The days start to pass in the same routine. We ride from dusk until midnight, break for a meal and let the star drakes rest, then ride until sun-up. Darian and I train, we eat dinner, and I go to bed exhausted and bruised.

I love it.

I can feel myself getting stronger. My spells have been leveling up from all the practice and sparring matches I’ve been doing, which so far as I can tell hasn’t made any of them more powerful, but has significantly reduced their mana cost. Currently I’ve grinded things up to:

[Endure: Level 5]

[Repel: Level 5]

[Devour: Level 3]

[Coagulate: Level 4]

[Stabilize: Level 2]

[Hemic Hardening: Level 3]

[Heal: Level 4]

I’ve been getting a lot of practice with Coagulate and Heal, especially after each morning’s sparring match.

After more than a week of training, I gain an overall level-up as well, bringing me to 18: I guess it’s not just real fights that count toward that. Echo tells me I’ll get a class evolution at level 20, but won’t explain what that means beyond “The new class will grant the user access to additional stat bonuses.” I want to see if I can hit it before we reach the Oasis. It’s only two days away, now.

But when we rise the next evening, there’s a haze on the horizon.

“Sandstorm.” Xamireb frowns. “I thought I’d felt something in the air as we were heading to bed last morning.”

“You think it’s magical?” Darian asks. We all continue to pack up camp as we eye the red-tinted horizon.

“Not sure,” Xamireb admits. “As we approach the Oasis, the residual Life arcanum in the air and ground is growing stronger. It could be the storm, or it could be the Oasis. But we should proceed with caution regardless.”

“We’ll try to arc around it,” Darian says. “It might extend our trip by half a night, but given our drakes, we should still reach the Oasis before Constance. We can afford the delay.”

“How’s a magical sandstorm different from a normal one?” I ask Quell as we finish tearing down camp. He’s started to help pack things up now, even if the way he stores the supplies is inevitably done so poorly that Darian redoes his work when he’s not looking.

“It’s more dangerous, for one.” Quell is struggling to stuff a canvas into its roll. He should have folded it first. “Wind kicks up arcanum-laden dust into the air, and the magic interacts within the storm to produce all sorts of effects. It’s life magic, so it’s pretty much guaranteed to affect any living creatures who get caught in it, in some way or another. It might put you to sleep, or blind you, or cause you to start seeing things. All temporary, of course. Well. Usually.”

I grab the canvas from him and pull it out of the bag, then start to roll it up properly. “I thought Life arcanum was about healing. Why are all of these effects bad?”

Quell shakes his head. “Life arcanum is just about, well, life. It could be good or bad, depending on the effect. It is equally possible the sandstorm could be beneficial to us. Maybe it would improve our eyesight or heal our wounds. But it’s a flip of the coin, and when one side could be life and the other death, most don’t risk it.”

“Fair enough.” I tighten down the strap and hand the rolled canvas back to Quell. He staggers as I drop it into his arms. “Do you think we’ll be able to go around it?”

Quell lugs the bag over to Poppy and rolls it into place on her back, heaving a relieved sigh. “That depends on the winds.”

As the sun sets and we continue our ride south, the sandstorm vanishes from sight, a smudge like any other cloud on the horizon. But as the night continues, its shadow begins to grow once more, steadily blotting out the stars.

“Magic or not, we’ll need to proceed carefully,” Earnest says as we stop for lunch. One of the two moons has become a faint orange glow behind the sandstorm’s cover, while the other crescent hangs like a frown overhead. “We’re not going to be able to outrun it.”

Darian grimaces. “It seems Rinviu is against us.”

“Or Kero,” Liz says.

“That would be a bad omen, given our destination,” Earnest notes.

“Let’s hope it’s neither.” Xamireb carefully unfolds their limbs and climbs down from their star drake, taking the reins in hand. They’re still a little stiff, but doing much better than days previous. “It helps nothing to attract the ire of the gods, especially as I am beginning to suspect the Oasis is to blame after all. There’s more magic in the ground around these parts. We should proceed carefully, Captain.”

Darian scrutinizes the ground. Though we’ve been traveling over packed clay, it’s beginning to transition back into dunes once more. “Sandworms?”

“I don’t believe so,” Xamireb says. “I haven’t felt any movement. Yet… I don’t know. There is something strange about that sandstorm I can’t place.”

“Is it the ground or sky we should be worried about?” Darian asks.

They can only shake their head. “Once I determine the cause of what I’m sensing, you will be the first to know. But if we can spare the slower pace, I can study the ground better while walking.”

Darian glares at the night sky for a moment, then looks off to the south, where the Life Oasis is supposed to be.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll give you an hour. After that we’ll ride once more.”

“Who are those gods?” I ask Quell quietly as we dismount and begin walking. Xamireb leads the way, using his front two legs to prod the ground curiously as he walks. “Rinviu and Kero?”

“The god of wind and the god of life,” Quell explains. “Along with Relona, god of stone, and perhaps more recently Widengra, god of war, they’re the most common gods to worship in the Duneshade Kingdom. I’ve heard it’s much the same in Moonfall. Pilgrimages to the Lifespring to pray for a blessing from Kero are common.”

“Are the prayers ever answered?” I ask, skeptical. The gods of this world—or at least their demigods—seem so strangely… physical. Lorata’s champion, Zeyaelid, hadn’t looked that much different from Xamireb. Although her level had been significantly higher than anything else I’ve encountered since. But shouldn’t deities be more abstract than this? More unknowable? Champions have levels, and so do I. The difference between mortals and gods shouldn’t just be a bit of training.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Then again, I suppose I’ve only seen a Champion, not a god itself, so maybe it’s too early to judge.

“Occasionally,” Quell says. “Though I’ve not heard of a major blessing being granted in my lifetime. Some say the Lifespring itself is its own celestial gift.” He pauses, and even though we’re already speaking quietly, he lowers his voice even more. “I don’t personally subscribe to that theory.”

I quirk a smile. “Is that blasphemy, Quell?”

“No!” he objects. “Although some might say that.”

“So what do you think the Lifespring is, if not a gift from the gods?” I ask.

“It’s a Ruin,” he says. “Most scholars outside of Duneshade agree. It matches the patterns of other Ruins.”

“Ruins?” I ask. “There’s more places like Lifespring?”

“Yes and no,” Quell says, his face lighting up at the question.

Uh oh. This feels like an incoming rabbit hole.

“There are many Ruins scattered all across Lusio,” he says. “The largest similarity between them is that they’re each connected to an arcanum source. Most of them have some vestiges of the civilization that had previously resided there. Crumbled buildings, buried mosaics. The Petrified Grove is actually remarkably preserved, unlike the rest. All of them leak raw arcana into the surrounding environment. For some Ruins, this is noxious—the Black Spire, for instance, bleeds necrotic energy into the surrounding lands, making rehabilitation impossible. But for the Oasis, it’s the opposite: life has sprung up all around it. The healing magic can be harnessed for great good.” He frowns. “Which is why it remains so disputed.”

“What happened to the previous civilization?” I ask. “If it was so desirable, where did they all go?”

Quell lifts up his hands. “No one knows. But it’s fascinating to think about, isn’t it? There’s theories about that, too. Some historians think the civilization left through the Springs.”

“Through it?” I ask, confused. A piece of grit abruptly stings my eye, and I wince, trying to blink out the sand. More sting my arms and face; the breeze is picking up.

Quell nods enthusiastically. “Each Ruin draws energy from a different source of magic, right? And these magic sources are different dimensions. The Between, for instance—somewhere you might have briefly visited. It’s a source for null magic; the infinitesimal incarnate. Its magic is the stuff between locations, between matter, between time. And it’s similar for the Lifespring: the dimension it’s connected to is the Lull. Since these are places—however abstract—the theory goes that you should be able to travel to them. Indeed, you’re walking evidence of that. So some speculate that the ancient people simply… walked through, leaving this world behind.”

I frown, thinking about my experience in the Between. It had been disorienting. A void. I hadn’t had a body, no sense of direction or time. Who would want to leave behind a world as rich as this to live somewhere so empty? I’m not sure I buy that.

“Is that what you believe?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. If you can pass through the Oasis and into the Lull, I don’t know of anyone who’s managed to achieve it since the ancients. The door isn’t all the way closed, that’s for certain—but if there’s a way to open it fully, that’s been lost to time. One thing that is for certain, however, is that whatever happened, happened everywhere across Lusio, all at once. Each city left abruptly abandoned. That speaks to something magical, doesn’t it?”

Or supernatural. I’m not sure I share Quell’s optimism that whatever happened to the people in these cities was as benign as he suggests.

But in the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Whether abandoned or destroyed, the Lifespring remains my goal.

“Do you think there’s a danger in me visiting the Oasis?” I ask him. I don’t have to lower my voice anymore, because the wind has picked up, howling in low tones, hissing sand over the ground and against the star drakes’ hides. I tuck my head down as we walk; the conversation at least provides good distraction from the increasingly inhospitable elements.

“Since it’s a magic source connected to one of the gods,” I add.

“You’re worried Kero might notice you?” Quell asks, drawing up his hood. The cloaks are designed to keep out sunlight, however, not sand, and he spits grit from his mouth as he tucks his head down, no longer talking into the wind. “I don’t think that’s a likely concern. Unless you plan on praying to them, I doubt you’ll have a way to draw their notice.”

Yet Hans and I drew a Champion’s notice, somehow. Was that because we had just been dropped into Lusio? Maybe that’s why I’ve not seen or heard from Zeyaelid since. I’m not sure how comforted I should be from this; I feel like the moment I let my guard down is when the next catastrophe will—

A shrill scream lances through the air.

God dammit.

I raise a hand to the sand whipping against my face as I race around Poppy. Liz is on the ground, Darian helping her to her feet. Their star drake is nowhere to be seen.

“What happened?” I ask. Quell rushes up beside me.

“I—I don’t know,” Liz says, her voice shaking. She scrubs sand off her palms and knees where it had stuck from the impact. “It was so fast. There was a shadow, and then the lizard hissed, and the reins were yanked from my hands and it—it was just gone!”

A chill crawls down my back. The star drakes are huge. They probably weigh as much as an elephant. What could snatch up something like that and be gone so fast you couldn’t even see it? I squint at our surroundings, but I can’t make out anything aside from us, Earnest and Xamireb’s lizard, and the surrounding desert. In fact, I can see less now than I could a few minutes ago. What was once miles has become reduced to a couple hundred feet. And I’d hazard a guess visibility is only going to rapidly decrease from here.

“We need to stop and wait it out,” Xamireb says, leading their drake over to the rest of us. “The storm is only going to get worse, and if we continue on, we risk getting separated.”

“No.” Even while she speaks, Darian gaze is scouring the surroundings. “If there’s a predator out here capable of plucking a star drake out from under our nose, then staying isn’t safe. We need to take shelter, yes, but somewhere defensible. We push through until we can find a rock formation to set up against.”

“I don’t like this,” Xamireb says. “I don’t understand it, but there is something wrong with this storm. With respect, Captain.”

“I understand,” she says. “But the risk of remaining in the open is too high. If it can eat a star drake in one bite, it can do the same to us.” She stops searching our surroundings and turns back to the group. “Let’s just hope that’ll keep it busy for a while. Come one. We’ve little time to waste.”

Reluctantly, we all start moving once more. The wind pulls at the Aegis and, after assuring it I would be removing it again soon, I add it back into my Inventory to avoid getting swept away. Darian and Liz walk between our two lizards. The rising howl of the wind is the only sound that accompanies us as everyone remains silent, glancing over shoulders and looking every which way. Hair rises on the back of my arms. I don’t like this.

“Do you smell that?” Quell mumbles a few minutes later. He takes a deeper breath. “What is that?”

I sniff as well, but I don’t notice anything. “Smells like dirt. Why, what do you smell?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Something… Damp, sort of.”

I frown, trying to pick out what he smells, but it’s all dust to me.

A shadow flickers in my peripheral.

“There!” I shout, spinning toward it. I summon the Aegis, and there’s the metal hiss of swords being drawn.

The Aegis happily looks around. Is it time to defeat something?

But there’s nothing there. Only curtains of sandy wind, swirling all around us.

“What is it?” Darian calls from ahead.

I falter. “I thought I saw something.”

I nudge the Aegis, but it’s sad to report it can’t find any potential threats. Unless we wanted to fight that dhampyr again.

“But I…” Maybe it was just another whirl of sand. But my gut doesn’t think so. Goosebumps prickle up and down my arm. What’s going on here?

“Keep moving,” Darian shouts. “I think I see an outcrop ahead. We’ll pause there.”

“Xamireb’s right,” Quell says to me as we nervously press forward. “I can sense something, too.”

Nervously, I slip the Aegis back into my Inventory once more.

Echo, Check, I think, glancing around my surroundings. Maybe she can see something I can’t.

[The Gilded Desert,] she reports. [Infused with life arcana from the Lifespring Oasis, the desert is often populated by creatures mutated by Life arcanum that has leaked into the surrounding land.]

That tells me nothing I didn’t already know. Except that she doesn’t see any animals around, I guess. What about this sandstorm? I think. Is it magical?

[Affirmative,] Echo says. [Life arcanum is infused with the sand that the wind has carried into the air.]

Still nothing I don’t already know. I’ll have to wait until I can get a good look at whatever is stalking us—though by then, it might be too late.

“Ah, I think I’ve found it!” Xamireb’s voice is muted, cutting in and out as the wind carries the words away from us. “The ground here—”

“Watch out!”

I snap my head up, squinting through the hissing dim. I can’t see anything. The curtains of sand are getting denser, stinging like ants as they batter my skin.

Someone cries out.

“Earnest!”

A gust of wind crashes into me, knocking me into Poppy. Quell also yelps, clutching her reins, and we both duck our heads and hold our breath as sand blasts into us. It doesn’t last more than ten, fifteen seconds. But when I look back up, everyone in front of us has vanished. No star drake, no Darian, no princess or soldiers.

Quell and I are alone.