appear as non-hostile as possible.

  The man did not respond immediately.

  He stared at Eskar for a long time, his face still hidden by shadow and distance. Then, at last, he moved.

  With slow, careful steps, the man descended the dune. Sand flowed and slid behind him with each movement, cascading like water in his wake. As he drew closer, his features became clearer, a short, gray beard clung to his weathered jaw, and his hood was torn free by the wind, revealing an old face marked by deep lines and sun-scorched skin. His short hair fluttered wildly, untouched by care or comfort.

  His eyes, bright, unmistakably ruby, locked onto Vale and Eskar with sharp awareness.

  Despite his imposing presence, there was no hostility in his movements. No tension in his stance. That alone eased something tight in Vale’s chest.

  When the man finally spoke, his voice was old and hoarse, yet carried with surprising clarity.

  “What are you two doing here?”

  He paused, eyes flicking between them.

  “And how did you get here?”

  Vale hesitated only a moment before answering.

  “We were teleported here from our original location,” he said. “But we don’t know where… here is.”

  The man stopped abruptly, staring at them in silence. Then he exhaled slowly.

  “That explains it,” he murmured. “Explains how you suddenly appeared.”

  His gaze drifted to the ravens, and his eyes widened ever so slightly.

  Eskar seized the opening.

  “I apologize, sir, but is there any way you could give us directions?”

  The man glanced at him, then reached to his waistband and pulled free a battered bottle. He drank greedily, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and let out a dry chuckle.

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  “Giving directions in the Scorched Sands only gets you killed, kid.”

  Vale and Eskar exchanged uneasy glances.

  “Then what are we supposed to do?” Eskar asked, confusion creeping into his voice.

  The old man studied them for a moment before answering.

  “I’m heading to Irea,” he said simply. “You can follow me if you want.”

  He paused, then added casually,

  “Most of your friends probably ended up there too.”

  Eskar’s eyes widened.

  “Friends?” he repeated sharply. “You know about the other students?”

  The man nodded once, indifferent.

  “Yes. Most of them arrived near Irea.”

  His gaze lingered on Vale and Eskar.

  “You two were exceptionally unlucky.”

  Relief surged through Vale’s chest, but he quickly spoke again.

  “Do you know if a white wyvern and a robot arrived there as well?”

  The man shook his head as he stepped closer.

  “No. I haven’t heard anything about either. If they’d shown up, word would’ve spread.”

  He shrugged lightly.

  “They likely ended up elsewhere.”

  Vale bit his lip, worry tightening in his chest as Ember’s image surfaced in his mind.

  The man approached the oasis and looked down at the water, his tanned reflection rippling across its surface.

  “If we leave now,” he said, “the journey to the sea will take about two months. From there, transport to Irea is safe.”

  Eskar nodded slowly, then turned back to the man.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but who exactly are you?”

  The man glanced over his shoulder, unimpressed.

  “Drago,” he replied. “Head librarian and senior researcher of the Royal Irea Library.”

  He turned slightly, ruby eyes narrowing with faint amusement.

  “I assume your next questions are why I’m here, and how I survived.”

  Eskar nodded cautiously.

  Drago chuckled, the sound dry and tinged with sorrow.

  “That figures.”

  Vale cut in before Eskar could continue.

  “Did you also encounter the giant scorpions?”

  He hesitated, then added,

  “And the dragons?”

  Drago turned sharply toward him, one eyebrow lifting in clear surprise.

  Drago studied Vale for a long moment before finally speaking.

  “So,” he said at last, his voice low and rough, “you’ve already seen the sand dragons.”

  His eyes drifted away, as if recalling something unpleasant.

  “I’m surprised you survived.”

  He resumed walking, his cane crunching softly into the sand with each step, his tone turning indifferent, almost bored.

  “To begin with,” he continued, “those scorpions hunt humans. Actively.”

  He glanced back over his shoulder.

  “The dragons hunt the scorpions. But don’t mistake that for mercy, if they’re hungry, they won’t pass up a human.”

  Vale felt a chill run down his spine.

  “This desert,” Drago went on, “is crawling with predators. That’s because of its origins.”

  He gestured vaguely toward the endless dunes.

  “It attracts only hunters. Not a single true prey species lives here.”

  Vale’s eyes widened.

  “Why?” he asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Drago shrugged without slowing.

  “Sense has nothing to do with it.”

  He waved a dismissive hand.

  “I’ll explain on the way. For now, prepare to depart.”

  He paused briefly, then added casually,

  “We’ll stop at the desert temple. It’s not far, about a month’s walk.”

  Vale and Eskar stared at each other.

  A month.

  Eskar was the first to speak.

  “A month in this desert?” he said incredulously. “Wouldn’t that mean death?”

  Drago glanced at him, unimpressed.

  “As long as you follow my instructions, you’ll survive,” he said flatly.

  Then, almost as an afterthought,

  “Though, since you’re both absolute beginners, we’ll probably need to kill a scorpion or two per day.”

  Vale’s expression shifted from disbelief to outright alarm.

  'A scorpion a day?'

  Those things could tear them apart in seconds.

  Eskar voiced what they were both thinking.

  “How do you expect us to kill those things?”

  Drago didn’t even hesitate.

  “Between the eight eyes on their head,” he said, “there’s a soft point. Pierce it and they die instantly.”

  He said it the way one might explain how to cut bread.

  Vale and Eskar exchanged a look. They both understood the truth, knowing where to strike and surviving long enough to do so were two very different things.

  Still, neither argued further.

  They didn’t have a choice.

  Just as they were about to move, Vale hesitated and turned back.

  “Sorry, sir,” he said. “You never told us why you are here.”

  Drago stopped.

  He turned slowly, ruby eyes narrowing just slightly.

  “I’m responding to a personal matter,” he said bluntly.

  No elaboration. No invitation for more questions.

  Vale studied him for a moment, then shrugged and let it go. His ravens took to the air, circling once before settling into formation, alert and ready.

  Eskár adjusted his stance as well, blades resting at his hips. Both of them faced Drago, taking in his hunched form beneath the heavy robe, the cane that somehow carried him forward without hesitation.

  The three stood there in silence for a heartbeat.

  Then Drago spoke again, irritation creeping into his tone.

  “Shall we leave?”

  He glanced at the sky.

  “We don’t have all day.”

  Vale nodded. Eskar followed suit.

  Without another word, Drago turned and began walking, and they fell in behind him, two stranded students placing their lives in the hands of a mysterious old man crossing the most lethal desert they had ever seen.

  Vale exhaled quietly.

  'What could possibly go wrong?'