The smoke from the battle still clung to the air when Amon led Kael and Sena through a narrow side passage of the Sanctum.
They emerged into a courtyard of carved stone where a single pool of water reflected the blazing sunset.
Sitting beside the pool was a woman wrapped in flowing indigo cloth, her face hidden behind a veil of gold chains.
Before her lay a sandglass, each grain glimmering faintly as it fell.
"The Seer of Luxor," Sena said quietly.
The Seer's head tilted, though her veil hid her expression. "Daughter of the Feather, Son of the Staff… you walk in the shadow of a man who would see the world rebuilt in his image."
Kael stepped closer. "Ottalaus."
The Seer's hand brushed over the sandglass, and the falling grains slowed, then froze entirely.
In the stillness, images formed in the glass: the Ruyi Jingu Bang, but shorter, brighter, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Beside it, a second piece — jagged at one end, perfectly fitting the first.
"You wield only half of what was made," she said. "The other sleeps far from here, in a land of rivers and gods older than the desert. India."
Kael stared into the frozen sand. "If I find it, will I have the power to end him?"
The Seer's voice was low but unshaking. "If you find it, you will have the power to stand before him. What you do then… is yours to choose."
The sand began to fall again, and the images dissolved.
Amon stepped forward, placing a hand on Kael's shoulder. "Then your path is clear. But India is far, and the sands between here and there are treacherous."
Sena glanced at her father. "You'll be with us in the end?"
"When the time comes," Amon said, the Eye of Ra catching the last light of the sun, "the desert will march with you."
They left Luxor before dawn.
The desert stars faded slowly into the pale light of morning as Kael and Sena joined a merchant caravan heading east, their mounts kicking up trails of sand.
Amon stood at the Sanctum's gates until they vanished from sight, the Eye of Ra gleaming faintly in his palm.
The first days passed without incident — endless dunes, sunburnt horizons, and nights where the cold bit deeper than Kael expected. But on the fourth night, the desert brought more than wind.
It began as a faint glimmer far behind them. By the time the moon was high, the glimmer had grown into a column of riders, their weapons catching the silver light.
Sena's eyes narrowed. "They've been following since midday."
Kael didn't slow his mount. "Ottalaus?"
"Maybe," she said. "Or someone working in his shadow."
When the riders struck, it was with precision — arrows tipped in green light, the hiss of artificial relics cutting through the night air.
Kael swung the Ruyi Jingu Bang, its length flashing gold as he deflected the first volley. His clones spilled into the sand, scattering the attackers' formation.
Sena's chakram curved wide before snapping back like hunting falcons, tearing weapons from enemy hands.
But their leader was different.
He rode a pale, armored beast, and in his grip was a spear of unfamiliar make — its shaft of silver, its head a swirl of steel and jade.
"Step aside," the man called, "and you might live to see the sea."
Kael blocked another strike. "Not happening."
The man's laughter was sharp, almost mocking. "Then when you reach the rivers, tell them the forges of the misted isles know your names."
And just like that, the riders disengaged, vanishing into the dunes as quickly as they'd come.
Sena watched the sands where they'd disappeared. "Misted isles," she murmured. "Far across the sea. I've heard whispers… of a king who wears no face."
Kael exhaled slowly. "Whoever they are, they're watching us."
The caravan master urged them onward, and the desert swallowed the trail. But the name — or perhaps the lack of one — stayed with them, an echo from somewhere far away, across waters they hadn't yet sailed.