The night air was thick with foreboding. The wind slipped through the cracks in the windows of the inn they had left behind, bringing with it the metallic scent of distant sand. The boy followed Kaelis without a word, his heart still in turmoil from the look they had exchanged in the room lit by flickering candles.
Kaelis walked ahead of him with a sure step, his long black robe brushing the ground, as if he had always known the way. He never looked back, yet the boy felt that this man perceived his every step, every hesitation.
After hours of silent walking, the plain gave way to a landscape that seemed like another world: the Desert of Lost Voices. A vast expanse that, in the moonlight, shone as if it were made of glass shards. Each grain of sand reflected the light irregularly, producing glimmers similar to eyes that peered into the darkness.
It was not just sand. It never had been.
As soon as they crossed the invisible boundary that separated the fertile land from the desert, the boy felt a pressure in his temples. A whisper, subtle, barely perceptible, touched his hearing. An ancient, broken female voice, murmuring incomprehensible words.
"Do not listen," Kaelis said, without turning, in a grave voice. "This is a place that feeds on the frailties of men. Every grain of sand is steeped in memory. They are the voices of those who have lost themselves and been devoured by the wind."
The boy shivered. He looked down and for a moment it seemed to him that the shadow of his figure no longer followed him, but moved belatedly, as if it were alive and hostile.
They continued to walk, but the voices became more insistent. Now they were choirs, broken screams, desperate invocations. Some resembled the voices of loved ones, others his own conscience accusing him. Each step became heavier, as if an invisible weight was trying to drag him down into the sand.
"Why... are you following me?" he managed to ask, gasping, almost overwhelmed by those calls.
Kaelis stopped for the first time. He turned slowly. His eyes were two dark mirrors that reflected the moonlight without holding any light.
"Because you have no choice. And neither do I," he answered, enigmatically. Then he pulled out an object wrapped in worn cloth from under his robe. He uncovered it with a decisive gesture: it was an ancient staff, carved with runes that seemed to move, serpentine, every time the light touched them. At the top, a black stone pulsed like a heart.
"This relic is the Staff of Veyra, a gift and a curse from a forgotten age. With it, I can tame the voices, at least for a while. But the price will always be high."
The boy did not dare to ask for more. Kaelis raised the staff and plunged it into the sand: immediately the voices grew muffled, as if a veil were suffocating them. A surreal silence fell over the desert, but it was not a natural silence: it was more like a void, an absence that threatened to devour everything.
"Walk," Kaelis said, in a tone that brooked no argument.
They proceeded. Yet, the further they went, the more a gnawing doubt grew within the boy: who was Kaelis really? Was he a guide, a prisoner of his own destiny, or a predator waiting for the right moment to strike?
He did not have time to formulate an answer, because the desert suddenly changed. In front of them, an immense dune rose, and at its summit a figure awaited them.
It was tall, wrapped in layers of fabric that floated like shadows, its face hidden by a bone helmet. In its hand, it held a curved blade, which glittered with an unnatural light.
The voices of the desert exploded in a collective scream, as if they all recognized that being.
"A Keeper," Kaelis murmured, his fingers tightening on the staff. "One of the ancient warriors, left to guard the borders. I did not want to meet him so soon."
The Keeper descended from the dune without making any noise, as if it did not belong to the material world. The blade in its hand emitted a sharp sound, a vibration that tore through the air.
The boy felt fear clutch his chest. But in Kaelis' eyes there was no fear: only a somber resignation.
"Boy," he said in a firm voice. "If you want to cross this desert, you must learn one truth: here, strength is not enough. You must listen to what within you fears to be heard."
The Keeper raised the blade and the desert wind rose in a sudden storm, enveloping the three in a whirlwind of sand and screams.
"Be ready for what may await us"
After Kaelis said this, the great storm engulfed them completely. The boy was suddenly overwhelmed and couldn't even open his mouth.
In a few moments, he found himself lying on the burning sand, a stretch of dunes stretching out before him. It was no longer the cold desert he had previously crossed with Kaelis, or perhaps it was, he simply didn't want to believe he had been unconscious for an entire night.
As soon as he recovered, he stood up, his aching legs barely supporting his body, his cheeks, which had previously rested on the sand, burning more than anything, but he gritted his teeth and looked around for Kaelis.
I found him leaning on a rock, his hands almost in prayer, his eyes closed but not asleep. They approached him.
"Where are we?"
"You seemed to know that being before, and also where he would take us."
Kaelis, throughout the entire journey, which presumably lasted more than 4 hours, never showed the boy any signs of curiosity or any other emotion, but this time just for a moment, the boy sensed compassion towards him in his words.
"boy this land holds more mysteries and legends than living beings that inhabit it, so remember, your questions, here, will nevere have a clear answer"