Page 6

As they expanded their search through the narrow streets, questioning merchants, food vendors, and anyone who might have observed the comings and goings of strangers, Akoro’s frustration mounted.

Either the entire district was conspiring to hide information—unlikely, given the petty disputes and rivalries that usually existed in such communities—or the women had truly left no impression.

Finally as the afternoon shadows lengthened, they found a single thread—an old man who sat daily at the eastern gate, watching the traffic with idle curiosity.

“Two pretty women, you say?” he mused, his rheumy eyes narrowing in concentration. “About two months past? Yes, yes. I recall something strange.” He gestured toward the vast expanse of sand beyond the district walls. “They came from there. No nnirae , no caravan. Just walking, out of the Sands."

"Walking?" Oppo echoed, disbelief in his voice. "Without mounts or supplies?"

The old man nodded. "Thought it odd myself. No one survives the Sands on foot. Not unless they know something the rest of us don't." He cackled at his own wit, but the old man's words settled over them like dust from the desert wind. Akoro, Oppo, and Prillu shared a long look.

As they mounted their nnirae to leave Ntorkkan, the afternoon sun cast harsh shadows that turned the dunes into a stark landscape of brilliant gold and deep shade. Akoro's mind churned with implications, each possibility darker than the last.

"Women appearing out of the Sands," Prillu murmured. "No one remembers them. They insert themselves into a factory where magical artifacts are produced long enough to ensure I purchase some, then vanish."

"After potentially tampering with the stone that transported Naya," Oppo added. "This feels orchestrated."

Akoro nodded grimly. "The question is, by whom?

And to what purpose?" He stared out at the endless expanse of Sands.

"Otenyo is capable of malice, but this level of subtlety doesn't match his usual methods.

" His fingers tightened on the reins, the leather creaking beneath his grip. “We need to search the Sands in the direction they came from. Something is happening here beyond just Naya’s disappearance. I can feel it.”

He stared into the distance where the golden dunes gave way to something far more ominous—a shifting, restless expanse that seemed to writhe under the blazing sun.

Oppo followed his gaze, understanding dawning. "The Isshiran Sands," he said quietly. "That's where they came from."

The shifting sands stretched across the horizon like a living thing, dunes that never held the same shape from one day to the next.

Even from this distance, Akoro could see the subtle wrongness—the way the sand moved without wind, the shimmer that spoke of more than heat distortion.

It was a place where caravans vanished without a trace, where even the most experienced desert travelers lost their way and were never seen again.

Prillu's face dropped. "My king, we need to prepare if we are to enter the Isshiran Sands. It's a death trap. Even our most skilled navigators refuse to enter here."

"I know, Prillu." Akoro's voice cut through her protests.

His jaw tightened, remembering the journey back from the Lox Empire.

Their route had bordered the Isshiran Sands and the nnin-eellithi had stalked Naya the whole journey, nearly claiming both of their lives.

"That's why we need to search for them. If Naya is in there, she's in imminent danger.

Every moment we delay could be her last." He turned to Prillu.

"Something about those women—the way they appeared, worked, vanished—requires knowledge, patience, and planning that goes beyond petty district politics. "

Prillu straightened in her saddle. "What are your orders, my king?"

"Ride to Nrommo and the troops. Tell them to meet us at the eastern edge of the Isshiran Sands with full provisions for extended desert travel.

" His hands tightened on the reins. "We need navigation tools, rope, extra water, medical supplies, protective sheets for the nnirae .

Everything required to survive those sands and bring back survivors. "

The diplomat nodded, already turning her mount toward the direction they'd come. But she paused, looking back with worry etched into her features. "My king... even with proper equipment, the success rate for expeditions into the Isshiran Sands?—"

"It’s irrelevant." The finality in his voice brooked no argument. "We cast as wide a net as possible. If she's in there, we will find her."

As Prillu spurred her mount toward the horizon, Oppo shifted beside him. "Otenyo's dog has been following us since we came through the gate."

Akoro grunted, catching sight of Captain Brakor maintaining careful distance. "Let him follow. Once we leave this district, Otenyo has no authority. If his captain interferes with royal business, he will die."

He turned to his brother, studying the determined set of Oppo's shoulders. "You should return to the city, brother. The search will be dangerous—it would be safer if at least one Sy remained at the palace."

Oppo's head snapped toward him, surprised. "What?"

"Think strategically," Akoro pressed. "If something happens in there, both of us will be at risk.”

Oppo was silent for a long moment, his eyes watching the Sands. His voice was soft when he spoke. “You think I have what it takes to lead? You flatter me, brother.”

Akoro said nothing. Oppo had always supported Akoro’s intentions for their dynasty, but always without direct involvement.

“If you die in those Sands while I sat idle and could have helped, it wouldn’t help to preserve all you’ve done for the people.

The Sy Dynasty lives and dies with you.” He turned to Akoro.

“I know that annoys you, Akoro, that I leave you to shoulder all the responsibility. But you have always been the only one who could do it.”

Akoro said nothing for a long moment. “And what if I’m not anymore? What if things have changed?”

Oppo stared at him. “What does that mean?”

Akoro made a noise at the back of his throat, not meeting his brother’s gaze. Sighing, he spurred his mount forward. "If it gets too dangerous, you go back home, Oppo. No arguments."

The sun blazed overhead, turning the sand into molten gold.

Before them stretched the Isshiran Sands—shifting, treacherous, hungry for the foolish.

Moving into the Sands, they left the relative safety of Ntorkkan behind.

There was no hesitation as they approached the border between stable ground and the writhing dunes beyond.

Akoro’s blood sang with purpose, with absolute certainty that he would survive whatever lay ahead, and would find Naya and bring her home.

Somewhere in that shifting maze was his Omega. And he would tear apart the desert itself to reach her.