As the figures loomed closer, Malin felt his blood run cold. Their skeletal frames draped in tattered, colourless cloth, the figures moved in unison, swaying slightly with each step, a strange and eerie rhythm to their march. Sunken eyes peered out from hollow sockets, and their faces, thin and gaunt, were framed by cloth hoods that clung tightly to their skulls, giving them a haunting, almost ceremonial appearance. In their bony hands, they held thick, rusted hooks, the metal tarnished and scarred, as if each had tasted the flesh of countless souls.
They began to sing, their voices a chilling harmony that cut through the desert air, each line echoing with sorrow and despair. The melody was ancient, haunting, and yet somehow beautiful in its desolation. The Song of the Lost reverberated around them, each verse pulling Malin’s courage to the surface, even as it threatened to dissolve into the sands with fear.
---
Song of the Lost
“In shadows deep, we’ve lost our way,
Our souls adrift, night holds sway.
With hollow eyes and hooks in hand,
We walk the dust, no final stand.
Bound by sorrow, cursed by night,
We are the lost, devoid of light.
Through desert sands and broken dreams,
We sing the end, our silent screams.
No dawn to break, no warmth to find,
We march with hooks, our lives confined.
Forgotten souls, we roam and cry,
Lost ‘til the day we truly die.”
---
The eerie cadence of their voices sent shivers down Malin’s spine, each word steeped in a despair that seemed to seep into his very bones. The figures swayed as they sang, their steps slow and measured, but there was a malevolent intent behind their movements, like predators taunting their prey.
As they approached, they brandished their hooks, raising them high with a dark fervor, the metal gleaming faintly under the dying light. The Salamini Lizards responded instinctively, sensing the threat. They rose up onto their hind legs, their powerful bodies tensing, teeth bared, and eyes narrowing as they hissed at the approaching enemies. Malin, unsure of what else to do, scrambled back toward his mount, his fingers brushing against its rough scales as he prepared to climb up.
He wasn’t a warrior in the traditional sense; he was a baker, a man whose hands were more familiar with dough than weapons. But he knew one thing—he would need to be agile, moving with the lizard’s strength, to have any chance of surviving this. The other lizards closed ranks around him, forming a protective barrier as they readied themselves for the fight ahead.
Abel, standing tall at the forefront, drew his sword and raised his shield. With a fierce intensity, he summoned flames that roared to life along the blade and his armor, casting a defiant glow against the approaching darkness. The fire crackled and danced, illuminating his face, which was set in a grim, unyielding expression.
Beside him, Maya steadied herself, gripping a sword in one hand and a spear in the other. She reached out, and water flowed from her fingers, swirling around her like a protective barrier, droplets shimmering in the dimming light. Her gaze was steely, a hardened determination evident as she called out, her voice sharp and commanding.
“Stop where you are! Move no further!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the eerie song like a blade.
But the figures didn’t listen. Their song faded into a chilling silence, and, as if summoned by an unseen force, they began to charge, hooks raised high, their hollow eyes locked onto the adventurers with an unwavering, merciless gaze.
Malin felt his heart hammering in his chest. This was his first true battle, and everything in him screamed to run, to hide. But he clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe, to focus. He would have to adapt, and quickly. His hands fumbled as he gripped the reins of his lizard, pressing himself low against its back, feeling the powerful muscles tense beneath him as it prepared to leap forward.
Abel shouted back to him, his voice fierce and unyielding. “Hold steady, Malin! Follow your instincts, and don’t let them close in on you!”
Maya, glancing back at Malin, added, “Stay with us, Baker Boy! We’ll get through this together!”
As the creatures closed in, the first wave crashed against them. Abel swung his flaming sword in a wide arc, the fire scorching through the air and slicing into one of the skeletal figures. The creature staggered, its cloak catching alight as it crumbled to the ground, its hook clattering uselessly beside it.
Maya spun with grace and precision, her spear darting forward and piercing through one of the figures’ ribcages. She twisted, water flowing from her other hand to create a shield as another creature lunged at her, its hook clanging against the barrier with a metallic screech. She gritted her teeth, driving her sword into the creature’s chest, sending it falling back into the sand.
Malin’s heart pounded as he directed his lizard, feeling its raw power as it leapt and bounded through the fray. His instincts guided him, ducking low and weaving around the skeletal foes. His lizard’s claws scraped across the sand, and with each bound, it snapped at the creatures, occasionally snagging a bony limb and thrashing it aside.
The skeletal figures surged forward relentlessly, their empty eyes devoid of fear, their song now a low, haunting hum that seemed to seep from the very air around them. They swung their hooks with deadly precision, forcing the trio to stay on constant alert, their movements swift and deliberate.
Malin felt the adrenaline surging within him as he caught the rhythm of the battle. His lizard reacted to his every motion, darting forward when he leaned into it, pulling back when he tugged on the reins. He began to trust the creature’s instincts, his confidence building with each moment as he guided it to charge at a lone figure, knocking it off balance and sending it tumbling back into the sand.
Just as he felt a moment of triumph, a skeletal figure lunged at him from the side, its hook raised high, aiming for his chest. He gasped, instinctively pulling back, but his lizard reacted quicker than he did, rearing up on its hind legs and swatting the creature away with a powerful claw. The figure was sent sprawling back, its hook slipping from its grip and clattering to the ground.
“Malin!” Abel shouted, flames blazing as he cut down another figure that had gotten too close. “Keep moving! Don’t let them surround you!”
Maya spun beside him, water swirling in an arc as she deflected another attack, her gaze fierce and focused. “We’re not done yet!”
The skeletal horde seemed endless, their numbers undeterred by the fallen. They pressed forward, their relentless advance a chilling reminder of their cursed existence. Malin’s breaths came fast and shallow, but he forced himself to keep moving, to stay with Maya and Abel, who fought with a strength and precision he could only hope to match.
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Night was fully upon them now, the desert bathed in the eerie glow of Abel’s flames and Maya’s shimmering water shield. The stars above seemed distant, cold witnesses to the battle below. The desert, once quiet and serene, was now a chaotic battlefield, the sounds of clashing weapons and the haunting hum of the Lost filling the air.
For the first time, Malin understood the cost of this journey. It wasn’t just about winning Nahra’s hand or proving himself. It was about survival, about facing the darkness that threatened to consume them all. And as he looked at Maya and Abel, fighting side by side with unwavering determination, he realized that he wasn’t alone in this battle.
Gritting his teeth, Malin urged his lizard forward, ready to face whatever came next. The fear was still there, a steady thrum in his chest, but now it was tempered by something stronger—resolve. He would adapt, he would survive, and together, they would push through this darkness, no matter what lay ahead.
The desert was alight with the clash of steel, the roar of flames, and the relentless humming song of the Lost. As Malin, Maya, and Abel fought, each one threw themselves deeper into the fray, finding a rhythm that defied the overwhelming odds stacked against them. The skeletal figures surged forward, each step hauntingly synchronized with the others, their empty eyes and twisted, skeletal forms giving them an almost spectral quality under the faint starlight.
Abel pressed forward, his flaming sword cutting through the figures with brutal efficiency. Every swing sent flames slicing through the night, illuminating the battlefield in brief flashes that revealed the grim expressions of his companions. His blade struck one of the figures in its exposed ribcage, the fire catching onto its robes, spreading across its bones and turning it to ash. Another figure came at him from the side, its hook swinging wide, aiming for his shoulder, but Abel spun to meet it. His shield crashed into the figure, knocking it off balance, and he followed with a downward strike, cleaving it in two. The skeletal remains scattered across the sand, burning briefly before the flames flickered out.
Nearby, Maya was a whirlwind of motion. She wielded her sword and spear with deadly precision, each thrust and sweep of her weapons punctuated by bursts of water that she conjured to shield herself and strike her foes. She stepped into a low stance, thrusting her spear into the ribcage of an advancing figure, then twirled around to bring her sword down on another. A thin sheet of water followed the arc of her blade, slicing through the creature as it dissolved into a pile of bones at her feet. Despite the relentless onslaught, Maya moved with fluid grace, her movements steady and focused, yet tinged with an underlying fierceness.
The Salamini Lizards were in a frenzy as well, joining their riders in the battle with a natural ferocity. Malin’s lizard darted through the crowd of skeletal figures, snapping its powerful jaws around limbs and torsos, shaking them until they shattered into pieces. Abel’s lizard, larger and more aggressive, used its claws to swipe at the figures, dismembering them with a single powerful blow before moving on to the next. Maya’s lizard whipped its spiked tail around, smashing into several of the figures and sending them tumbling across the sand, where they lay in broken heaps.
Despite the chaos, Malin held his ground, gripping the hilt of a fallen hook in one hand and his knife in the other. He knew he wasn’t as skilled as Maya or as fierce as Abel, but he had to survive—and to survive, he would have to fight. The weight of the hook felt strange in his hand, unfamiliar and heavy, but he swung it with all his strength, catching one of the skeletal figures across its neck. The impact knocked its head clean off, and the body crumbled into a pile of bones.
As he fought, Malin felt a pang of guilt gnawing at him. This wasn’t what he’d ever imagined himself doing. He was a baker, not a warrior, and yet here he was, swinging a weapon in the face of death. The thought of killing—even these cursed beings—sat heavy in his heart, a weight he hadn’t been prepared for. But he pushed it aside, forcing himself to focus. He had no choice. This was survival.
Another figure came at him, its empty eyes locked onto him as it swung its hook. Malin ducked, sidestepping the blow and driving his knife upward, plunging it between the figure’s ribs. He twisted the blade, and the figure fell apart, collapsing into a heap of bones at his feet. He took a shaky breath, his heart pounding, but there was no time to rest. More of the Lost were coming.
“Malin!” Abel shouted, his voice cutting through the noise of the battle. “Stay with us! Don’t fall behind!”
Malin nodded, his face pale but determined. He tightened his grip on the hook, pulling himself onto his lizard’s back for better mobility. The creature responded, surging forward as it crushed bones beneath its claws, its body moving in sync with Malin’s commands. He could feel the creature’s muscles tensing beneath him, its movements swift and responsive, as if it understood the gravity of the situation as well.
The trio fought with everything they had, cutting through the ranks of the Lost one by one. Abel and Maya led the charge, their skills carving a path through the horde, while Malin followed close behind, doing his best to fend off any figures that got too close. The air was thick with the stench of burning bones and the sound of steel clashing against metal, a cacophony that filled the desert night.
Abel was a blazing force, his sword cutting through the darkness with each strike. He didn’t hold back, his strikes brutal and efficient. Each swing of his sword sent another figure to the ground, its bones scattering across the sand, but even he couldn’t keep up with the sheer number of enemies. His shield blocked a hook aimed at his chest, and he retaliated with a fierce slash that decapitated his attacker. Fire danced along his armor, casting an otherworldly glow that only seemed to make him more intimidating.
Maya was equally relentless, her spear thrusting forward with deadly accuracy, piercing the chest of another figure. Water wrapped around her like a second layer of armor, deflecting strikes and giving her an edge in the fight. She spun, bringing her sword down on a skeletal arm that reached for her, severing it cleanly before she turned to face her next opponent. Her eyes were fierce, her stance unwavering, as if nothing could break her resolve.
For a moment, it seemed like they might actually have a chance. The skeletal figures fell before them, one by one, their numbers thinning as the trio fought their way through the horde. The Salamini Lizards fought alongside them, their powerful bodies smashing through the Lost, each strike breaking bones and scattering the cursed remains across the sand.
But then, something shifted.
Malin felt it first—a sudden, chilling sensation that washed over him, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He paused, glancing around, and saw Abel and Maya stop as well, their faces etched with a mix of exhaustion and confusion. The skeletal figures around them had fallen silent, their bodies strewn across the sand in broken heaps.
But the silence was short-lived.
One by one, the scattered bones began to tremble, a low hum rising from the sand as they started to move. Malin’s eyes widened in horror as he watched the bones slowly reassemble themselves, each piece sliding back into place with an unnatural precision. The fallen figures began to rise, their hollow eyes glowing faintly in the darkness as they reformed, their hooks clutched tightly in their skeletal hands.
“No…” Malin whispered, his voice trembling. He had thought they were finally making progress, that they had a chance to escape. But as the Lost rose once more, he realized the terrible truth—these creatures couldn’t be killed, not in any way he understood.
Abel cursed under his breath, his face set in a grim expression. “They’re regenerating. This isn’t a fight we can win.”
Maya looked around, her eyes wide with alarm. “Then we need to fall back. Now!”
The skeletal figures began to advance again, their movements even more menacing as they resumed their song, the haunting melody filling the air once more. Malin’s heart pounded as he watched them close in, their relentless march unbroken by the damage they had sustained.
“Abel, get on your lizard!” Maya shouted, her voice urgent. “We have to move!”
Maya did the same, and the trio turned, their lizards bolting across the sand as they fled from the advancing horde.
The Lost pursued them, their skeletal forms moving with an eerie, unnatural speed. Malin glanced over his shoulder, his stomach churning as he saw the figures closing in, their hooks gleaming in the moonlight. He could still hear their song, a chilling reminder of the cursed existence they led.
The Salamini Lizards sprinted across the dunes, their powerful limbs carrying them swiftly over the sand. Malin held on tightly, his heart racing as he focused on keeping his balance. The wind whipped past him, stinging his face as he leaned into the lizard’s movements, trusting the creature to guide him through the desert’s treacherous terrain.
Abel rode beside him, his face grim, the fire along his armour dimming as he focused on maintaining their speed. He looked over at Malin, a rare vulnerability in his eyes as he spoke. “We can’t let them catch us. Those things… they’ll drag us down into the sand if they get close.”
Maya, on his other side, tightened her grip on her reins, her expression fierce. “Keep your eyes ahead, both of you! We need to reach the ridge up there!” She pointed to a distant line of jagged rocks silhouetted against the horizon. “If we can reach it, we might be able to lose them in the terrain.”
Malin nodded, his throat dry as he urged his lizard onward, focusing on the ridge in the distance. Every part of him was screaming to look back, to see how close the figures were, but he forced himself to keep his gaze forward, to trust that his companions would help him make it through.