Texts dating back roughly to when Al-Talash still stood proud speak of a paradise within the desert, an oasis within the endless expanse of sand. Yet, mutated aberrations have been roaming the Crimson Dunes for centuries now, with inexplicable natural phenomena rendering the region completely inhospitable.

Studies conclude the longer a subject is within the Dunes, the more drastic are the changes to mind and body. So far, not a single scholar venturing into the Crimson Dunes came back unscathed, sporting changes that may only be explained through a leak of unknown magical energy into the environment.

From Origins of the Crimson Dunes, written by Tamim Ka-Nur

They stopped in front of a large, metal trapdoor set into the stone of the alley.

“Where does this lead to?”

The Drakh looked at him with a deadpan expression. “What does it look like?”

Silas groaned as he helped pull the heavy metal door open. “I’m Silas, by the way.”

“Nurana,” came from below as she climbed down the ladder and into the sewer. Silas did not like the smells coming from down there. There was a reason he preferred the countryside.

Zaya was the next to climb down. “Name be Zaya, of tribe Naija.”

“Nice to meet you, Zaya of tribe Naija.”

“Creak.” Gnarly introduced himself.

Nurana cocked her head. “Nice to meet you, …”

“His name is Gnarly.”

“Nice to meet you, Gnarly,” Nurana said with a smile.

“Creak,” Gnarly voiced, dipping his head.

The tall woman peered into the dim corridor. A small stream with a distinctive brownish tint flowed between two narrow pathways. “This sewer is connected to the moat.” She paused for a moment. “Technically, this stream should lead us right to it,” she said, her words echoing into the darkness of the tunnel.

“Are there any dangerous creatures down here?” Silas asked as he covered his mouth with a piece of cloth. The smell made him gag.

Nurana hesitated. “There shouldn’t be.”

“Can you fight?” Silas pulled out his spear. Better safe than sorry.

Something flickered in Nurana’s eyes. “No. I’m a healer.”

“Then why did the Mages want to kill you?” Not many had an affinity related to healing, and that the Guild would send its Mages to kill one was… odd, to say the least.

Nurana squinted her eyes at him. “Do they need a reason?”

A moment of silence passed as Silas and Nurana stared at each other.

“No waste time. Need go,” Zaya interrupted their staring contest. Sooner or later, someone would see the opened entrance and connect the dots.

Nobody spoke as they followed the corridor, its smooth stone surface leading them further down. The small flame of the oil lantern threw flickers of feeble light over the walls, and yellow eyes glinted at them from the shadows. Derot-sized rats lurked in every corner, and Silas caught a glimpse of a long, thick tail as one of the rats skittered away. Raising the lamp higher, he spotted more paths branching off the main corridor, most of them collapsed.

After some time, a half-crumbled stone archway standing over the stream greeted their sight. Silas and Zaya shared a look. Intricate symbols were carved into every inch of the archway, and rectangular patterns embellished the walls behind it.

“I don’t think this is part of the original city. These symbols… The Yucahue must have built this.” After their eventful night in the tower, Silas had finally gotten around to read a few pages of the history part in Tom’s booklet. A chapter of it had been dedicated to the Yucahue, the ancient culture that had supposedly emigrated to Ceraviehl two millennia ago.

Nurana’s nodded as her eyes traced the symbols. “Yes. Kuzant was built right on top of it, but the lower part of the city is believed to be as old as Al-Talash.”

The lost city of the Drakh had mysteriously disappeared over a thousand years ago, lost somewhere in the Endless Desert. Although its inventions were spread throughout the whole continent, no one had managed to find the city. Zaya played with a stone in her hand. “Sure no be creatures here?”

“I never said I was sure,” Nurana replied in a low voice.

Silas threw her a glare. This couldn’t possibly end well. Nurana held a hand up in defense. “However, if we stick to the stream, we should probably be fine.”

“You not be very convincing.” Zaya added.

“It’s too late now, anyway,” Silas said as he passed the archway. “Let’s just hope we’re not being followed.”

They stopped before a junction a while later where the stream divided itself into four different paths. Two went off to each side while the others went vaguely straight ahead.

“The moat should be in this direction,” Nurana pointed towards the right tunnel.

“What if you’re wrong?”

“Then we go back and take the other one,” she replied, irritated.

Silas grunted, leading the way. Crumbled stairs snaked their way downwards. Every step kicked up clouds of dust, and parts of the walls had already collapsed onto the stairway. A fresh breeze grazed Silas’ neck. He turned his head, noticing a huge hole in the right part of the wall. There was no stone behind it, just emptiness.

They stopped, each one trying to peer through the darkness. Silas held the lantern through the hole. The weak flame vainly tried to illuminate the gloom, yet the only thing they could see were large pillars holding the stairway under them, their white stone descending so far into the darkness they couldn’t see the bottom. Zaya picked up a large rock and let it fall. Each of them held their breath as they waited for the sound of it hitting the bottom.

It never came.

“I wonder what’s down there.”

“Let’s not find out,” Nurana replied, edging away from the opening.

“Creak.” Gnarly seemed to agree with her.

The stairway eventually opened up into a long, rectangular chamber. A massive statue of a regal woman stood on a pedestal at the far end, arms held out as if inviting them to take one of the two passages going off to each side. It reminded Silas of the statue in the tower they had slept in a couple of fortnights back. This had to be more than a sewer system. If this was a chamber of worship, people had to have lived here, once.

Silas took a look at the ceiling and let out a sigh of relief when nothing stared back at him. The stream from the stairway trickled into a perfectly round pond that lay just in front of the pedestal. The pond sucked in the sparse light of the chamber, its waters seeming too thick, like tar.

The group stopped right in front of the pond, its surface completely smooth.

“This place is just getting weirder,” Silas commented.

“Where go now?” Zaya asked Nurana.

“The end of the sewer should be in this direction,” Nurana said, pointing at path on her right. “However, since the stream seems to stop here, it might also be a good idea to backtrack.”

Broken, rusted metal rods lay in the left hallway, a depiction of what might have once been a city engraved above the doorway. With a start, Silas realized some of the pieces weren’t bits of metal. A human skull looked back at him from the corner, its empty sockets sending a shiver down his spine.

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“Creak.” Silas noticed Gnarly staring down at the pitch-black pond. Something about it seemed to seriously disturb his wooden friend. “Creak, creak.” Gnarly pulled on his hair to steer him away from the pond. Silas took a cautious step back.

“What is it?” Nurana asked.

“I don’t know, but something is wro—”

A long, black tentacle shot out of the pond and wrapped itself around Silas’ leg. Gnarly was the first to react, shooting a small wooden lance that nailed the tentacle to the stone. Silas raised his spear just as more appendages emerged from the pond, each one thicker than the one before. Zaya and Nurana tried to get away, but the oily feelers were too fast. Wrapping themselves around their ankles, Nurana and Zaya fell as the tentacles jerked and started to pull them into the pond.

Silas lunged forward, his arms flaring with energy as he slashed downwards. Zaya squashed the remaining tentacles with a couple of heavy rocks and immediately began to scramble away from the pitch-black pond.

As one, a mass of tentacles shot out of it, taking up most of the chamber and blocking the exit. Whatever this creature was, they couldn’t beat it. They hadn’t even seen its actual body. The only thing they could do was escape.

“Zaya!” Nurana pointed first at the statue, then at the pond. “The statue. Bring it down!”

Holding both arms in front of her, Zaya began to pull with her Art. Stone cracked as her fingers trembled from the exertion. Gnarly and Silas stood in front of her, trying to keep the tentacles at bay. His arrows were close to useless, and severing long feelers turned out to be pretty difficult with his spear. Gnarly seemed to be better off, however. His wooden friend had grown to almost twice its original size, now being almost as big as Silas himself.

Gnarly’s arms had transformed into thick, long vines that slapped the tentacles left and right. Thorns stuck out of the vines everywhere, ripping at the appendages with each swing. Black liquid fizzled as it dropped onto the stone. Almost every inch of the chamber was covered in black, slithering tentacles. They even crawled along the ceiling, their sharp ends tentatively reaching towards Zaya.

Pushing as much energy into his spear as he dared without losing control, Silas swung upwards. Tar-like blood rained down on him, and his whole body felt like it was aflame. Severed tentacles spasmed as they fell to the ground and continued to make their way towards the group.

Some of them almost reached Zaya, and Silas stepped in front of her and swiped them away with his spear. It all depended on her, now. If she couldn’t block the pond with the statue, they wouldn’t make it out. Silas’ leg buckled as one of the tentacles sliced through his leg. Hot, scorching pain shot through his body. Muscles cramping, his vision began to swim before his eyes. Poison.

Somewhere to his left, Zaya screamed.

The pedestal let out a series of cracks as the statue toppled over. Both its arms shattered as it fell head-first into the mass of writhing tentacles, squashing them underneath its weight. The whole chamber erupted in motion as every single tentacle twitched uncontrollably, their sharp ends slicing into each other and dropping black blood everywhere. Silas vaguely felt the liquid burning through his cloak as he collapsed.

“We need to get out, now,” Nurana gestured towards the exit.

Zaya put an arm under Silas’ shoulder, trying to heave him up. “Help me carry him!”

The Drakh threw one more glance at the exit before carrying Silas towards the stairs. They had just reached the end of the room when the statue was being pushed away from the pond. As one, the tentacles surged at the group. Zaya hastily erected a stone barricade as Nurana dragged Silas up the steps. The walls shook as an ear-piercing screech tore through the water, bringing him back to the present.

Legs shaking, he stumbled his way up. Zaya followed behind him, raining down rocks on the few tentacles that managed to crawl up the steps. It was only when they had reached the end of the stairs that the last of the tentacles stopped pursuing them.

Silas slumped against the wall, his breath coming in short gasps. Blurry images danced in front of his eyes, and somebody kept calling his name. He tried to answer, yet his mouth wouldn’t obey him. A wave of cold rushed up his leg and spread through his body.

“Silas. Silas, wake up,” Zaya slapped him on the cheek.

The erratic beating of his heart calmed, his muscles relaxing. “It’s ok, you can stop hitting me now,” he mumbled as his vision cleared. Faces mere inches apart, he was confused to see Zaya’s emerald eyes wet with emotion. A tense moment passed as she held his gaze. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

Zaya slapped him again, a bit softer this time. “Just want make sure you’re awake.”

“Mmhmm,” Silas grumbled. Nurana slouched against the opposite wall, thick beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. “Thank you for healing me,” he said.

“You’re not fully healed, yet. I managed to suppress parts of the poison and close the wound, but it’s still in you.”

“What even was that creature?” Silas glanced down the stairway, the gloomy darkness obscuring his vision.

“I don’t know if it has a name,” Nurana shook her head. “Something about this place just feels… wrong. Creatures like these shouldn’t exist, this close to the city. I don’t want to think about what would happen if it ever decides to crawl out of its hole,” the Drakh shivered. “They must know what’s down here, so why don’t they send a squad of Mages to clear it out?”

Silas shrugged. “Maybe it’s not worth the effort.”

“Maybe,” Nurana replied, frowning.

With a groan, Silas righted himself. He still felt a bit weak from the poison, but they needed to get out of Kuzant as soon as possible. After all, the Guild was probably already looking for them. Choosing the left path this time, they continued their way, albeit slower this time. The path twisted and turned in seemingly random patterns, but with every corner, the stream seemed to gain more momentum. They had to be close to the moat.

To their left, a large room opened up. A massive, round stone table stood in the middle of it, covered in unknown markings. Discarded metal tools lay scattered all over it, orange rust flaking off the devices like leaves from a tree. Silas thought he saw a large, white cocoon hanging from the ceiling.

They gave the room a wide berth.

The faint sound of crashing water soon accompanied the soft bicker of the stream. To their surprise, the tunnel simply stopped, the stream flowing through an old metal lattice at the end of it.

“If we can somehow make a gap in the lattice to crawl through, we can jump right into the moat and hopefully pass the walls without being seen.”

“What? Moat be half water, half piss. I no jump in there.” Zaya crossed her arms as she glared up at Nurana.

“You’re pretty spoiled for a barbarian.”

“And you’re pretty stupid, even for greenlander.”

Silas and Zaya glared at each other, a fight ready to break out at a moment’s notice. A few loose pebbles around Zaya started shaking. Silas gripped his spear tighter. If she was still angry about what he said about her people being responsible for this war, so be it. Silas meant every word.

“Stop acting like a married couple and let’s figure out how to get out of here, shall we?” Nurana interrupted their staring contest.

“Listen to wind too much, Nura Kana? I no marry little boys.” Zaya shifted her angry glare at Nurana, who backed away, palms held up.

“Will you stop it already?” Silas forced out.

Zaya cocked an eyebrow at him. “Or what?”

“Creak, creak!” Gnarly jumped on Nurana’s shoulder to look down at Zaya and Silas in turn.

Nurana coughed into the awkward silence. “We can also try our luck in one of the other hallways.”

“Not a good idea,” Silas said as he glanced behind them. “I’m not fond of it either, but this might be our best shot.” He pointed at the lattice. “Can you loosen the stone around it so we can pull it out?”

Zaya shot Silas an irritated look. “Of course, this no be difficult.”

A moment of silence passed as none of them said anything. Both Nurana and Silas looked at Zaya expectantly. The small girl eventually relented with a grunt. “Fine.”

Trying to ignore the stench of the water, they climbed out of the moat in near silence. Silas carefully looked up, seeing a few flickering torches atop the walls. If they were seen now, all would have been in vain.

The residual darkness of the late night sheltered them from the patrols above as they walked back towards the Hills of the Kila’tor. Although they didn’t have the goods the elder wanted, at least they had gotten some money. Silas just hoped it would be enough for Zaya’s family to be accepted into their valley.

“Once we reach the fork, I will make my way south.” Nurana declared.” Maybe they’ll accept me in Nu-Taquim. Would be nice to see the capital of my people.”

Silas hesitated for a moment. “I wanted to go there as well, after meeting with someone from the Kila’tor at the base of the Hills. We could go there together if you don’t mind the detour.”

“What about you, Zaya?” The Drakh asked.

“I need to go back to family.”

“Creak?” Gnarly looked up at Zaya, his head reaching just over her waist.

“What he say?” she asked, petting the sticks bobbling on his head.

Silas hesitated. “He… he asks if you’re coming with us after seeing your family.”

“Rather fifty places in a year than fifty years in one place,” she shrugged. “I will decide after I see my family, alright my friend?”

“Creak!”

Zaya turned her head, a smile playing across her features. The sky slowly began to light up as the sun peeked over the tips of the eastern mountains, basking the plains and fields in a soft marigold glow. Silas wondered what it would look like in the desert. Something from far away caught his eye. A group of people on horseback, heading in their direction.

“Do you see this?”

Nurana cursed. “Invokers. They’ll see us with the break of dawn, if not earlier. We need to take cover somewhere.”

“There is nothing but open fields for miles.”

Zaya gestured to the south. “There be mountains.”

With no other options left, they decided to try and reach the southern mountains before dawn broke, neither of them speaking a word as they ran on. There was no way they’d survive a fight with a squad from the Legion’s Invokers. Getting captured would be a luxury.

The morning sun came too early, washing the fields in bright light and eliminating what little cover the night had given them. Silas looked over his shoulder as dread drilled its way into his bones. The patrol was heading straight at them.

They had been seen.

“I apologize for dragging you into this. You guys are way too young to be chased by a squad of Invokers,” Nurana huffed.

“You can’t be that much older than us.”

“I’m eighteen summers.”

Silas raised his chin. “Sixteen, so what?”

“Fifteen, and stronger than both of you,” Zaya declared.

Silas barked a laugh. “You wish.”

“Want see, little boy?”

“Not my—"

“Later, maybe?” Nurana interrupted their bickering. “Let’s focus on escaping, for now.”

Ahead of them, the southern mountain range snaked its way from east to west, serving as a natural border between Ceraviehl and the Endless Desert. The mountain range was littered with trails connecting Ceraviehl to the territory of the Drakh. However, few people dared make their way through the mountain range. Not only was it easy to get lost in the deceptive maze of twisting forks and paths, but some of the trails led to a region that was rarely spoken about, even among the Drakh: the Crimson Dunes.