The desert stretched endless and cruel around them, the sky bleeding orange as the sun sank lower. Sand shifted underfoot, heat clinging even as evening cooled. Six figures stood in the vast emptiness, ringed by silence heavier than any wall.
Amara finally broke it, her voice low but cutting.
"We should split up."
The words fell like stones. No one answered at first. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Kael stepped forward, almost pleading.
"Can't we just… stay together? We've already lost too much. If we scatter—"
Amara's eyes softened, but only for a heartbeat.
"The Cloakers burned Verdantyr. They weren't after the guards. They weren't after the kingdom. They were after us. Whatever—or whoever—the serpent is chasing… if we stay together, we're handing them all of us at once. Scattering gives us a chance. Maybe only one of us survives. But at least that's better than none."
The sting of truth silenced them.
Bram shuffled his feet, then muttered,
"Well, I'll miss you all… guess I'll have to talk to myself now. Better company than Dagan anyway."
That coaxed a reluctant snort from Lyra.
Amara adjusted her pack, not looking at them. "Then it's decided." Without another word, she turned and started walking, the setting sun swallowing her silhouette. She never looked back.
Dagan smirked.
"Figures she'd leave first. Fine by me. You'll all miss my strength the most when I'm gone."
Bram barked a laugh. "Miss you? Please. I just beat you at training practice this morning."
"That was luck!" Dagan shot back.
"Luck? You cried when I flipped you!"
The two bickered, pulling a few strained chuckles from the others. But when Dagan finally stalked off into the dunes, the laughter died quickly.
Bram muttered, bowing his head,
"It was just today."
All of them turned toward the horizon. Smoke still rose, thick and black, from the ruins of mighty Verdantyr.
Lyra's voice broke the spell.
"Don't forget Amara's words. Splitting is the only way."
Kael swallowed, throat tight. He turned to Lyra, to Joss.
"Goodbye."
His reluctance weighed in every syllable.
Bram waited until Kael started walking, then ran after him. He caught Kael's hand and squeezed.
"Don't worry, little boy. I'll protect you. Remember our promise?"
Kael blinked, then broke into a smile.
"How could I forget?"
The memory flashed—Pyrrathis, Kael chucking coal in the face of Bram's bullies, their promise to be there for each other. They laughed softly, brothers bound by more than blood.
One by one, the six children vanished in different directions, each path swallowed by desert.
Then, as though guided by the same instinct, they all stopped. At different angles, far apart, they raised their hands and waved.
"Stay alive!"
"Eat well!"
"Don't die, idiots!"
Their voices carried across the empty plain. Then they turned, and kept walking.
---
The silence between Kael and Bram stretched long until Bram finally broke it, grinning despite the ache in his chest.
"Hey. Maybe we should be mercenaries. Or traders. Or adventurers. You know, the kind that wander around eating roasted meat and drinking ale every night."
Kael let out a soft laugh. It sounded almost genuine.
"I'll miss everyone."
"Then we'll just make it big," Bram countered. "So big that we come back for them."
Kael slowed, staring at the endless dunes.
"Do you think we'll ever see them again?"
Bram shoved his shoulder. "Of course. You're stuck with me till the end. And when we're rich, we'll throw the biggest reunion feast in history. They won't even know what hit them."
But Kael's smile faded. His voice lowered.
"Bram… did you see those Cloakers?"
Bram frowned. "Yeah. Like shadows walking. Even the guards couldn't touch them."
"Why us?" Kael whispered. "Why chase us?"
Bram had no answer.
Kael's chest tightened. Memory flashed—his mother's screams, her body wrenched from him, her face was slowly vanishing from his memory.
"I'm going to find her," he said suddenly, fiercely. "I don't care how long it takes. If she's alive—I'll find her."
Bram's hand landed heavy on his shoulder. "Then I'm with you. But first?" His grin returned. "We'll need money."
Kael huffed a laugh, shoving him back. "Always thinking with your stomach."
"Hey," Bram smirked. "Gold buys food. Food keeps us alive. Alive means we find your mother. Simple math."
They shoved each other, mock punches flying. For a moment, the desert wasn't so heavy. For a moment, they were just boys again.
---
Amara trudged alone, sandals sinking into shifting sand. Her lips moved restlessly.
"I'll make it. I have skills. Gardening—yes, I can grow something, even here."
A harsh voice inside snapped back.
"In sand? With no water? What are you thinking, fool?"
She shook her head, arguing with herself.
"I can! I'll find a way. I've always found a way."
"You'll starve. Alone."
Her muttering drew laughter ahead. Amara stiffened, spotting a group of desert traders resting by their camels. They stared, amused.
One called out. "Girl, are you fighting with the wind?"
Heat rose in her cheeks. She forced a smile. "I… I was just thinking out loud."
They looked her over, curiosity sharpened. "What's a child doing alone in the desert?"
Her throat tightened. She lied smoothly. "An orphan. Looking for shelter. I can work. I know gardening. Care-taking. Anything."
The traders burst into laughter, but not cruelly.
"Gardening? In sand?"
Her fingers twisted in her skirt.
But one, older, nodded. "Skills are skills. Come with us. We're heading to the next kingdom. You'll love it. Or maybe you won't. Either way, you shouldn't be wandering here. Strange things happen after sunset."
Amara hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Thank you."
She joined their caravan. On the road, she noticed one man limping, blood soaking his sandal. Without thinking, she crouched and treated the wound, binding it with a strip of cloth.
The traders exchanged impressed looks.
"She's got talent."
They teased her gently, weaving jokes until her laughter mingled with theirs. For the first time since Verdantyr, she felt a fragile thread of belonging.
---
Night draped the caravan road. The camels plodded steady. Above, stars burned sharp.
Amara hugged her knees on the wagon's edge. Thoughts pressed heavy.
"Maybe we were wrong to split. If we had stayed together… maybe we'd be safer. Maybe even happy." She bit her lip. "Now, who knows what dangers they face?"
Her eyes lifted skyward. She whispered, repeating the trader's warning.
"Strange things happen here at night."
---
Her gaze turned backward. Far off, smoke still rose from Verdantyr, staining the twilight.
Memory sharpened—the purple-cloaked man. The way his eyes fixed only on Joss.
And before that—Joss darting into the eerie groove, like he was searching for something.
Amara's heart twisted.
"He's hiding something. Maybe Kael was right. Secrets will kill us if we don't face them. No matter how far we run, the past follows."
---
She tilted her face to the dying sun, whispering low.
"For guidance in this desert. For Kael, Bram, Lyra, Joss, even Dagan—keep them safe. Give me strength to uncover the truths that won't stay buried."
The caravan wheels creaked. The stars pulsed bright.
Amara's lips curved in a sad smile.
"We will meet again. And when we do—the world will finally give up its secrets."
The desert swallowed her prayer, carrying it into the night.
---