"Why," Kazuki rasped, dragging his boots through the blistering dunes, "did I agree to come to this sandblasted oven of a city again?"
"You mean Sel Eran, jewel of the southern dunes?" Uzaki quipped behind him, somehow managing not to melt in her long sleeves and sun hood. "You were the one who said, and I quote, 'It'll be good diplomatic experience.'"
"I thought we'd ride into a cool desert evening and be handed a fruit basket," Kazuki groaned. "Instead, I'm pretty sure my eyebrows just evaporated."
"Don't worry," Hoshino said dryly, sketching in her notebook while walking like it was a casual mountain hike. "You still have your eyebrows. They're just... glistening."
Kaelis, ever the stoic, led the way ahead in silence, cloak snapping in the wind. Leo and Vren had split off earlier to negotiate with Sel Eran's gatekeepers—those armored sun-walkers who, unlike most hosts, didn't seem thrilled about guests arriving on giant thunderbirds.
The golden sandstone city rose from the dunes like a half-buried dream, its domes and towers framed by the ever-whirling desert winds. But beneath its beauty was a prickling tension, a weight in the air that had nothing to do with the heat.
As they approached the gates, two guards flanked by cloaked seers stepped forward. One of them, an elder woman with silver cords braided into her dark hair, narrowed her eyes. "We felt the pulse before you crossed the threshold. One of you carries the storm."
Kaelis bowed slightly. "We've come seeking dialogue, not conflict."
"Conflict is not always loud," the woman replied, gaze shifting to Kazuki. "Some storms whisper."
Kazuki tried to smile. "Do yours come with water?"
"Only if you earn it."
Inside, Sel Eran was a maze of shaded alleys, perfumed markets, and glimmering mirages. Water trickled in suspended cisterns like blessings, and sand-colored silk draped from arches to block the worst of the midday sun. But even in the bustling plaza, tension lingered. Conversations hushed as they passed, eyes followed them, especially Kazuki.
"Everyone's acting like I'm a walking bonfire," he muttered.
"Well," Uzaki said, brushing grit off her sash, "you did glow once in the Aeridian citadel and accidentally summon a lightning vortex. Word travels."
"You set off all the resonance chimes," Hoshino added. "Twice."
"Great," Kazuki sighed. "I'm famous and sweaty."
They were led through spiraling towers until they reached a shaded council hall where Leo, already seated at a circular table of inlaid quartz, stood and gave a nod of welcome. His gryphon, surprisingly well-behaved, waited near the wall like a watchful statue.
Yasira, Sel Eran's High Speaker, sat at the head of the table. Her robes shimmered like hot air, and her eyes were the kind that saw too much. "Leo of the storm-bound riders," she said. "And his son, the one who stirs the dunes."
Kazuki flushed. "Technically, I didn't mean to stir anything."
"Intent means little when the desert shifts." Her voice was firm but not unkind. "And the wind has been whispering of you for days."
There it was again—that strange phrase. Whispers. Wind. At first Kazuki had chalked it up to poetic desert metaphors. But now, as he stood there, the wind brushed against his neck like it recognized him. Like it tasted names.
"You've felt it too," Leo said, gaze locking with Yasira's. "The wind's turning unnatural. Something is stealing its memory."
Hoshino stepped forward, flipping her sketchbook to a page covered in swirling lines and strange sigils. "I drew these after we crossed the western ridges. They weren't there when I looked again. It's like something... erased the symbols."
The council murmured. Yasira leaned in, frowning at the page. "There is a wind that does not blow like others. It unravels what it touches. We call it Zahari's breath. But until now, we thought it only legend."
Uzaki raised an eyebrow. "So the legends are eating people's memories now. Good."
"Not people," Yasira said. "Places. Maps. Trails. Sacred lines in the sand. The wind carries away more than dust. It carries away knowing."
That shut everyone up.
Leo crossed his arms. "This matches what we encountered near the Heart of Cryptos. A twisting force trying to sever the bond between place and power."
"Zargoth's influence," Akari murmured from behind, appearing with a satchel of scrolls. "He's not just attacking with armies—he's trying to erase the pathways magic travels. If no one remembers where power flows, it stops flowing."
Kazuki clenched his fists. "Then we can't just fight it with swords. We need anchors. Memory. Connection."
Yasira regarded him for a long moment. "You speak as if the wind listens to you."
He hesitated. "Sometimes... I think it does."
That night, Kazuki wandered the rooftop gardens with Hoshino and Uzaki while the others strategized indoors. Below them, the desert glittered with eerie stillness, the stars caught in a slow dance with the dunes.
"Do you think she believed us?" Kazuki asked.
Uzaki tilted her head. "She believes something. But Sel Eran isn't like home. They don't respond to storms. They wait for oases."
Hoshino looked thoughtful. "They listen differently. But they're listening."
The wind picked up, brushing against them. This time, Kazuki didn't recoil. He opened his palm.
"You want to show us something," he whispered.
A small spiral of sand coiled in his hand, dancing for a moment, then fading.
Uzaki blinked. "Okay. That's new."
"Yeah," Kazuki breathed. "I didn't summon that."
"So the sand likes you now," Hoshino said, grinning. "Finally, something in this desert does."
From a nearby balcony, Kaelis observed in silence. Behind him, Leo approached with a nod. "He's adapting quickly."
"Too quickly," Kaelis muttered. "What if the desert is shaping him instead of the other way around?"
Leo looked out toward the sands. "Then we'll make sure he remembers who he is—storm, not shadow."
—
The next day, Kazuki stood before the council once more. Yasira rose, flanked by her desert-bound advisors.
"We have deliberated," she began, voice echoing in the marble chamber. "The winds are no longer trustworthy. Our charts fail. Our scouts vanish. But we have not forgotten the old compacts."
She turned to Kazuki. "You are not of the dunes. But the dunes have recognized you. You bear stormfire, but you do not burn indiscriminately. And your companions—" She nodded toward Leo, Uzaki, and Hoshino— "have shown honor."
Uzaki gave a sarcastic little bow. "We're honored to be honorary."
Kazuki elbowed her gently.
Yasira continued, "Sel Eran will not close its gates. We will send with you a guide—someone who knows the shifting paths. And we will begin preparing the Oasis Sigil for reinforcement."
Akari gasped. "The Sigil still exists?"
Yasira's expression remained grave. "Barely. But perhaps, with your help, we can revive it."
The council doors opened, and a figure stepped through—cloaked in gold-threaded linen, eyes veiled.
"This," Yasira said, "is Ilya. She remembers the sands, even when the sands forget themselves."
The woman's eyes found Kazuki's, a flicker of something unreadable in her stormy gaze. "And you, boy with the fire in your bones. Are you the breath that has stirred the dunes these past nights?"
Kazuki shivered, realizing Sel Eran had felt his presence long before he'd crossed its threshold—and that their mission was far from over.