Nathen found himself in a vast, otherworldly landscape, shrouded in an ethereal mist. A man stood before him, wearing a Nemes headdress adorned with symbols of an unknown god. His eyes gleamed with an ancient wisdom, and he held a staff in his right hand that radiated power. The man's voice echoed through the mist, calling out to Nathen.

"Nathen... wake up. The time is near."

Nathen's eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright in his cot, breathing heavily. The vision lingered in his mind, vivid and unsettling. He blinked a few times, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream.

Sister Marry entered his room with a warm smile, carrying a steaming cup of Murchroom tea. "Good morning, Nathen," she greeted him, her voice soothing. "How did you sleep?"

Nathen rubbed his eyes and took the cup gratefully. "Good morning, Sister Marry. I saw the same dream again—the one about the dead General Mahamatra you used to tell stories about. He was the minister of King Deshert, the god-king of Sable Sands. He called out to me, telling me to wake up."

Sister Marry's smile faltered for a brief moment before she composed herself. "You must be coming down with a fever again, Nathen. It's probably why you're seeing these dreams."

Nathen frowned, sipping the tea. "But it's so real, Sister Marry. It's like he's trying to tell me something important."

Sister Marry's heart ached, knowing the truth behind his visions but unwilling to burden him with the knowledge. She knew the seven kingdoms had sent search parties to find the Red Rising, and she feared what might happen if Nathen's true nature were discovered. "Dreams can be strange things, Nathen. They often reflect our worries and fears. Drink your tea and rest. You'll feel better soon."

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Nathen nodded, though a lingering doubt remained in his mind. He trusted Sister Marry, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his dreams than just a fevered imagination.

---

High in the treacherous mountains of Thimier, a group of thieves crept towards the entrance of the Crimson Chambers of Mount Hami. They were a motley crew, each one skilled in different arts of thievery and deception. Their mission was perilous: to steal the blood of Artemis for the seven kingdoms and ensure the success of Project Morning Star.

The leader of the group, a cunning rogue named Kael, motioned for silence as they approached the massive stone doors guarded by the Golden Serpents of Thimier. The serpents were colossal, their scales shimmering with a golden hue, and their eyes gleamed with an intelligence that spoke of ancient knowledge.

As the thieves drew closer, the serpents hissed in unison, their voices merging into a chilling harmony. "To enter the Crimson Chambers, you must answer our riddles three. Fail, and you shall become our feast."

Kael stepped forward, his heart pounding. "We accept your challenge, noble serpents. Speak the first riddle."

The first serpent's eyes gleamed as it spoke. "I am not alive, but I grow; I don't have lungs, but I need air; I don't have a mouth, and I can drown. What am I?"

Kael thought quickly, his mind racing. "Fire," he answered confidently.

The serpents nodded approvingly. "Correct. Now, the second riddle," the second serpent hissed. "I have cities, but no houses; I have mountains, but no trees; I have water, but no fish. What am I?"

Kael pondered this for a moment before responding. "A map."

The serpents exchanged a glance and nodded once more. "Correct. Now, for the final riddle," they said in unison. "I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with the wind. What am I?"

Kael hesitated, the pressure mounting. The lives of his companions depended on his answer. He took a deep breath and replied, "An echo."

The serpents regarded him silently for a moment before withdrawing, revealing the entrance to the Crimson Chambers. "You have answered wisely. Enter, and claim what you seek."

The thieves hurried inside, their hearts pounding with a mixture of relief and anticipation. As they descended into the depths of the chambers, they knew that the blood of Artemis lay just beyond their reach, guarded by challenges that would test their skills and resolve to the utmost.

Back in Nika, Nathen stared out the window, lost in thought. His visions and Sister Marry's stories intertwined in his mind, forming a tapestry of mystery and destiny. Little did he know that the threads of fate were tightening around him, drawing him ever closer to a revelation that would change his life—and the fate of Taeloria—forever.