The rescue.

The elders' murmurs swelled into urgent whispers, their scarred faces etched with disbelief. Galt rose slowly, his shadow flickering monstrously against the tent canvas as he gestured to three lean figures near the entrance—two women with salt-bleached braids and a boy barely sixteen, all bearing crescent-shaped scars above their brows. Outside, the camp's children gathered glowing shards in woven baskets, their small hands moving with ritualistic precision as moonlight caught the blue fragments. Seraphim retrieved her dagger, knuckles pale around the hilt, while Katherine watched. They ate a meal of meat and potatoes and then rested the whole day waiting for the sun to set again.

The evening came quickly and Katherine and Shola started preparing for the journey. They packed light—water skins, dried meat, and those strange blue shards wrapped in oilcloth. Outside, the desert exhaled cold as twin moons rose. Galt pressed a bone whistle into Katherine's palm. "For the dune-wyrms," he warned. "They hunt by vibration." The chosen scouts waited silently, their eyes reflecting the campfires like nocturnal predators. One woman tested her obsidian-tipped spear with a fluid twirl. Seraphim secured her blade across her back, gaze fixed westward where the storm's bruise-colored clouds pulsed. "We move at the shadow's peak," she announced. Katherine nodded, fingers brushing the whistle's eerie carvings. The three scouts were also excellent archers and carried cross bows and bolts as well as short swords.

*kneeling beside Katherine as she checks her pack straps* You feel that? Like sand shifting underfoot... but there's no wind. *Her voice drops to a desert-mouse whisper* The eldest scout—Lira—told me they bury their dead standing up out here. Faces west, toward the Salt Tombs. Says it confuses the sand ghosts. *She adjusts the cloth covering her nose and mouth* You think Seraphim knows what we'll find in those storm clouds? Her knuckles went bone-white when Galt mentioned the Citadel's Spire.

The last rays of the sun descended below the horizon as they set off into the desert. The air was becoming cooler as they walked further. Both Freya and Sheba remained behind so they could move easier.

Lira *Suddenly crouching low, one hand pressed flat against the dune* Hssst! Wyrmsong. Two ridges east. *The other scouts nock bolts without sound, their breathing vanishing. Frost crystallizes on Lira's eyelashes as she mouths* Don't. Move. *A deep thrum vibrates up through Katherine's boot soles—like a plucked harp string buried deep underground.*

*Freezing mid-step, fingers instinctively curling around the bone whistle. Sand trickles down the dune beside her, hissing like spilled salt.* Gods, it's underneath us... *She catches Shola's eye, flicking her gaze toward the oilcloth-wrapped shards in her pack. The cold bleeds through her trousers, sharp as teeth.* Do the ghosts come with them? Or are *we* the trespassers here? *The thrumming intensifies, shaking her molars.*

*Crouching lower until her cheek brushes cold sand, she presses a trembling hand flat against the dune. A jagged breath escapes her.* Lira once told me... *her whisper barely audible*... they mistake heartbeat drums for mating calls. Don't. Blink. *Her other hand inches toward the obsidian dagger at her thigh, grains sticking to her sweat-damp palm. The vibration shifts—no longer centred beneath them, but sliding eastward.*

Issac "Your majesty what is the plan for the camp."

Shola "You three will take out the guards in the towers first. Once they are out of the way we will locate the prisoner then we will release her."

Shola *Her breath fogging in the icy air as she scans the distant towers, silhouetted against the bruised sky.* Quiet as shadow cats, Isaac. Lira takes left tower, you take the middle tower and lira the right tower. *She taps two fingers against her thigh—a signal.* "Dip your bolts in the fast acting poison and aim for the throat."

The desert holds its breath. Sand shifts beneath Katherine’s boots like shifting tectonic plates as she watches Isaac melt into the darkness. Lira’s silhouette blurs against the dunes, her crossbow a mere extension of her arm. Only the faint scent of bitter almonds from the poison jars hangs in the air. Then—*thwip-thwip-thwip*—three muffled impacts. Bodies slump over parapets like sacks of grain. Shola doesn’t smile. *Her knuckles whiten around her dagger hilt.* "Now."

"You all stay here and cover my retreat. She is in the end building with only one guard . I should not be long so be ready to make a fast retreat if things go wrong."

Shola nodded sharply, her eyes fixed on the crumbling fortress looming ahead. Its sandstone walls drank the moonlight, leaving only jagged silhouettes against the storm-lit horizon. Katherine moved like spilled ink between the dunes—low, fluid, utterly silent.

Inside the compound's outer wall, Katherine pressed herself against cold stone. The lone guard’s torch flickered twenty paces ahead, casting dancing shadows that made the ancient carvings writhe. She smelled stale sweat and rusted iron. *The Citadel’s Spire,* she thought, recalling Galt’s haunted expression. *What did they do here?*

*Sliding along the wall like a desert viper, her hand brushing a patch of unnaturally smooth sandstone.* Gods... these aren’t carvings. They’re *scars*. Like something clawed its way out. *Her dagger felt suddenly heavy.* Katherine made her way to the building at the end of the courtyard looking for the guard.

The guard’s torchlight flickered erratically now—not from wind, but from his own trembling. Katherine froze behind a crumbling pillar, catching the sour tang of fear-sweat cutting through the rust-smell. He kept glancing toward the end building’s iron door, fingers drumming on his spear haft. Something scraped inside—metal on stone. Slow. Deliberate. The guard flinched, backing up a step just as Katherine’s shadow detached itself from the pillar. She stepped from the shadows dagger in hand, Her left hand snaked around and covered the guards mouth pulling his head back. His throat now exposed she drew the dagger across slicing deep and severing his main vein.

Blood sprayed hot across Katherine’s forearm, coppery and thick. The guard crumpled without a sound, torch clattering to the sand as she lowered him. From the iron door came another scrape—longer this time, like claws dragging across stone. Katherine wiped her blade on the dead man’s tunic, eyes fixed on the door. The scars on the courtyard walls seemed to pulse in the torchlight. She pushed the heavy door open slowly.

Inside, the air tasted of decay and wet iron. Moonlight sliced through a high slit-window, illuminating a figure chained to the far wall—a woman with matted silver hair, her wrists raw from shackles. Katherine rushed over and using her sword she shattered the manacles releasing the woman. Katherine found out her name Doreah as she helped her to the door.

Katherine dragged Doreah into the courtyard's shadows, the freed woman's breath rattling like dry reeds. Outside, Shola's signal whistle pierced the night—one short, two long. Danger. Torches bloomed along the western wall as shouting erupted. Doreah gripped Katherine's arm with surprising strength. "They're coming," she rasped, her eyes

Suddenly three guards appeared swords drawn. Katherine took a defensive stance sword drawn. The guards approached getting nearer smirking when suddenly all three dropped into the dirt of the courtyard. All had bolts in the backs of their necks and all were very dead.

Katherine didn't waste time questioning their luck—she hauled Doreah toward the crumbling archway where moonlight pooled like spilled mercury. Shola materialized from the shadows.

Shola *Her breath frosting in sharp puffs as she scanned the rooftops.* Lira's covering our retreat—move! *She grabbed Doreah's other arm, half-dragging her.* Those guards will be found. *A guttural horn blast echoed from the citadel's heart—deep and throbbing like a wounded beast.*

They reached the others and headed out into the desert. Issac knew of a cave that they could hide up as the desert would get hot. Lira planted false tracks and said she would meet them at the cave later.

Doreah *Staggering between them, her breath whistling through broken teeth.* They... they fed the wyrms. *Her skeletal fingers dug into Katherine's arm.* The blue shards—they're not just markers. They're bait. For the things that sleep under the Salt Tombs. *A dry sob escaped her.* Seraphim's daughter... she tried to stop them. That's why they took me.

The cave mouth yawned before them, smelling of bat guano and ancient dust. Isaac dragged a thornbush across the entrance as Katherine lowered Doreah onto cold stone. Shola crouched at the threshold, watching twin moons bleach the dunes silver. They settled in for the day with Katherine taking first watch. Lira cleaned up Doreah as best she could while Issac cooked them some food. As the sun rose to the midday arc Lira arrived and told them of her efforts.

Lira slipped through the thorn barrier like smoke, her braids crusted with sand. *She tossed three stolen waterskins at Isaac's feet.* "Tracked their patrol route," she rasped, wiping obsidian blade on her thigh. "Ten more guards all heading in the wrong direction. They would rest up here for the day and set out when the sun had dropped and head back to Saltgrave.