We froze, hidden behind the curtain of roots, the rhythmic tramp of the soldiers' boots on the stone road below a heavy, menacing heartbeat. They were so close. I could see the intricate, soulless patterns on their armor, the grim set of their jaws. They were a river of black steel and dark magic, and we were trapped on the bank.
"We wait," Kael breathed, his voice barely a whisper. "We don't move. We don't breathe. They are marching north. They will pass."
But they didn't pass.
As the column drew level with our position, the robed Magi at the front raised a hand. The entire patrol halted with a single, sharp sound of armored feet on stone. Silence descended, broken only by the distant cry of a gull and the wind rustling the leaves around us.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Had they seen us? Heard us?
The Magi stood perfectly still for a long moment, head tilted as if listening to something we couldn't hear. Then, they slowly raised their hands and began to chant in a low, guttural language. The air around them shimmered. I felt a pressure building, a wave of magical energy expanding outwards from the Magi like a ripple in a pond. It was a spell of seeking. A probe. It washed over the rocks, the trees, and swept up the cliff face towards our hiding place.
I felt a surge of panic. We were exposed. The spell would detect us as surely as the searchlight had.
Kael's hand gripped my shoulder, a silent, desperate command. Do something.
I didn't have the strength for a grand illusion or a physical barrier. The patrol would notice that instantly. I needed something subtle. Something they wouldn't even register as magic. I needed a veil.
Closing my eyes, I reached out with my senses. I ignored the soldiers, the Magi, the heavy stone of the cliff. I focused on the air itself, on the countless, tiny, insignificant motes of dust and sand suspended within it. The children of the sand were everywhere, even here.
I didn't command them. I sang a soft, gentle harmony, a song of stillness and normalcy. I asked the motes of dust between us and the road to simply... hang there. To not swirl in the wind. To create a thin, imperceptible screen of the mundane. I wasn't creating a wall; I was thickening the air, creating a tiny patch of visual and magical static. It was the most delicate, precise thing I had ever attempted. It required almost no power, but an immense amount of focus.
The Magi's seeking spell washed over us. For a heart-stopping second, I felt it brush against my dusty veil. It was like a hand searching for a shape in the dark, and my veil was like a piece of soft cloth that muffled the touch. The spell registered the cliff, the roots, the dirt... but it slid right over the two living, breathing anomalies hiding behind them.
The pressure receded. The Magi lowered their hands, a flicker of uncertainty on their face. They scanned the cliffside one last time with their naked eyes, their gaze passing right over our hiding spot without seeing us. After a tense moment, the Magi gave a sharp command. The patrol resumed its march, their boots once again pounding a steady rhythm as they continued north along the road.
We waited until the sound of their marching had completely faded into the distance. Only then did I let my concentration lapse. The dust veil dispersed into the breeze. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, my body trembling with the strain of the delicate work.
Kael slumped against the rock wall, his face pale but etched with a profound relief. "I didn't even feel that," he whispered, a new level of awe in his voice. "It wasn't magic. It was... nothing. How?"
"I just asked the dust to be a little bit thicker," I replied, my voice shaky.
We had survived. But the road ahead was now clearly marked as enemy territory. Our path inland had just become far more dangerous.