Nathan ran out into the growing storm, his feet pounding against the ground. Sand whipped against his skin, and rocks flew through the air. In the distance, lightning cracked like a whip.

He squinted. Nothing.

This was bad. Priya was out there somewhere, lost in the middle of the desert, and he had no idea where to find her. What was he going to tell her father? That he’d lost her in the storm? That she might not make it back? No. Absolutely not.

But the Dustend was closing in fast. Each second felt like a countdown in his head, a relentless, echoing tick, tick, tick. Sweat ran down his neck, drenching him as he pushed forward.

Suddenly, a faint cry broke through the wind. He turned sharply to the left and saw a small figure in the distance.

He ran forward.

His heels dug into the sand, propelling him forward as fast as he could. Every second counted. The storm was nearly on top of them and he could smell the ozone in the air.

“Priya!” he shouted. “Over here!”

Priya turned, her eyes red from the swirling sand.

“Nathan? I’m sorry! I just wanted to go outside, and then I got lost! I don’t know what happened—”

“It’s okay. I understand. Just come with me.”

She nodded hesitantly and stepped toward him. When she grabbed his hand, her grip was like a vice.

Nathan glanced back toward the house. It was far, too far. Getting back would be tricky—the storm was nearly upon them, and carrying a child would make it even harder.

But he had to try.

“Hold on tight and don’t let go,” he said. “If you get lost again, I might not be able to find you.”

Priya froze, then nodded rapidly. “I promise. I won’t let go.”

They barely had a moment before the storm hit. Priya ducked against Nathan’s chest, and he squinted ahead, straining to see the house. It wasn’t far—a few minutes away at most—but with the dust kicking up, it might as well have been miles.

He moved his feet and walked forward.

The wind howled, and each step felt like trudging through quicksand. The sand lashed at his exposed skin, each grain a tiny needle. He winced and wrapped his arms around Priya to protect her.

Then he heard it. A low, guttural groan in the distance. His heart thudded in his chest. He turned his head and saw them: two glowing red eyes piercing through the haze, watching his every move. He’d seen those eyes before, the first time he’d encountered the Dustend—and again, the last time he barely escaped it. His stomach twisted. Whatever it was, it was dangerous. He couldn’t fight it now, not with Priya on his back.

He forced himself to focus.

The house. Get to the house.

The wind screamed louder, the sand stabbing harder.

“Hold on a second,” he muttered.

Priya peeked up at him, her face streaked with dirt and tears.

Nathan extended his right hand, calling on his magic. A moment later, a shimmering blue shield of water sprang to life around them. The storm’s fury battered against it, but the barrier held. For now.

“What happened?” Priya asked.

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“A shield. Hopefully it’ll last—“

It cracked.

And the red eyes? They were closer now. The Dustend roared louder, and the fractures in the shield spread like spiderwebs. Nathan tightened his grip on Priya. He forced his feet forward, digging into the sand with every step. The house was in sight. Just a little farther.

The shield shattered. Pain sliced across his skin, deeper than physical—like something tearing into his very essence. He gritted his teeth and pushed on. He could see the door. Just a few more steps.

Nathan barreled through the doorway, slamming it shut behind him.

“Abaya! Where are you?” Priya shouted, her voice raw.

Nathan’s eyes scanned the room, landing on a wooden door with a latch set into the floor. The house shuddered under the storm’s assault, the walls creaking, bits of wood splintering away. He lunged forward, pulled the trapdoor open, and jumped into the bunker below.

“Priya! You’re okay!”

Sumita rushed forward, pulling Priya from Nathan’s arms. She inspected the child, wiping her tears and dust-covered face.

“My dear, you’re safe now,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Abaya stepped forward, his jaw dropped. His gaze shifted between Priya and Nathan.

“You actually brought her back,” he said.

Nathan opened his mouth to answer, but a shudder wracked his body. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor.

Priya’s scream tore through the air. “Nathan?”

The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was their faces—anxious, scared, and hovering over him as his world went black.

----------------------------------------

Nathan woke up, as he usually did.

Two times in two days. This is starting to become a pattern.

That stunt earlier with the spring had already pushed his limits, and then he’d thrown the Tidal Shield against the Dustend itself. That seemed to be the tipping point. No wonder the skill hadn’t lasted long, he’d been running on fumes the whole time.

“Water,” he croaked. “Can somebody please get me some water?”

Sumita walked over and sighed. She grabbed a cup from a nearby shelf and handed it to him.

“Here you go, Nathan.”

Nathan took the cup from her hand and drank greedily. As the cool liquid slid down his throat, he sat up, looking around. “Why are we still in the bunker?”

Sumita shook her head. “The house is destroyed,” she said. “Some of our things survived, but we couldn’t let you stay out there, exposed to the elements. It wouldn’t have been right.”

Nathan rubbed his eyes. “How long was I out?”

“A little while,” Sumita said. “But you need to rest more. I can’t believe you survived exposure to the Dustend, let alone got my daughter back. You need to recover.”

Nathan pushed the blanket off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I really shouldn’t impose any further.”

Sumita’s eyes widened. “Hospitality? Are you kidding? You saved my daughter!”

“Please, don’t worry about it. I was just helping out.”

Sumita looked like she wanted to argue further, but she pressed her lips together and said nothing. Nathan stood fully, steadying himself before climbing the steps out of the bunker.

What he saw horrified him.

Everything that had once been there, including the new additions to Nathan’s farm, was completely destroyed. The house was torn to shreds, random pieces of furniture scattered across the ground. The walls were almost nonexistent. Outside, the irrigation ditches Nathan had painstakingly built were gone, buried under the sand. Nathan felt a deep ache in his chest.

In the distance, he spotted Abaya, who had tools in hand and was already working to repair the fields. Nathan walked over to him.

“Abaya.”

Abaya froze mid-swing.

“It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?” he said. “Just when our family had some hope, along comes the storm. And now we’ll have to start all over again.”

“No, you’re not,” Nathan said firmly.

Abaya turned, his expression hollow. “I suppose you’re going to fix this?” he asked. “But you don’t understand. Even if you fix it, it’ll just happen again. And even if it doesn’t hit us, it’ll hit my daughter someday. This place is cursed. There’s no hope here.”

A heavy silence fell between them. Nathan bit his bottom lip. Abaya seemed to realize what he’d said and stepped back.

“Forgive me,” Abaya said quietly. “I’m not sure where that came from.”

“It’s not your fault. I understand where you’re coming from.”

In the end, Nathan summoned the workers from his Soulbound town and began rebuilding the farm. But there was a distinct air of futility to it all. Abaya was right. Even if Nathan fixed everything, he was only patching up the problem. It was only a matter of time until another attack came.

By the time he finished, Nathan sat out on the dunes, staring at the setting sun. His eyelids burned, but he ignored it, lost in thought.

Then he heard a voice.

“You are the one known as Nathan Lee, correct?”

Nathan turned, startled. He’d been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed an entire regiment of troops approaching, flanking a palanquin. Nathan raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m Nathan Lee,” he said.

The soldier inclined his head. “Someone wishes to see you.”

Nathan shrugged, standing to follow. As he approached the palanquin, he noticed its luxurious design: fine silks, vibrant colors from expensive dyes, and not a trace of wear or poverty. The hood of the palanquin opened, revealing none other than Zayen.

“Nathan Lee,” Zayen said. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for quite some time. Please, come inside, and let us speak.”