The cracked dry dirt road led them toward sandy hills. Elias kept them on the King’s Road for the most part but the road eroded and was covered with so much sand and dirt that it was impossible to tell exactly where it wound and led. Along the way, Elias stopped and got off his horse to dig up parts of the road. They uncovered old markings and engraved words describing how far away they were from different cities. It helped give Elias a better sense of where they needed to go.

The sun scorched the endless expanse of desert as the trio continued their journey. The heat created a mirage that made the horizon dance, and the golden sand stretched as far as the eye could see. They were a small moving speck in the vastness, the sound of their horses' hooves reduced to a faint whisper against the overwhelming silence of the desert.

As they approached the remnants of what was once a bustling city, a sense of foreboding settled over them. The city's outer walls, now nothing but crumbling ruins, were a testament to the devastating force that had swept through. Thompson, Alice, and Elias guided their horses through the outskirts where the city's defensive walls once stood proud and unyielding, now crumbled, and scattered across the landscape like the bones of a fallen giant. They dismounted near what appeared to be the remains of a grand archway, its once-majestic stones eroded by time and the relentless desert winds.

Thompson's eyes scoured the scene, “We should search for additional supplies. There likely won’t be much in the Sword Temple either.”

"Corrupted beasts have a keen sense of smell. They would have scoured the place clean," said Elias. “The food would have spoiled long ago. If the citizens left any left in the city at all.”

Alice swung down from her horse, patting its neck as she took in their desolate surroundings. "There may be no food, but old cities hide more than just that. Tools, weapons, perhaps even knowledge in old books or maps," she suggested.

The city was a ghost of its former self, the buildings like skeletal remains poking out of the sand. The streets, once lively with the hustle of daily life, were now silent, with only the shifting sand to keep the rhythm of time. The trio moved cautiously, alert for any signs of danger or remnants of the past inhabitants. The air was thick with the dust of decay, and each step stirred clouds of the past that had settled on the forgotten ground.

Thompson led them down what seemed to be the main thoroughfare, his eyes keen and searching. He paused to examine a broken sign. Its lettering was worn away by the abrasive winds but still legible enough to make out the word "marketplace."

“This way,” he motioned, heading towards the skeletal frames of market stalls that had somehow withstood the onslaught that had ravaged the rest of the city. Amidst the wreckage, pottery shards lay scattered like puzzle pieces waiting to complete a picture of the past. Cloth fragments, bleached and torn, fluttered weakly on the remains of wooden beams.

Alice trailed her fingers over an overturned table, the wood petrified by the desert climate. Her eyes caught a glint of metal underneath the debris. She knelt down, pushing aside the rubble to reveal a set of small, intricately crafted tools, their purpose lost to time.

“Look at these,” she called out, her voice breaking the oppressive silence. Thompson and Elias gathered around, examining the find.

“Craftsman’s tools,” Elias observed, “not much use for survival. We may be able to find more pieces for crossbow bolts. Maybe keep the chisel just in case.” He handed the item to Thompson.

They continued their search in the old crafter’s shop. Inside were pieces of half-finished work, scrap metal, and wood. One corner of the shop was collapsed and hard to get into. Together they pushed aside what pieces they could in search of useful items. Eventually, they found a pile of shattered crossbow bolts for Thompson. The weight of the falling house had crushed the wooden shafts of many of the bolts. They would need to be replaced and fixed. The metal tips on the other hand were in great condition for the most part. Some appeared to be a little rusted, but that was only for the outer layer of the bolt. With some work, they could be fixed up and useable.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

They moved deeper into the ruins, each step taking them further into the heart of the desolate city. The air grew heavier as they approached the city center, the devastation more pronounced. The skeleton of a great fountain stood as a centerpiece, its basin dry and cracked, the statues that once spewed water into the air now silent and broken. Thompson's gaze was drawn to a building that had partially survived the cataclysm. The walls of the structure were blackened as if by intense heat, and the doorway stood ajar, beckoning them with its darkened maw.

“Over there,” he pointed. “That building seems to have withstood whatever happened here. We might find something useful inside.”

As they crossed the threshold, the temperature dropped, providing a brief respite from the relentless heat outside. The interior was a maze of collapsed corridors and rooms. They picked their way through, careful to avoid unstable debris. The walls creaked and kicked up dust as they walked. Items were strewn on the ground broken and scattered. Nothing of great interest was on the floor or walls, still, they pushed on.

Elias scanned the rooms. The building had been some type of military structure. A place for soldiers and their things. He collected loose rope and stuffed it in his bag. The others grabbed a few items of interest. One of the things they started to gather was scrap wood. Throughout the desert, they didn’t have much to start a fire with, so it took longer to prepare food and they had fewer options. Whenever they found suitable pieces of wood they handed them to Thompson who stuffed them in his bag.

“I found something,” said Alice. “Old documents. Give me a minute. They are hard to read.”

Elias lit an extra torch and passed it over to Alice. The weathered parchment had small thinning writing on it. Some of the ink had completely washed away with time. Elias and Thompson got in close trying to get a read on the documents as well. Alice riffled through the papers searching for anything she could read well and spread the paper wide for them all to see on the table.

“These papers seem to be… troop and military arrangements. It suits our location at least. They are detailing numbers in each of the standing cities at the time. Or at least the approximate number of soldiers they had at each spot. The Sword Temple had 250 men stationed. That doesn’t include the fighters within the ranks of the Sword Temple itself. They were considered a separate non-military division,” said Alice reading off the last of the legible paper. The edge of which crumbled at her fingertips.

“Well, those men did their jobs at least,” said Elias as he looked over the document. “The Sword Temple stood for another six or so months after this report was made. Things at least should be more preserved at the Sword Temple. They had much longer to prepare for the end of the temple compared to the end of this city. Some cities would get less than a week’s notice before infestations of corruption arrived, and monsters were smarming their doors.”

She kept reading searching for more information. “They had a large division of troops sent to reinforce the Dawncoast and the Dandelion Isles. Almost 5000 troops were sent. That is on top of 3000 already set up there.”

“That sounds about right. Dawncoast was the southernmost city and was hit early in the war but fought on for a while. I was stationed in the Dandelion Isles for a while but had to sail back to the Dawncoast and reinforce their numbers when the Isles fell. The swamps had overgrown into Dawncoast about then. Still, our efforts failed, and we were forced to retreat or die in the city.”

Thompson circled the room checking cubbies and other corners for more documents. He drew out another old sheet of paper and rolled it out onto the half-broken table. The map was light on details now and was unreadable in others.

“The capital is here. The lake and the Witch Coven are marked as well,” said Thompson as he drew his finger along the page. “We’ve crossed West for a few days and followed the King’s Road to…”

“Ward’s Crossing,” said Elias. “It is the only place of the right size in the right spot. That means we are four or five days away from the Sword Temple. Here.”