Kalan knots the boat rope to the empty dock, no other boats are in sight as he scans the barren area. The rustling wind blows sands that are devoid of any life. He raises a hand to shield his eyes from the blazing sun only to see a mass of dunes surrounding the dock- Like the inside of an orange-pink bowl.

He glances at the wood below his feet to see the dock has been maintained. Not too recently, but recent enough.

He's uncertain... Something just isn't right.

"We need to get out of here," Kalan Says, turning to D'aliah who crosses the bridge and hands him a backpack. "There should be a city here,"

"Maybe your memories are failing you," She snarks, saddling her bag onto her back before walking ahead of him. "I'm sure the city you speak of is beyond dunes."

"No I mean we should get back on the boat,"

D'aliah turns to face Kalan, rolling her eyes. "What's the point of being so skilled if you're afraid,"

His eyes scan the area as he shrugs, presuming he may be overly anxious- But the feeling looms, as he straps the backpack over his shoulders and steps towards D'aliah. "Fear is a trait of survival for a reason,"

They step onto the sands, making their way to the nearest dune as the heat slowly passes through the sole of their shoes, and the sun suffocates the not-so-thick, but too-thick materials of their outfits. Wrapped in a light Valantian fabric of a cream colour patterned with subtle royal blue fractal-like mandalas. Wrapping from their ankles to their heads with a hood, their faces are masked to protect their nose and mouth from the sands. This type of clothing is designed for the extreme heat but clearly wasn't designed with the desert of Nihi in mind.

As they reach the base of the dune, Kalan grabs D'aliah by the shoulder, readying his blade. He looks at the ground to see a tiny bit of displaced sand that subtly reflects the sun on its matte surface. "Ready your weapon,"

The moment the words leave his mouth a series of metallic sheets erupt off the ground, encircling them in a large puff of sand as D'aliah scrambles for her blade. Kalan shields his eyes trying his best to maintain any semblance of vision. He reaches for D'aliah's hand and the moment he takes a step forward to get out of the haze, he feels a blade gently pressing against his cheek as it arches round to the back of his body. Lowering his arm before he raises both of his hands.

"Get off me!" D'aliah yells amongst the dust as a man's body crashes to the floor. His sand-coloured overalls drape to the floor as he grunts at the impact.

The sand starts to settle as silhouettes start to encircle them, at a glance, it is certainly over a dozen figures, many holding curving blades of their own.

The clang of combat rings three times before the ripping of fabric penetrates Kalan's senses. "D'aliah!" He yells in a panic, momentarily stepping forward before he feels the curved blade wrapping further around his neck. "Bad idea," A voice mumbles as the breath brushes his ear.

The dust has settled enough to give him a clear view of the blade, that reaches from his next and around the front of his body like a crescent moon to his rib cage, where the handle vanishes from his vision. Its brownish colour and marrow-like texture masks the blade in the sand, whilst still menacing the white, sharpened edge.

He looks back up to D'aliah, only seeing the shadowed scrambling of three figures and the sound of steel colliding.

"We don't have any money," He says, trying to glance over his shoulder.

"Valantian's be worth a lot 'round 'ere," The deep, rasping voice leaks through Kalan's hood. "The girl a fighta," His laughs lashes beside Kalan's head.

Kalan looks ahead again to see D'aliah striking her blade at one of the assailants, whilst the other is getting up from the floor. He feels the glare of eyes as he pans his head to find the entertained snarls of onlookers- more than two dozen for sure. All of them have this same, crescent-like sword either in their hands or sheathed to their backs.

"Oui, Girl!" The voice yells with grit, as Kalan winces an eye at the sudden noise.

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She doesn't respond, clashing against an assailant's blade before kicking it out of his hand. All the spectators cheer as her opponent is disarmed, the large majority of them laughing at their flailing teammates.

"D'aliah!" Kalan yells, stealing her attention. Her eyes widen as she notices the predicament Kalan is in before raising her hands.

"Don't hurt him," she says as she drops the blade.

The two assailants grab her arms, getting them behind her back whilst the second assailant slaps her across the face, dropping her to her knees.

"Hey!" Kalan yells, nearly forgetting about the blade around his neck as he grips the blade he's still holding.

"Clip 'er ears!" Yells a spectator, as the rest laugh in agreement. "Teach 'er a lesson!" Yells another.

"Don't touch her!" Kalan screams at the top of his lungs, drawing all the attention to himself as it goes draws completely silent.

He helplessly watches as the men hold D'aliah with her arms behind her back, lifting her to her feet. The crowd erupts in glee as they finish processing Kalan's pitiful threat.

"All bark an' no bite," scoffs a viewer. "At least the girl put up a fight!" yells another. "Clip 'is ears too!"

"There be no clippin' t'day!" Yells an assailant draped in the same outfit as the rest of them. Stepping amongst Kalan and D'aliah. "The buyer wants 'em in proper condition," He says as he glances at D'aliah, grabbing her chin to inspect her face. He then walks over to Kalan, locking eyes with him as Kalan notices the empty socket of his right eye, completely encased in a metallic dome that shapes the space.

"We grabbed ya first 'cause we 'eard stories 'bout you an dem blades," He says, circling Kalan as his eye scans up and down.

"If she can't protect 'erself the sands will take 'er… Or they'll take 'er lover if ya ain't focusin' on ya'self."

He grabs Kalan's chin, turning his hand to both sides while he takes a deep look at his face. Kalan notices that both of the man's ears have been severed at the top. The poor shaping seems as though the job was done by tearing.

"You're Valantian," Kalan scoffs.

The man laughs, finishing his analysis before looking into Kalan's eye. "I was,"

He turns back to the crowd of assailants, raising two thumbs in the air and plastering a large grin on his face. "These be the marks!" He says as all the assailants cheer in celebration.

"D'aliah, are you alright?" Kalan asks amongst the ruckus.

She glances at him with an agitated glare before defusing, looking at the ground, and nodding her head.

"You should be celebratin' too," The man passes a look at both of them. "Ya' kno' 'ow much sand we moved to make 'em dunes," He laughs.

"We're Valantian heirs!" D'aliah yells, gritting her teeth in rage as her body yanks the man holding her. "Our families will bury you all."

All of the assailants go quiet, watching as the presumed leader walks up to her with an unimpressed look on his face. Kalan lowers his hands, looking over his shoulder- thinking he might be able to slip out of this position.

"Think you're quick enough?" His handler asks, curious. As if he wants Kalan to try it.

He looks back over at the man who starts circling D'aliah the same way he did Kalan. Eyeing her up and down like cattle. He raises his other hand, which Kalan notices has been hidden the whole time. Each finger is replaced with thin rods with what look like poorly engineered joints and pulleys. As his hand encroaches D'aliah's face, he bends each finger as though waking them up- They each move so naturally, far better than any Valantian prosthetics. The functionality surpasses the aesthetic by a long shot.

Before it touches her face, he stops. Hold his hand in place and then smiles at her as if he'd completely forgotten about the threat she'd just spewed.

"Valantians are no fun." He bellows in laughter, hiding his hand once again as the swarm of assailants all laugh with him.

"I ain't paying ya gentlemen until we get 'em back to the site."

The handlers shove Kalan and D'aliah into motion, pushing them toward the dune and telling them to climb. They lug their feet in the sand, begrudging each step that feels like their feet weigh three times what they did before. Each inhalation overheats their lungs as their stamina draws weaker and weaker. All of their captors scale the dune without leaking a breath, or a flinch in their step despite the sliding sand.

As they reach the top, Kalan sees the city he was looking for a short walk away. A clear view of the sandstone and mud-like buildings protruding out of the ground, most rising two stories high. Wooden walkways span the width of roads that bridge between each square of buildings. The roadway passes on both floors as the second is suspended by wiring that webs between pillars dotted throughout the city. Each pillar spans at least three stories high, towering over all that lies below.

"No time ta be gawkin'," Kalan's handler giggles, as he shoves Kalan's shoulder, prompting him to lose his footing, topple over and roll down the dune.

"Kalan!" D'aliah yells.

"The Luná viper is known to adapt to any environment as it can be found on all continents of Luná. Little is known of how it adapts… Or how it reached each nation." - Prophet Origi