With only a few strides, Lysbelle reached one of the empty wagons left for the convoy’s victims to awaken in peace. Two warriors, posted as night guards, were already attending to the child.

“Azel!”

Her voice, filled with joy, rose to a cry as she spotted her little brother. The child who had woken up with difficulty under an unfamiliar roof had panicked before realizing that the strangers around him were nomads. As if emerging from a nightmare, he bursted into fresh tears. Hearing his sister’s voice, his eyes widened in disbelief, tears doing little to hide the stunned expression that took over his face.

The next instant, Lysbelle pulled him into a fierce hug. Caught between the terror he was emerging from and the shock of seeing his sister, whom he had believed dead, Azel began to tremble in her embrace. Then, he dissolved into tears once more. Her own tears of relief joined his, and it took a long while for them to calm each other.

The child’s face was drawn, cheeks hollow from hunger and crying. His red eyes bore witness to his distress, and his many injuries only heightened his frail appearance. When Lysbelle finally managed to gather herself, she spent long minutes whispering comforting words into his ear, lending the warm reassurance his weakened body so desperately needed.

When he finally fell asleep again in her arms, it was the deep, restorative rest he needed. The forced march and grueling pace imposed by his captors had thoroughly drained him, and his previous forced sleep hadn’t come close to restoring his strength. Lysbelle, in turn, held him close, letting him sleep beside her. She wouldn’t let Azel out of her sight anytime soon. Though she’d already slept part of the night, she soon drifted off by his side.

She was awakened by mingled sounds of joy and sorrow. Around her, the former captives were stirring one by one, discovering their newly improved circumstances. The shock of realization soon gave way to the joy of regained freedom. Unfortunately, bittersweet notes echoed for those who had not survived to feel it.

“Lys…”

The soft voice called out to her. Turning her head, Lysbelle once more met her little brother’s angelic face, gazing at her with wide, dark eyes. His jet-black hair framed his face, his small, upturned nose adding to the expression of lingering disbelief at seeing his sister alive.

She smiled at him, speaking gently. “Yes, I came to find you.”

“But... what about the Reapers?”

The terror of those deadly creatures was still fresh in the boy’s memory, and Lysbelle wasn’t surprised he brought them up. After all, seeing her vanish in the Swarm must have been a terrible ordeal for him.

“Do you remember what I told you when I left?”

He nodded silently, recalling her promise that she would always protect him.

“Well, I’m not about to let a few bugs stop me from keeping my word.”

Lysbelle spread a wide, reassuring smile across her face, though Azel didn’t seem entirely convinced. He clung to his big sister with all his strength, holding on as though afraid she might disappear again.

“Please don’t go… I don’t want you to vanish like Mama did.”

Her heart clenched. Though she’d left Azel in the convoy to protect him, it had been a difficult choice. Now that she’d found him again, Lysbelle wasn’t sure she could make that decision a second time, no matter the circumstances.

Around them, the convoy’s guards moved quickly, gathering reinforcements; they were far from enough to manage the entire group waking up.

After a few minutes of swirling chaos, a figure appeared in the wagon—Basel, the Phoenix’s second-in-command. The man with the shaved head stepped into the middle, commanding attention before he spoke.

“My friends, please, listen to me.”

The hum of voices gradually died down as the nomads noticed the scarf tied around his arm, a sign of his authority. Few would have questioned it.

“As some of you have likely noticed, or been told, we succeeded in freeing you from the slavers, driving them back.”

A few shouts of joy rose in response, but he quieted them with a gesture.

“Unfortunately, we paid a price in blood for this victory, so I urge you to cherish the freedom that’s been returned to you.”

This time, murmurs of surprise shifted into cheers of approval. A man Lysbelle had seen among the captives stepped forward, his tall frame gaunt from hunger and exhaustion, and he questioned Basel about their situation.

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The caravan’s second-in-command answered as best he could. He explained that the Phoenix herself had insisted on the rescue attempt, assured them there was enough food and water for everyone, and shared that they were on their way to participate in the Call. That was, in fact, their current destination.

After addressing several more questions, despite the late hour, the survivors were served a hot meal.

Azel, naturally, was fed as well. Despite Lysbelle’s protests, worried he might choke, he devoured three plates before finally slowing down. He’d always had a hearty appetite, and his recent deprivation had only worsened his need for nourishment.

With the meal in full swing around the large fire Azmiyah had rekindled for the occasion, Lysbelle left briefly to fetch one of the large water jugs. On her way to the supply wagon, she heard an abrupt command.

“Stop!”

A deep voice echoed through the night—a voice she had heard not long ago. Basel was speaking to someone in a forceful tone. Though she couldn’t see him behind the wagon, it didn’t take long for the mystery to unravel as Basel resumed.

"Azmiyah, I’m not going to repeat myself again. Enough! You’re going to collapse from exhaustion if you keep this up. You must sleep and rest—it’s not negotiable."

A sharp click of her tongue echoed, and the caravan leader responded to her second.

“You don’t understand. I failed in my duty—there should never have been this many deaths.”

Lysbelle pressed her back against the wagon. Although she probably shouldn’t have been listening, her curiosity got the better of her.

“And do you think wearing yourself out is going to bring them back? Don’t be foolish. We need you to lead the caravan. If you’re not in shape to do it, who’s going to step up? You think we’ll make it if our only scout fit to guide us is out of commission?”

“But the nomads we freed cou—”

“And no way we’re relying on the nomads we just freed—they’re in no condition to help.”

Silence settled over the desert, layered under the sounds of the celebration happening a bit farther away. Just as it seemed Basel had won the argument, he spoke again.

“Fine, do whatever you want, but you’ll have to handle it yourself. You’ll be our only scout for at least two days, and Lysbelle will assist, but she’s untrained—you’ll still have to do most of the work.”

Lysbelle grimaced, realizing she’d likely be running around the desert for the next few days.

“She’ll manage—I’m not worried.” Then Azmiyah abruptly changed the topic. “Will we make it in time for the Call?”

Basel sighed.

“Yes, we’ll make it, maybe a bit late, but in time.”

The Call—Lysbelle had almost forgotten about it until overhearing this conversation. She knew it was coming, but after the past few days, it had become a faint note in her mind. The reminder stung her, though. She had no good memories of her last Call—too many people, too many stares, too much suspicion. Perhaps it was just because she’d been the center of attention, but the memory remained sour. And beyond that, knowing Tyrell might end up exiled to the Burning Mountain made her uneasy.

Deciding she’d overheard enough, Lysbelle stepped forward to continue on her way. But a final statement froze her in her tracks.

“We need to be cautious.”

“You really think it’s someone from our side?”

Intrigued, Lysbelle decided that, having already listened to most of the conversation, a few moments more wouldn’t hurt.

“Yes, they were expecting us,” Azmiyah continued. “I don’t know how or why, but it’s likely that someone among us, or someone from the Elder’s caravan, betrayed us. Either that, or we’re missing something.”

Lysbelle let out a small gasp of surprise. She had sensed something amiss with the convoy, but the idea that it could be true left her stunned. If one of their own had truly betrayed them and were discovered, banishment was inevitable.

"Then we keep this to ourselves and investigate quietly before we reach the Crimson Lands."

With those words, Lysbelle heard Basel’s footsteps fade away. She stayed still for a moment longer to be sure no one had noticed her, then resumed her walk toward the water barrel.

“Don’t make a habit of that.”

Lysbelle nearly dropped her jug at the sound of the words. Startled, she turned to find Azmiyah standing there, her crimson eyes fixed on her, her expression unreadable. Her long hair in the evening wind gave her an almost menacing air. Lysbelle, absorbed by her own fight, hadn’t seen much of Azmiyah’s combat skills at the convoy, but she didn’t doubt she’d be overpowered in seconds. After all, it already happened once.

“It’s unlikely you’re the traitor, if there even is one,” Azmiyah said, her tone icy. “After all, Tyrell’s no traitor, and he would have noticed if you had other motives. But eavesdropping is hardly polite.”

The woman looked at her with something close to disdain, perhaps due to her fatigue or the recent suspicions weighing on her mind.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

“Stop. You’ve been there since the beginning; you’d had countless chances to leave,” the Phoenix hissed. “The only reason I let you hear was that I think you could be useful. So listen carefully.”

Lysbelle scowled but nodded. She disliked Azmiyah’s tone and would’ve said as much, but she knew she had only herself to blame for ending up in this situation.

“I fully intend to discover why those scoundrels were waiting for us, so if you notice anything suspicious—from the smallest habit change to the oddest behavior—come to me directly.”

Lysbelle narrowed her eyes; Azmiyah was practically asking her to spy on the caravan. It seemed almost absurd at first, but the more she considered it, the more sense it made. She ran a hand through her hair, thought it over for a second, and agreed.

“All right, but I want to know what Basel tells you in return—I won’t stay in the dark.”

A faint smile crossed Azmiyah’s weary face.

“That’s what I like about you, Lys. You don’t lose focus. Deal.”