The desert stretched endlessly before them — a barren sea of gold and bone. Wind howled across the dunes like voices mourning the dead. The army of Zorenthia moved through it in steady, thunderous waves — armor clanking, banners snapping beneath a sun that burned white as ash.
At the front rode King Heidra, his crimson cloak snapping behind him. His horse, a black stallion named Volmir, stamped restlessly at the sand, snorting fire through its nostrils. Beside him, Endro rode in silence, one hand on his sword and the other gripping the reins as though his very will held the army together.
Behind them marched the commanders — Peter, a swordsman with a scarred jaw and eyes that had seen too many wars; Mandy, the strategist whose calm voice could turn chaos into order; Axtin, fierce and loyal, leading the vanguard; Marley, who carried the royal banner high despite his youth; Denku, the scholar-turned-mystic who had begged to remain behind but was forced to march; Morzeal, the priest of fire who claimed to hear the gods in every flame; Martins, commander of the southern division; and Kebo, the quiet assassin who trusted no one — not even the king he served.
They were the Eight Pillars of Fire, chosen by Heidra himself. Yet none spoke much now. The heat silenced even the proudest tongues.
---
By the third day, the dunes had grown steeper. The wind carried strange sounds — faint murmurs that slipped through the air like whispers in a dream.
"Do you hear that?" Marley asked, glancing nervously around.
"It's the wind," Axtin grunted, wiping sweat from his brow. "The desert plays tricks on fools."
But Denku shook his head. "No. These are not tricks. The Valley of Whispers is near."
Heidra turned toward him, his eyes burning with that unnatural red glow since the ritual. "Speak plainly, scholar."
Denku swallowed hard. "My king… the valley is cursed. They say the spirits of the first kings sleep beneath the sand. Those who enter hear voices — the echo of their own greed."
Heidra smirked. "Then let them speak. I have nothing to hide."
But as they rode on, the murmurs grew louder. Soon, even the horses snorted and shied away. The whispers seemed to call each man by name.
> "Peter… you killed for gold."
"Axtin… you envy your king."
"Endro… you fear him."
The men gritted their teeth, pretending not to hear, but fear began to coil like smoke through their ranks.
---
By dusk, the army had reached the valley. It was a vast, sunken basin of gray sand and twisted stone pillars that rose like broken teeth from the earth. In the center lay an enormous crater, its edges lined with strange black crystals that pulsed faintly — as if breathing.
Heidra raised his hand. "Here," he said. "Here lies the path to the Orb."
Denku's eyes widened. "This… this place is wrong. We should not stay here after dark."
Heidra dismounted. "The Orb waits for no coward. Prepare the tents."
Reluctantly, the soldiers obeyed.
---
As night fell, the valley changed. The heat bled away, replaced by an eerie chill. The stars above shimmered like eyes, and the moon — enormous and silver — rose slowly over the cliffs. Its light spilled across the sands like milk, and the black crystals began to hum.
Endro couldn't sleep. He walked the perimeter of the camp, feeling the air vibrate with energy. Then he heard it — a soft laugh. A woman's laugh, distant but clear.
He turned sharply, drawing his blade. "Who's there?"
A shadow stood among the stones — tall, graceful, and crowned in light. Her hair floated like mist, and her eyes glowed silver.
It was Erdriel.
"Lay down your blade, son of men," she said, her voice echoing like music through water. "Your king walks toward his doom."
Endro hesitated, lowering his sword slightly. "If this is a trick—"
"Does your heart not already know the truth?" she interrupted. "Heidra's fire burns too hot. Soon, it will consume not only him, but all of Zorenthia."
Endro took a step closer. "Then stop him."
"I cannot," she said sadly. "Balance must be restored by those who still have choice. The king is bound by his hunger; only his bloodline may break it."
"His son?"
Erdriel nodded. "Prince Adi. The moon has chosen him — and the one who walks beside him."
"Siegel," Endro whispered.
Erdriel smiled faintly. "Love is the one power even the gods cannot command. But it may yet heal what fire destroyed."
Before Endro could speak again, she was gone — melted into the light. The stones glimmered faintly, then fell silent.
---
At dawn, the king stood at the crater's edge, staring down into its black depths.
"Behold," he said, "the mouth of the world."
Denku stepped forward, trembling. "My king, if the Orb lies there, it is not meant to be touched. That darkness… it is alive."
Heidra turned on him, his voice like thunder. "Then it shall serve me or perish!"
He raised his staff, and flames erupted from the ground. The crater roared in response, a swirling storm of red and black light spiraling upward. The soldiers fell to their knees as the sand began to rise, forming the faint outline of a massive door beneath the surface — carved with sigils older than any kingdom.
"The gate," Denku whispered in horror. "He's opening the gate."
Heidra thrust his staff forward, and the door split open. From within poured a blinding light — not of warmth, but of hunger.
Every torch in the camp went out. The valley became still. Then the whispers returned — not soft this time, but screaming.
Endro rushed forward, shouting, "My king! Stop! You'll unleash—"
But Heidra was no longer listening. His body glowed with red fire, his eyes blazing brighter than before. The light swallowed him, and for a moment, all of Zorenthia trembled.
When it was over, Heidra stood alone at the crater's edge, breathing heavily. The door had sealed again. The sand was blackened. The soldiers dared not approach.
Heidra turned slowly toward them. "The Orb is awake," he said quietly. "And it obeys me now."
But far above, on the cliffs, Erdriel watched — her expression grim. "He has touched the gate," she whispered. "And now… the stars will remember his name."