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Dunes transition back into the dry and fractured earth of a place hit by seasonal flash floods, and the sharp branches of desiccated and long-dead desert brush claw angrily at our ankles as we scramble up a rocky hill.

"Jesus Christ," I say as we hit the top and see the view stretching out below us.

Black tendrils fill every ancient river channel, gushing over the banks and spreading across the desert like a lava flow. Looking to my left, the smoke from the encampment's cooking fires drifts up from behind a plateau. The Shimat have broken out of the boundary set by Azin and Onar.

We're too late.

16

AIROS

There is no existing scroll or record that describes the devastating sight before us. We are the first in this age to witness such calamity. Umbrios's influence has gone beyond whispers in the darkness—his shadow is emerging in every corner of the world, and like an avalanche, it will grow faster and faster until it can no longer be stopped. We have arrived at a great shift in the fate of Circeana. The last remnants of this cycle of Aethereos are slipping away, and the path to extend it grows as narrow as a blade's edge.

We exchange a look, and I know we share the same thought—we have to defend the camp. Without speaking, we immediately sprint along the crest of the ridge.

"That means... Azin and Onar?" Jackson shouts to me.

"Given how far the Shimat has spread and how quickly it's moving, there's nothing we could have done. They slowed itdown. Without them, it would have already overtaken the encampment."

Knowing this doesn't do much to lessen the impact of their sacrifice. Again, I can read what Jackson is thinking—Is there anything we could've done?

I want to take him in my arms and comfort him, though I know he would deny me. Perhaps that only makes me want him more.

Focus, Airos! Don't allow these thoughts to proceed any further!

It feels as though my defenses are being constantly tested now, over and over, at every weak spot.

What can I rely on to restore my resolve?

Your purpose is to keep him safe. Focus on that.

Yes. That's it. I could live a thousand lives and experience no greater honor than being his Guardian. I just need to keep him safe.

"There's no way through!" Jackson says as we hit the end of the ridge.

Below, the Shimat has already formed an impassable river, blocking the way to the encampment. There's no other choicebut to tap into the little phoenix power I've regained and cover the distance by flight.

"Jackson, get on my back."

"Right," he says, and positions himself behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I reach inside myself to touch the pool of phoenix energy and draw my other form to the surface, but the moment I do, there is a sudden change in the Shimat. It's like seeing a river halt mid-current. The black mass freezes completely.

"Uhh, I don't like that," Jackson says.

I don't either. It's like it's listening. Like a hunter, drawn by the presence of its prey.

It feels phoenix power.

Just as this thought forms in my mind, the Shimat shifts towards us and rises like a great tidal wave rolling across the desert. Tendrils stretch from its body like black water spouts, and I realize that there is no flying over this creature. It's coming for us, and we have to face it now.

Jackson moves to my side and takes a defiant stance. Together, we slide our feet into the first position of the shaman dance.

The Shimat is like an approaching storm, its size and power growing more apparent the closer it gets. The swell is like a mountain rising high into the sky, and at the very summit there is something that makes the hairs on my neck stand on end. Two figures perched on the wave.

"OhGod," Jackson groans. "No..."

Looking at the suspended figures, I feel my blood turn to ice. Azin and Onar hang limp in the Shimat's grasp, the upper halves of their heads encased in black orbs of corrupted water from the crown down to just below their noses. The dark spheres pulse with a sickly rhythm, like diseased hearts beating against their skulls. They're not dead. Their bodies twitch and jerk as if invisible strings are pulling at their limbs. Then I realize with growing horror that the Shimat isn't just controlling them—it's feeding on them. Drawing out their life force, their memories, their very essence to fuel its corruption.