23rd of Indomitrua, 1247 of the First Age.

The blazing Illius’s searing heat gradually dissipated the shadows of the buildings in Qaib Dayrieth, a small village in the Golden Desert of the South. The few nomads resting in the gap between houses quickly woke up from their serene dreams as Armaan poured buckets of water on them. "Damn it, kid, a simple tuck of our shoulders would have done it," the man said as he slowly got up, his copper skin drenched in cold water, relatively compared to the southern standards. "That may cost you a bit more auryms, old man," Armaan said with a snooty tone before he started chanting, water pouring from his ebony palms held over it.

“"Watch your tongue, lad, or you might lose it sooner than your innocence." Raheem, the old nomadic Yhanubj, said as he slowly got up, his ragged clothes and turban framing his face beyond its prime, with a thick bush of a beard covering the lower half. As soon as he stepped out into the Illius radiated street, his clothes started rapidly drying.

“Hey kid, are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Then, as he sat down, he tried to entice Armaan once more. Most Yhanubj lived in nomadic tribes to this day, with only a select few who decided to settle down among the other races of the Empire, helping with their sand magics to cultivate the golden deserts of the south.

"Nah, you're talking to a soon-to-be Velefinaar of the Legion." Armaan proudly stated.

“Venefireth.” Raheem corrected him while moistening his wrinkled forehead before covering it. "Same thing," Armaan said, feeling a bit awkward while kicking up sand. "How old are you, kid?" Raheem asked.

"I'm in my sixteenth year." Armaan replied after a bit of hesitation. "Then shouldn't you already be enlisted? I doubt the Legion will come here anyways to search for recruits." Raheem added, his jade eyes gleaming with the finesse of a fox.

"That much I'm aware of. That is why I'll set out in a few days." Armaan added while flicking the coin, a blinding sheen leading to it landing in the sand after the young boy tumbled back a bit, scrubbing his intense argent eyes.

“Are you sure? Only the Impure Legions await folks like us. And let me tell you that is far from what you may imagine it to be.” Raheem added with a dramatic sigh as he crouched down, picking up the coin. He rolled it across his knuckles before he flipped it back to its Armeen who awkwardly caught it.

“Trust me old man, you’ll hear of me soon, when I cut down my first great sandworm. Also I’m aware of that. My father served in the Fourteenth, he even had his arm augmented with a goortslang’s” Armeen said while puffing out his chest, in his head he already stood over the mighty beast stalking beneath the sands a bit further north from where he lives.

The Impure Legions or in aevhen Immunirith Legionethir were the military force of the Empire consisting of the lowest tribes amongst the humans, merkin, plant-kin and even included some of the pariah folk including the orkhin and the much reviled vampyrok.

Their youngest were recruited at the age of fifteen and had to serve at least five years before they could get their first augmentation, which was rarely their choice. It was mostly decided upon which arkhaine element they had an affinity with, so for example Armaan’s father who was a natural Chtonmancer in his life got the arm of a Grootslang, a serpentine monster capable of bending sand and earth to its primal will.

“I have no doubt about it.” Raheem nodded his head while caressing his beard like some sage from the west. “Say kid, what about we escort you to the city, making a few stops here and there maybe and if you like what you saw, you join us?” Raheem added while circling around the boy like a shark.

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“What stops?” Armaan asked with eyes brimming with excitement. Once upon he truly wished to join the nomads as he heard many tales about them. But those days were long gone by now.

“I don’t know, maybe some ancient ruins filled with lost treasures of the Dawn Age, mighty artifacts that may grant your des…” As he started listing, he walked to the edge of the single street, staring proudly at the Illius savoring the victory in his mind. Then when he turned around, only the empty street and the footsteps in the sand greeted him. “Told you, we should have brought Maahir.” Faadil, a fellow mercenary of his said while lifting a gourd filled with sweetened water. The two men returned back to their nearby camp with Raheem looking back one last time, one last sigh left his dry mouth.

**

“Mother, I’m home!” Armaan softly yelled as his feet stepped from the scorching silken sand onto the soothing smooth surface of their home. Before another word escaped his mouth, he remained silent after realizing the hour of the day. With tender steps, he approached the doorway diagonal to the entrance, stepped through the arched doorway, and knelt beside his mother, putting his palms together, his silver eyes closing shut.

The two started whispering their prayers to the Shepherd of the Dreamers, whose hauntingly exquisite carved form rested on the small pedestal surrounded by black candles, each burning with a small spark emitting a sweet-scented fume. An aevhen maiden draped in layers of fine clothing, a small hood veiling her alluring face covered in skull markings. Her mystical, slanted eyes closed eternally.

Laying in front of the small sculpture, a medallion with a copper serpent molded, possessing the texture of swirling, smooth sand. The last thing left to remind them of their loss, his father, his beloved. “How was your day? I hope you behaved today.” After several moments of silence, his mother, Muneera, broke the silence, her hands still locked together, eyes closed.

“I did Mother. but…” As he opened his eyes and mouth, the words stopped flowing as if something were blockading the way. “I know. Every son wants to follow in their father’s footsteps.” A tender smile curved onto her lips, easing the tightening of his tongue and throat. “Yes, I wish to be someone who he could be proud of.” He added while looking at the medallion lying silently, the serpentine gaze focused on him.

“I think he already would be. But I know you, and I’ll support your dreams. Just promise to me that you return whenever you can, and always write. Especially tales of glory to read to your siblings.” She added, focusing her attention on the medallion, bringing back fond memories, including the time she met her beloved, in a tent full of wounded, including him.

“When will you plan to set off?” As her words reached his ears, he froze while standing up, hoping to evade this question. “In two days when the desert soothes.” he answered, forcing the words as a coldness gripped his heart. “I still want to say farewell to the others.” He continued with a somber look.

“You should.” The two walked out together, Armaan trying to ease his mind after the thought of setting his feet beyond the boundaries of the village started settling in, filling him with a fear he could not fully yet grasp. “And the sooner the better. I remember your father regretted it when he enlisted. He tried to escape the barracks numerous times” Muneera added as they entered the small kitchen where he left the bucket of water after returning home.

“Almost forgot. But that’s the other thing, is it not a problem if I stay out a bit late today? I want to say farewell with one last delve into the old ruins.” He leaned onto the counter, watching as his mother prepared dinner, stew made of a one-eyed batwing creature called Popobawa usually emitting a sulfuric scent that can paralyze its victims, native to the area. Mostly found in caves and ruins like the one near Qaib Dayrieth.

“You can, but beware and don’t venture too deep.” She grabbed a sharp knife, cutting the hen-sized creature’s cadaver with brutal efficiency, scaring Armaan a little. “I won’t. But even if…” He leaned a bit back but before he could finish his sentence, Muneera stopped and stared into his eyes saying. “Even with your magical prowess, there are dangers lurking beyond what you can handle currently, trust me. So do not enter the deeper floors.” Her voice firm and calm, sent chills down his spine.

“I won’t. I promise!” The two embraced each other before Armaan rushed out to meet up with the others, Muneera watching his back with proud eyes, yet unease crept through her being, sensing Shadows encroaching their little settlement before waving them away by blaming her motherly worry before returning to preparing dinner…