Kaelen trudged through the vast desert, each step sinking slightly into the shifting sands beneath him. The warm desert wind howled around him, carrying fine grains of sand that stung his face and clung to his tattered clothes. He squinted against the relentless gusts, his eyes burning from the irritation, but he pressed forward, undeterred.

The heat of the rising sun was beginning to intensify, but Kaelen hardly noticed. He had always felt strangely disconnected from the extremes of temperature—a trait that had made the brutal conditions of his former life more bearable. Even now, as the dry wind whipped across his exposed skin and the sun climbed higher, his focus remained fixed on the horizon.

The desert stretched endlessly before him, an unforgiving sea of dunes with no visible sign of civilization. His lips were cracked, his throat parched from the lack of water, yet Kaelen's mind was sharp, driven by the need to survive. The weight of the greatsword resting on his shoulder felt more like a reminder than a burden—a symbol of the promise he'd made to himself. He would live. He would find Alexander. And when the time came, he would take everything from the man who had taken everything from him.

Each gust of wind brought the faintest sound of something in the distance, but Kaelen remained vigilant, aware that the desert was full of predators, both beast and man. He scanned the dunes for any signs of danger, his grip tightening on the sword hilt.

As he continued his march, a distant shape finally appeared—little more than a dark smudge against the golden horizon. A flicker of hope stirred in his chest. It could be shelter, a sign of life, or perhaps just another cruel mirage. Whatever it was, Kaelen had no choice but to press on. His legs ached, his body screamed for rest, but he had come too far to stop now.

The journey ahead was uncertain, but Kaelen knew one thing for sure: he had escaped the life of a slave, and nothing would stop him from becoming the master of his own fate.

Kaelen approached the dark smudge on the horizon, and as he drew closer, the shapes of buildings began to form, slowly rising from the heat-blurred distance. The sight of civilization, however small, sent a surge of adrenaline through him. He quickened his pace, almost breaking into a sprint as the silhouettes of trees also came into view. An oasis? A settlement? Either way, it meant shelter, water, and perhaps a path forward.

But just as he was closing in, Kaelen skidded to a halt. Something moved ahead, shifting in the low light of the morning sun. His heart pounded as his eyes locked onto a humanoid figure in the distance. It was not a man. Standing on two legs, the creature was covered in thick fur, its limbs long and powerful, with sharp claws extending from its hands. A pair of glowing yellow eyes scanned the area, though it had not noticed him yet.

Kaelen's instincts took over, and he immediately dropped to the sand, his body pressed low against the shifting ground. He stilled his breath, peering up just enough to keep the creature in sight. His pulse thudded in his ears as he watched, assessing the creature's movements. It seemed to be patrolling the outskirts of the settlement, perhaps a guard or a predator staking out its territory.

His fingers tightened around the hilt of his greatsword, but he resisted the urge to move. He had no idea how many of these creatures were nearby, or if they were hostile. One wrong move could be fatal. Kaelen's mind raced with possibilities. Should he wait for the creature to move on and sneak past, or should he prepare to confront it if necessary?

Stolen novel; please report.

The desert wind picked up again, blowing sand across the landscape and providing Kaelen with a momentary cover. He weighed his options, his body tense and ready to spring into action if needed. One thing was certain: if he wanted to survive, he had to choose carefully.

Kaelen studied the creature carefully. It was a gnoll, a creature born from hyenas, walking on two legs like men but with wild, animalistic features. Gnolls were as intelligent as humans, though their nature often led them to scavenging or mercenary work. Even the more civilized among them were known to be ruthless, and Kaelen couldn't afford to underestimate this one.

He hoped reasoning was an option. Water was close, and dehydration wasn't something he wanted to contend with. With caution, he unwrapped his shirt and draped it over the blade of his greatsword, holding it in a way that showed he had no intention of fighting. Slowly, he approached.

The gnoll finally noticed him. Its yellow eyes locked onto Kaelen, and it tensed, gripping its spear tighter. It took a few cautious steps forward, its nose twitching as it sniffed the air. The beast raised its spear slightly, ready for any sudden movement, then barked something guttural.

"Vakthir na'zan?" the gnoll growled, its voice rough but intelligible. Kaelen froze, recognizing the language instantly. Dusttongue—the language of his people, the language his mother had spoken. Though she had never been fluent in common, she had taught him Dusttongue as his first language, even if he hadn't used it much since her death.

The gnoll was asking why he was here.

Kaelen hesitated, gathering his thoughts. This was a rare chance. The gnoll might have come from a tribe that still roamed the deserts—gnolls and humans weren't enemies by default, after all. He swallowed, forcing himself to remain calm, then responded in Dusttongue, his voice dry from days of little water.

"I seek shelter," he said, his voice careful and respectful. "And water. I mean no harm."

The gnoll's ears flicked, and it tilted its head, studying Kaelen more closely.

The gnoll's eyes scanned Kaelen's form, lingering on his large frame, the faint glow of his red eyes, and his skin, nearly the same shade as the desert sand. After a moment, the creature's spear lowered slightly. When it spoke again, the voice was softer and calmer, making Kaelen realize she was female.

"Come forth, brother of the sand," she said, her tone no longer aggressive but welcoming. "Though your blood is not pure, you will find no trouble among us."

Kaelen exhaled in relief. It seemed, for now at least, he had avoided a fight. He slowly approached, still wary but less tense, keeping his eyes on the gnoll as he stepped closer.

She led Kaelen into the village, offering him a waterskin after noticing his parched voice and cracked lips. Grateful, he took a long drink, the cool liquid soothing his throat. As he looked around, Kaelen observed the village's unique construction. The houses were crafted from enormous bones and hides of creatures he didn't recognize. Despite the primitive materials, the structures were sturdy and well-made.

Kaelen wiped his mouth, feeling the tension in his body ease slightly. The female gnoll led him into her home and began to speak once more. "Ah, I am Zharaith. What is your name, young warrior? How did you find yourself lost in the sands?"

Kaelen placed his sword against a table before responding, recalling the words in Dusttounge. "I am Kaelen I was enslaved by Dra'khel, but wyverns attacked the mine where I worked. They killed the people keeping me in chains, and I took the first chance I got to escape. I didn't have much of a plan, though. So now I'm here."

Zharaith adopted an understanding expression. "Dra'khel call our people savages, but I have witnessed the horrors of a Dra'khel slave camp." She took the water skin back from him, her eyes steady. "Well, now that we've helped you, Kaelen, you must earn your keep. We will go hunting tomorrow. I assume that blade is more than just a decoration for your back."