As the sun dipped low over the dunes, casting a golden glow across the desert sands, Malin, Maya, and Abel marched forward, their packs loaded with supplies and their spirits lifted by the prospect of adventure. The air was filled with easy banter, their conversations bouncing between teasing and laughter as they grew more comfortable in each other's company.

Maya shot a playful smirk at Malin. "So, Baker Boy," she started, emphasising his nickname with a grin, "how exactly did you pull off this whole ‘winning the Princess’s hand’ thing? I mean, a baker, of all things?"

Malin shrugged, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Simple, really. It’s all in the bread. I make the best bread in the entire kingdom—probably the multiverse, if I’m being honest."

Abel rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced. "Best bread in the kingdom? That’s a pretty big claim coming from someone who spent his days in a back-alley shop. I highly doubt your baking skills alone could win over a princess."

Maya leaned in, nudging Malin. "Actually, his bread is pretty good, Abel," she said, defending him with a lighthearted smile. “I’ve had it a few times, and I’ll admit, it’s better than most of what you’d find even in the high markets.”

Abel raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. "Well, I’m not so easily impressed. Good bread or not, that doesn’t mean you deserve to marry my sister."

Malin grinned, sensing an opportunity. "Then let’s make a deal, Prince Abel. When we get to the next city, I’ll bake you a loaf that’ll change your mind. If it’s as good as I say, you’ll give me your blessing for this whole ‘marriage’ thing."

Abel chuckled, crossing his arms. “Fine, I’ll humor you, Baker Boy. But if I’m not impressed, you’ll have to find another way to prove yourself worthy.” He extended his hand, and Malin shook it confidently.

“Deal,” Malin said, his grin widening. "And when I win, you’ll be giving me that blessing, no questions asked."

The three laughed, the lighthearted challenge bringing a renewed energy to their journey. The bond between them grew stronger with every step, the easy camaraderie filling the spaces that once held only uncertainty and distrust.

As they reached the outskirts of the city, Abel halted, his expression turning more serious. "Alright," he began, gesturing to a series of large, sturdy pens ahead, where enormous creatures with thick scales and powerful limbs were pacing back and forth. "This is new even for me, but if we want to make good time to Shar-Kesh, there’s only one option. These are Salamini Lizards.”

Malin’s jaw dropped as he took in the sight before him. These were no ordinary beasts; they were unlike anything he’d ever seen.

Each Salamini Lizard was about the size of a small horse, their bodies thick and muscular, built for both endurance and strength. Their scales were rugged, an earthy blend of ochre and sandstone hues that seemed to blend effortlessly with the desert landscape. Powerful, clawed limbs dug into the sand with ease, and their spiked tails whipped around, leaving trails in the dust.

What caught Malin’s attention the most, though, were their wings—large, leathery structures that folded along their sides, each ribbed with thick veins that looked almost like ancient, twisted roots. The wings had a rugged, weathered appearance, with small tears and scars that spoke of a life spent in the harsh desert. When the lizards extended them, it was clear these weren’t just for show; while they might not be able to fly like birds, the wings could catch the desert winds, giving the lizards a burst of speed as they glided short distances over the sands.

Abel turned to Malin, a smirk on his face as he took in Malin’s wide-eyed expression. "Impressive, aren’t they? These lizards are built for the desert—fast, resilient, and perfectly suited for this terrain. But… they’re known to be temperamental. If you’re not careful, they could easily decide you look more like food than a rider.”

Maya, looking at the creatures with both awe and a hint of trepidation, crossed her arms. “And you’re telling us we’re going to ride those?” she asked, glancing at Abel with a raised brow.

Abel nodded confidently. “If we’re serious about reaching Shar-Kesh in good time, then yes, this is our best option. Salamini Lizards can cross distances in a fraction of the time it would take on foot, and they can navigate the sands better than any horse.” He glanced back at Malin and Maya, gauging their reactions. “Trust me, I know someone here who trains them. He can help us get them under control.”

Malin, who had been staring at one particularly large lizard as it flexed its claws, let out a nervous laugh. “Right… and, uh, what happens if one of these decides to, you know, eat us?”

Abel smirked, looking over at Malin with a glint of amusement. “Then we’ll just have to hope it prefers the taste of sand.”

Maya rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. She placed a reassuring hand on Malin’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Baker Boy. If you can tame the Princess’s heart, I’m sure a lizard will be no problem.”

Malin gulped, exchanging a nervous glance with Maya. “Well,” he said, forcing a brave smile, “I guess if I can handle Nahra’s dad, I can handle a giant lizard, right?”

Abel smirked, his confidence unwavering. “Let’s hope you’re as good with these lizards as you are with bread, Malin. We’ll need all the luck we can get.”

Abel led Malin and Maya to a modest hut near the lizard pens, where they were greeted by the Tamer, a stout dwarven man with a thick beard and sun-weathered skin. He wore loose, sand-coloured clothing, adorned with a belt filled with small tools and pouches that jingled softly as he moved. His sharp eyes narrowed as he took in the three travellers, his gaze lingering on the unfamiliar faces of Malin and Maya.

Abel explained the situation, detailing their need for the Salamini Lizards to make the dangerous trek to Shar-Kesh. The Tamer listened, crossing his arms and looking unimpressed.

“These lizards aren’t for joyrides,” he said gruffly. “They’re valuable creatures. Not the kind you take out for a casual trek across the desert.”

Malin, sensing the hesitation, stepped forward and presented the knife he’d received from the Sultan. The sun caught the emblem etched into the blade, and Malin held it up confidently. “This is from the Sultan himself. We’re on a mission of royal importance.”

The Tamer looked at the knife, then let out a short, dismissive huff, rolling his eyes. “Royal or not, these lizards are my livelihood. If one of them dies out there, it’s my neck on the line.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, eyeing Malin. “I’ll agree to this, but on one condition. You’ll need to sign a contract, one that says the Sultan will cover any losses. And… I want three more of these beasts as compensation, just in case.”

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Malin turned to Maya, his expression unsure. “Should I really sign this?”

Maya chuckled, giving him a reassuring nudge. “The Sultan has more wealth than he knows what to do with. Trust me, Baker Boy, he won’t mind a few extra lizards if it means helping his ‘future son-in-law’.” She winked, making Malin blush slightly but nod in agreement.

He signed the contract, and the Tamer, now a little more cooperative, led them to the pens where the lizards awaited. As they approached, the Tamer gestured to several lizards that seemed smaller and leaner than the others, each one adorned with a distinctive coloured stripe running along its back.

“These here are younger,” the Tamer explained. “They’re faster than the older ones, but a bit more spirited. Each is named by the color of its stripe. Yellow, Blue, Red… you get the idea. They’re quick and agile, but they need a firm hand to gain their trust.”

Malin eyed the creatures thoughtfully. The one with the yellow stripe had a vibrant energy to it, its scales glinting in the sunlight as it watched him with curious eyes. He felt an immediate pull toward it. “I’ll take Yellow,” he announced.

Maya approached a lizard with a deep blue stripe, its sleek body exuding a calm but intense focus. She nodded with approval. “Blue looks like my kind of ride.”

Abel smirked, striding up to the lizard marked with a bold red stripe. It stood taller than the others, exuding strength and confidence, much like its new rider. “Red suits me just fine.”

The Tamer nodded approvingly, then began to instruct them on how to gain the lizards’ trust. He demonstrated the correct approach, explaining that patience and respect were essential. “You don’t just hop on one of these creatures,” he said firmly. “They’ve got a spirit to them. You have to show them you’re worth their time.”

Malin reached out cautiously toward Yellow, letting the lizard sniff his hand. He could feel his nerves tingling as he looked into its sharp eyes, willing himself to stay calm. Slowly, he ran his hand along its scales, speaking softly to it, feeling a connection begin to form.

Maya, with her usual grace, approached Blue with a calm confidence. She extended her hand, letting the lizard get a sense of her before she gently stroked its neck. Blue’s eyes softened, a small rumble of contentment escaping from it as it accepted her touch.

Abel, on the other hand, took a different approach. He strode up to Red with a bold stance, his hand steady as he held it out. The lizard eyed him warily, and for a moment, there was a silent challenge between them. But Abel held his ground, his gaze unyielding, and after a tense moment, Red gave a low snort, seemingly impressed with its new rider’s confidence.

The Tamer watched them all with a careful eye, nodding approvingly. “Not bad for first-timers. These lizards will test you, but if you’ve earned their trust, they’ll be loyal companions on your journey. Just remember—respect them, and they’ll respect you.”

With their mounts now chosen and a newfound sense of connection with the creatures, the trio prepared for the next leg of their journey, excitement and anticipation pulsing through each of them. Together, they would face the desert on the backs of these powerful lizards, ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.

Bazzle strolled into the palace with his usual air of mockery and nonchalance, his boots echoing against the marble floor. He found Aza in his private chamber, brooding by a massive, glass-paneled wall that overlooked the sprawling city below. But instead of looking out at his potential kingdom, Aza seemed lost in frustration, his fingers drumming impatiently on the arm of his chair, his lips pressed into a tight line.

"Finally, you’re back," Aza snapped, not even turning to greet his friend. His voice was filled with thinly-veiled annoyance. "I assume you've spoken to the men. They understand what’s at stake, yes? Because I’m growing sick of these delays. That… baker boy and his little band of followers are like gnats that refuse to be swatted away.”

Bazzle smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he approached, though he could sense the dark storm in Aza’s tone. “Oh, believe me, dear Aza, I’ve spoken to our forces. I told them in no uncertain terms that these pests are not to leave the sands alive. Our men are strategically positioned along the path to Carabesh. By the time that foolish baker reaches the city—if he even makes it that far—he’ll be walking into an ambush from which he’ll never return.”

Aza’s fingers stopped drumming, but the tension in his posture didn’t ease. He clenched his jaw, his gaze hardening. “Good. I want him gone, Bazzle. I want him erased from existence, and I want the kingdoms to understand the consequences of opposing us. These… games are tiresome, and we cannot afford distractions. Our Lord’s patience is not boundless, nor is mine.”

Bazzle raised an eyebrow, taking in the sight of Aza’s clenched fists and the restless anger simmering beneath his composed exterior. "Impatience does not suit you, my friend," he drawled, his voice almost teasing. "Though, I do admit, I find it charming when you get all worked up. As if we don’t have the power to crush them in an instant."

Aza turned sharply, his eyes flashing with irritation. "This isn't a game, Bazzle. Every day that Malin and his allies continue their journey, they become more of a threat. And every delay, every misstep, only serves to weaken our control." His fingers traced the edge of his chair, a dangerous edge to his tone. "The kingdoms of mankind should already be ours by now. We shouldn't have to be dealing with loose ends and insignificant nobodies. The Sultan is a fool, and his daughter… well, she is a nuisance that must be tamed."

Bazzle leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head with an air of amusement. "Ah, so there it is. The heart of the issue. The Princess and her little baker. Afraid she'll be swept off her feet by a commoner?"

Aza sneered, his gaze returning to the glass in front of him. "It's not her heart I'm concerned with. It's the throne. The power. The order we will establish when everything falls into place. We cannot let sentimentality and foolish alliances get in the way of that."

As he spoke, his reflection in the glass shifted slightly, almost as if it were watching him. And in that moment, the familiar contours of Aza’s face seemed to fade into something darker, more sinister. Bazzle, standing beside him, noticed it too, and the playful smirk slipped from his face, replaced by a look of intrigue.

The two men continued staring, and as they did, their reflections began to change, transforming into something monstrous and primordial, a shadow of the darkness within their souls. The familiar faces of Aza and Bazzle melted away in the glass, replaced by two inhuman forms. Their eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, dark and consuming, as if forged from the abyss itself. These reflections weren’t just distorted; they were ancient, evil, and powerful, embodying every twisted ambition and buried hatred they harbored.

Bazzle shivered slightly, though he kept his composure. He glanced at Aza, who was staring at his own transformed reflection with a fascination that bordered on reverence.

“It seems our ambitions have not gone unnoticed,” Bazzle murmured, a sly smile creeping back onto his face. "Our true selves, reflected for all the world—or rather, for us—to see. This is what we are, Aza. The world of men doesn’t understand what they’re up against.”

Aza’s lips curled into a wicked grin as he watched the monstrous reflection in the glass, feeling an intense sense of power radiating from it. “They may not understand it now, but they will. In time, they’ll come to realize the inevitability of our reign. We were destined to control, to rule over these fragile, insignificant beings.”

Bazzle chuckled darkly, crossing his arms as he looked back into his own reflection, which was just as twisted, just as filled with darkness. “Well, then, let’s make sure they know it, hmm? If Malin and his merry band of fools somehow escape our men, there are… other means we can use to crush their spirits. Our Lord has been patient with us, but there are limits to every alliance.”

Aza nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the haunting image in the glass. The reflection seemed to pulse, a dark reminder of the path they had chosen, of the beings they had become in their pursuit of power. “Yes. We must make him proud. If we are to claim this world, to fulfill our destiny, then we cannot afford weakness. Every act, every step, must be decisive.”

With one last lingering look at the malevolent figures staring back at them, Aza turned to Bazzle, his resolve unshakable. “The kingdoms of men belong to us. Their fate has already been sealed.”

Bazzle’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Then let’s give them a show, shall we? One that will echo through the ages, long after their ashes are scattered to the winds.”

As they turned away from the glass, the reflections continued to stare back, watching, waiting—an omen of the darkness yet to come. And in the quiet of the room, the shadows deepened, as if in approval of the twisted path that Aza and Bazzle had set in motion.