Vale looked up at the colossal wyvern, a sad smile resting on his lips. For a long while, neither of them moved. They simply stared at one another, a boy and a guardian, flesh and stone, two beings shaped by the same harsh desert.
Slowly, sand slid from the wyvern's rock-like scales as its massive body fully emerged from the dunes. Grain by grain, the desert relinquished it, until the creature stood tall before Vale like a living mountain. Its presence was overwhelming. It could crush him without effort, reduce him to nothing with a careless step. Yet its expression remained unreadable, ancient and calm.
Vale didn't flinch.
Instead, he felt the familiar stir of darkness behind him.
He raised a brow and calmly reached over his shoulder, drawing the spear before tossing it aside a short distance. The weapon struck the sand, and was immediately swallowed by shadow. Darkness surged upward, folding and shaping itself until Shade emerged once more.
Ruby eyes fixed on the wyvern, not with hostility, but with something closer to wonder.
Slowly, almost cautiously, Shade approached. He raised one hand, hesitating for a moment, then extended it toward the massive creature as if trying to pet it, like a child reaching out to touch something far larger than themselves.
Vale smiled faintly at the sight. The sadness returned, soft and heavy.
He lowered himself to the ground, pulling his knees in as he watched the two figures regard one another, shadow and stone, curiosity mirrored in both. His thoughts, unanchored now, drifted once again.
He realized then what had been gnawing at him.
He missed them.
Callum. Evelyn. Rose. Tharion. Caesar. All the people he had met when he first arrived in their world. They had treated him well, better than he had expected. He had laughed with them, fought alongside them, shared quiet moments and loud ones alike.
He wasn't worried about them.
He simply missed them.
His gaze dropped to the sand, his expression tightening.
But there were others.
Chrome, Ember, Korin and Nym.
Even Nym, despite making it painfully clear that she no longer considered him a friend. For reasons he couldn't explain, Vale still felt like hers. Still felt connected, even if she rejected that bond entirely.
He exhaled slowly.
He had no idea where any of them were now.
His connection with Ember had weakened severely. Sometimes, only sometimes, he felt what the young wyvern felt. And it was almost always the same: pain, fear, fury.
It told him everything he needed to know.
Ember was fighting for his life.
The thought hollowed Vale's chest. Ember wasn't just a companion, he was family. The idea of losing him twisted something deep inside Vale, something raw and unguarded.
And then there were Illu, August, Hurricane.
They were out there too. Alone.
They had potential, great potential, but potential meant nothing without time. And Vale wasn't certain the ravens had been given enough of it.
The more he thought, the darker his mood became.
Then the wyvern moved.
Gently, almost impossibly so, it stepped closer and lowered itself beside Vale. One massive wing unfurled and wrapped around him, enclosing him in stone and warmth like an oversized blanket. The gesture was protective, quiet, unmistakably intentional.
Vale didn't resist.
He leaned into it, his thoughts continuing, unhindered.
Chrome…
If Chrome had come here, truly come here, it would seal the machine's fate. Chrome functioned on Harmonic atum. There was no Compatible atum in this land. No system to sustain him.
And if Chrome was somewhere dangerous, like Vale and Eskar were now,
A bitter taste filled Vale's mouth.
"He would die," Vale whispered.
He stared at the sand, jaw tightening.
He didn't want to lose any of them. He had just found them. In this strange, hostile world… would he really lose them all before he could even see them again?
He bit his lip, silently protesting the thought, even as he knew he couldn't deny it.
Footsteps in the sand drew his attention.
Shade approached, slower than before. When Vale looked up, he froze. Shade's eyes held an expression he had never seen from him, something uncertain. Something searching.
"Are you… pitying me?" Vale asked quietly.
Shade didn't answer right away.
Instead, he knelt and extended a finger, pressing it into the sand. Darkness traced his movement as he wrote slowly, deliberately.
''There is no shame in caring.''
Vale's eyes widened slightly.
A gentle smile spread across his face, genuine and unguarded. Shade extended his fist toward him. Vale raised his own and met it, the contact light but meaningful.
Shade seemed to smile, though his mouth was impossible to see.
Then he dissolved once more, shadow folding inward until the spear lay in the sand again. Vale caught it easily and set it beside him before leaning back against the wyvern's wing.
He stared up at the vast night sky, the single moon casting pale light across the desert.
"No shame in caring, huh?" Vale murmured softly. "Didn't know you had it in you."
The darkness above felt less oppressive now.
His thoughts didn't vanish, but they loosened their grip. He didn't force them away. He simply accepted that letting them consume him now would accomplish nothing.
He was almost at Irea.
And there, there he would learn who had survived.
There, he might see his friends again.
Slowly, Vale closed his eyes, though he kept his ears open. He listened to the desert with practiced focus, filtering the wind, the shifting sand, and the distant, unfamiliar sounds for anything that might signal danger. Nothing came. Eventually, exhaustion claimed him, and he slipped into sleep without realizing it.
Morning arrived quietly.
Vale woke to the pale light of dawn creeping across the dunes and the familiar heat already settling into his bones. He rose, stretched, and continued the journey as if nothing had changed. There were occasional scorpions along the way, large, aggressive things that forced him and Eskar to draw their weapons, but they were little more than interruptions. The rhythm of travel remained steady.
This time, Vale did not pretend his emotions were something they were not.
He let them exist.
Eskar had done the opposite for far too long, burying his thoughts, dismissing his fears, until they festered and ultimately led him down the path that ended in his demise. Vale had seen the cost of that kind of denial firsthand. He had no intention of becoming another victim of his own mind.
So he walked, thought and felt.
And endured.
Day after day, they pressed forward, the desert slowly changing beneath their feet. The sand grew finer, the wind carried a faint hint of salt, and the air itself felt heavier. They were nearing the ocean, the final stretch of their journey.
Weeks passed like this.
Then they encountered their next true obstacle.
Drago stopped suddenly before a tall dune, his movement abrupt enough to draw both Vale's and Eskar's attention. The old man's eyes were wide, wider than usual, and fixed on something beyond the crest of sand.
Vale tilted his head, suspicion creeping across his face.
Eskar slowed as well, instinctively shifting his grip on the handmade pouch that held the crimson egg. He glanced between Vale and Drago, his expression tense and questioning.
For a moment, Drago said nothing.
Then he ground his teeth and muttered a curse under his breath before turning toward them.
"Alright," he said grimly, "bad news."
Vale crossed his arms. "That's not exactly specific," he replied calmly.
Drago exhaled sharply. "As you know, the desert guardian left several days ago. We're only three days from the sea now, and I assumed, mistakenly, that meant we were beyond the range of any serious threats."
He paused, jaw tightening.
"Well," he continued, irritation clear in his voice, "it seems both the guardian and I were wrong."
Vale raised a brow. "What is it?" he asked, his tone measured but alert.
Drago hesitated. The old man bit his lip, clearly weighing his words, before finally speaking.
"It's a desert tyrant," he said quietly.
The air seemed to grow heavier.
"A Category Four."