As they approached the arid outskirts of the desert, the biting chill of Frostmere was replaced by a relentless, baking heat. To survive the shifting sands and the searing sun, Elysium and Alastor traded their heavy northern furs for the light, protective garments of the desert wayfarers.
Elysium's attire consisted of midnight-colored linen and flexible leather, designed to offer protection without sacrificing agility. Her slim midriff remained exposed to catch the dry breeze, while her arms were wrapped in durable, dark fabric secured by ornate bracers. A deep black hood and cowl draped over her head and shoulders, leaving only her eyes visible to the harsh environment. Around her waist sat a heavy leather belt and a patterned sash etched with the swirling motifs of a distant land, keeping her gear snug against her hips as she navigated the dunes.
Alastor opted for layers of sand-dusted charcoal silk and sturdy canvas, allowing for ease of movement during combat. A broad, patterned mantle with frayed edges sat heavy upon his shoulders, pinned by a dark cowl that masked his features against the swirling dust. His forearms were bound in thick leather wraps and metallic gauntlets, one hand adorned with jeweled rings and protective plating that caught the desert glare. Beneath the flowing fabrics of his loose trousers and belted tunic, he looked less like a prince and more like a ghost of the dunes.
When they reached the borders, sandstone buildings carved with geometric patterns towered over them. A large sandstone wall stood between them and the heart of the city. A man wearing a thick tunic with his face covered walked toward the entrance, a knife in hand. He was ready to attack before he saw who they were. He dropped his weapon immediately and opened the gates for them, nodding politely as Alastor's horse trotted through the sand-covered road.
Inside the city sat colorful tiled courtyards and latticed windows that cast patterned shadows. The open-air markets were draped in dyed silk, and tall, flat rooftops were built for sleeping under the stars. They found a nearby stable to hold Alastor's horse for the night. Camels trotted down the roads with civilians atop them. Wind moved like a whisper through the narrow streets, and the metallic clink of a soldier's armor echoed through the stone passageways. Market bargaining occurred in sharp, fast dialects. The city smelled of spiced meats and frankincense, and the sun wasn't just warm; it was oppressive. Elysium thrived in the light, but it was much more difficult for Alastor, who was most powerful in the shadows.
Dathir was powerful because of its trade routes, military discipline, and water control. Here, power was currency, and water theft was punishable by death. Official military patrols strolled the city every night, searching for desert raiders. Nothing went unobserved.
Alastor and Elysium stopped in front of a nearby door where a man in his early forties emerged from behind a curtain. General Zayn Al-Kharid was controlled, intimidating, and immaculately dressed in layered desert armor. He spoke softly but believed in order above mercy. He embraced Elysium, smiling down at her.
"How has your journey been so far?" he asked, leading them through the busy streets.
"It's certainly been intense," she sighed. "But we're over halfway there."
Zayn had yet to acknowledge the Dark Prince; he kept his eyes glued on the Princess. Each realm and kingdom was more than willing to help Elysium. Not only was Alaria their ally, but if Lupus succeeded in his plan, every realm would be at risk. Elysium and Alastor were their only hope.
"It's so damn hot here," Alastor muttered, irritated.
"You mistake our heat for chaos. Nothing survives here without discipline," Zayn replied. He then turned to Elysium. "You glow. That makes you visible. Visibility is dangerous here."
They reached a small market kiosk and scanned for anything useful. Elysium bought some new boots and a jug of water. Alastor remained in the shadows, hiding in the dark alley next door. Elysium rolled her eyes when she saw him.
"What a baby," she muttered to herself.
Suddenly, her head shot around when she heard a scream from behind her. A few feet ahead sat a caravan with a woman crouched on top of it, a small blade in hand. She appeared to be in her late twenties and was sun-scarred: Najama Anubis. She was strategic, not reckless. As captain of the desert raiders, she held a deep resentment toward the kingdom's water taxation.
Najama's attire was crafted from supple, midnight leather and breathable charcoal linen, tailored for both stealth and speed. A tight bodice of dark, embossed hide protected her waist while her arms were bound in corded wraps. Her head was enveloped in a heavy black hood and cowl that masked her features, designed to keep the abrasive dust at bay while allowing her violet eyes to scan the horizon. Around her waist, a thick leather belt sat heavy with pouches, securing the flowing skirts that allowed her to move without hindrance through the dunes.
Clutching her blade, she stabbed down into the top of the caravan carrying several jugs of fresh water. The crowd scattered into their homes, afraid of her. Elysium's eyes glanced over to Alastor, who simply sat with his back against the wall, amused. Elysium stepped toward the stopped caravan and looked up at Najama. Najama rose to her feet and towered over Elysium, her eyes darkening.
"You believe in reason? Reason doesn't fill wells." Her eyes then moved to Alastor, who wore a wide grin. "Najama Anubis," Alastor said, stepping into the light. "It's been a while."
Elysium blinked. "You know her?"
"Chaos comforts chaos," Najama replied coolly, arms folded across her chest.
Elysium chewed her lip, her eyes narrowing. Najama hopped off the caravan, her feet hitting the sand. She strolled over to Alastor, bowing her head in respect. Elysium frowned at the two, folding her arms. Alastor embraced Najama and looked down at her. Even with someone as tall and lean as Najama, Alastor still towered over her.
"I've heard the news," she said quietly. "I wish you luck on your journey, Your Highness."
"I think we'll be just fine," Elysium cut in, furrowing her brows.
Najama shot Alastor a look and snickered under her breath. "Since you're going to be here for the night," Najama traced Alastor's shoulder with her finger, "you should come to our celebration tonight."
Alastor's eyes lit up at the mention of a party, especially at night. Najama's eyes flickered to Elysium, and her lips curved into a smile. "It might be too intense for you, Princess," she sneered.
Elysium scoffed and stormed away toward the palace. Suddenly, she stopped when she overheard two villagers mention her name.
"Elysium is our only hope," one said, their voice nervous.
"For someone as fragile as her, I'm not sure if she'll succeed."
Elysium felt her heart drop. She held her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle a gasp. When she turned the corner toward the palace, she could feel pairs of eyes on her, watching her every move.
The horizon was dominated by a structure that seemed less built and more dreamed into existence. It was a sprawling complex of ivory stone, practically gasping under the weight of its own intricate ornamentation. Arches leapt from one pillar to the next in sharp, horseshoe points, creating a rhythm of shadow and light. The palace blocked the blistering sun from Elysium's face as it started to set. She pulled her scarf up further over her mouth, trying to stay as incognito as possible. When she reached the palace gates, two guards opened the doors for her, and she walked into the tiled hallway. The golden palace was lined with decor and intricate carvings across the arches. At the end of the walkway sat a throne, and upon that throne was Prince Rashid Sahar.
Prince Rashid was the political heir to the throne. In his early twenties, he had become one of the most charming men in the city. He was educated, elegant, and subtly hid a dangerous side. Prince Rashid sat above Elysium on his throne, his chin resting on his knuckles. The young Prince possessed a sun-etched beauty that felt like a tactical advantage. Draped in ivory linens and heavy, hammered gold, he was the picture of courtly elegance. His dark, bright eyes were observant, and there was a lean, predatory stillness to his posture that suggested the emerald-encrusted daggers at his hip were far from decorative. With his dark hair falling over his mocha eyes, his jawline looked as though it had been carved from stone.
Elysium curtsied, and he rose from his throne, his gold and turquoise amulets clinking against each other. His eyes narrowed as he walked down the tiled steps. His muscular calves flexed with every stride. He was a tall man, nearly as tall as Alastor. He bowed to Elysium, kissing her hand gently.
"I'm glad you've decided to take refuge here tonight, Princess," Rashid said, a wide smile across his face. Then, he paused and furrowed his brows. "But where is the Dark Prince?"
Elysium groaned and rubbed her forehead. "We'll have to go and drag him from the raiders," she said, shaking her head.
Rashid clicked his tongue and ran his hands through his curls. The moon had already risen, leaving them little time to rest. Elysium trudged behind Rashid as he led her to the stables, where he untied his white Arabian horse.
"This is Zayd," Rashid said gently, stroking the horse's muzzle.
Elysium smiled and pressed her hand against Zayd's flank. Rashid mounted Zayd, then reached his hand down to pull Elysium up. Elysium wrapped her arms around Rashid's waist as they wandered into the outskirts of Dathir. Rashid's shoulder blocked the tiny grains of sand from her eyes as the aggressive desert winds picked up. They stopped once they reached a cliff. The market hung from the cliffside like a cluster of sun-bleached nests—a vertical canyon where the city met the sky. Orange canopies stretched between the jagged rock faces to provide patches of shade for the merchants below. The smell of wine and smoke filled the air, and Elysium crinkled her nose in disgust. There was a rhythmic swaying of camels at the base and the distant, echoing cries of traders floating down from the highest stone balconies.
Elysium looked up and saw lights dancing between the canopies. The sounds of music carried through the cliffside, and small pockets inside the cliff held huts for the raiders. Rashid walked in front of Elysium, his eyes fixed on his surroundings. He pulled his scimitar from his belt and held it blade-down as they walked, sand picking up beneath their feet.
Elysium felt the shift in the air before she heard a sound. As she stepped into the Raider's enclave, the rhythmic scraping of whetstones and the low rumble of coarse laughter died into a singular, suffocating silence. She caught her reflection in a polished bronze shield leaning against a tent and finally understood why. Her new attire was a whisper of cream-colored silk that clung to her skin like a second, more vulnerable layer of defense. The top, cinched with a band of hammered gold coins, left her midriff exposed to the biting desert wind, while her arms were decorated with matching bands that glimmered in the moonlight. As the male raiders began to snicker, she realized she didn't look like a leader to them; she looked like a prize.
The raiders' heads were covered with scarves, so she only heard muffled snickers and hollers. Rashid angrily watched the men look her up and down. A group of scouts by a camel line nudged each other, their eyes tracking the way the delicate fabric of her skirt caught the wind.
"I detest these people," Rashid growled under his breath.
The pair approached a wooden table outside one of the huts where a group of men huddled with pints of ale. With their faces hidden, it was hard to tell which one spoke first.
"Tell me, Princess, how many golden coins would it take to lose that scrap of clothing?" a low voice sneered, followed by a chorus of laughs.
Rashid pulled Elysium behind him, shielding her with his body. When Elysium peeked around him, the men's demeanor had completely changed. They straightened, silently bowing their heads to their Prince.
"I could have you executed for your water trades," Rashid said, his eyes flickering between them.
The men swallowed, shrinking back. Before Rashid could say another word, a loud voice echoed through the canyon.
"The cavalry's here!" Alastor shouted drunkenly, emerging from the shadows.
Standing in the teal-hued shadows of the enclave, Alastor could barely stand as he cursed under his breath. Teal silk draped across one shoulder, the cool color shining. Alastor's adornments were heavy, darkened silver. Wide, etched bracers encased his forearms, and a thick belt of metal plates sat low on his hips, designed to hold the weight of a sword. A single dark bindi rested between his brows. Elysium started to stomp toward him, but she halted when she saw Najama's fingers wrapped around his bicep.
Najama looked less like a resident of the sands and more like the desert itself given human form. Her new dress was a striking balance of shadow and sunset, designed to catch the light even in the darkest corners of the canyon. A gossamer veil of deep orange silk draped over her head and shoulders. Beneath the veil, she wore a midnight-black bodice and skirt that seemed to absorb the glare of the sun, providing a stark canvas for her gold jewelry. Each step she took sent a metallic chime through the air from the dozens of gold bangles on her arms and a belt of delicate chains on her hips.
As beautiful as Najama was, the raiders didn't snicker at her. In fact, the air grew tense with each step she took. Her violet eyes peered out from beneath her veil. Elysium swallowed, stepping back. Alastor's broad arm was wrapped around Najama's shoulder, and he nearly stumbled over her feet because his eyes were so planted on her. Najama let out a squeal as Alastor picked her up by her waist and lifted her over his shoulder. He set her down and leaned in to kiss her.
In that moment, it felt like time stood still. Elysium felt her throat close and her eyes widen. Her face fell, and she began to feel nauseous. Flushing, Elysium turned around, huddling near one of the fire pits. She tried to hide her startled expression by the time the couple reached Rashid. Rashid placed his hands on his hips, staring down at Najama. Her eyes grew more intense the longer he looked at her. Alastor was too intoxicated to have a clue what was going on; he could barely stand on his own. Elysium stood frozen next to the fire, glaring at Alastor, whose hands were pressed on either side of the canyon wall. His dark hair fell over his face, and she could hear him muttering. Rashid stood a few feet in front of Elysium, scolding Najama, but their argument was drowned out by Elysium's mysterious rage toward Alastor.
When Alastor lifted his head, his eyes flickered to Elysium. She felt her breath catch and quickly looked away. She heard him snicker behind her.
"What?" he shoved his hands in the air. "It's my turn to have some fun!" he exclaimed, swiping another pint of ale from the table. One of the raiders scoffed, rolling his eyes. His look quickly faded when Alastor glared at him.
"Keep laughing. I want to see if your throat makes that same sound when there's an inch of steel in it," Alastor hissed, his voice low.
The man swallowed and sat back; he had forgotten who he was talking to. The Dark Prince lacked any sort of sympathy; he was a man who hid his tyranny behind charm and good looks.
Elysium rolled her eyes and let her arms drop. Her head shot around when she heard her name mentioned. Najama's fists were clenched, her eyes burning with anger.
"You really think that she's powerful enough for this?" Her eyes shifted over to Elysium. "She's pathetic."
Najama brushed past Rashid, quickening her pace until she was inches from Elysium. Her jaw tightened as she looked Elysium up and down, then she clicked her tongue.
"This is who you think can save us?" She wasn't only talking to Rashid; she was yelling loud enough for the raiders. Elysium could see the raiders' heads peeking out from the caves, listening. Najama had captured the attention of everyone except Alastor, who was barely managing to stay awake.
"Sheol and Dathir are enemies," she nodded toward Alastor. "And we possess both light and dark magic here."
"What are you implying?" Rashid asked, his voice strong.
"That it should be me," Najama's eyes switched to Elysium. "If you want a guaranteed success, you'll step down."
Elysium felt her chest tighten, and she began to hyperventilate. She felt as though someone were wrapping their fists tightly around her neck. Najama stalked her like a predator.
"She couldn't even protect her own kingdom," Najama's voice echoed through the canyons. Elysium could hear cheers of agreement from the raiders. They looked at her as a joke.
"Instead," Najama continued, her voice sharp as knives, "she actually believed a man would fall for her and walked right into his trap." She was now inches away from Elysium's face. "No one can love weakness."
Elysium could feel her eyes starting to well up. She chewed her lip, fighting back tears. Her throat burned as she softly choked back her sobs. She pushed her hair behind her ears and turned away, trying to hide her watering eyes.
She suddenly shot around when she heard a sneer from behind her.
"You can't be serious," Alastor said, pushing against the canyon wall with one arm.
Najama knitted her brows together, folding her arms. "Excuse me?"
Alastor towered over Najama, his eyes turning dark. It was as if he had morphed into a different person. His face was hard as stone, his eyes dangerous.
"I have slaughtered kings for less than what you just implied." A tilt of his head. "Choose your next words with reverence."
Najama's face fell. Her eyes, once blazing with confidence, were now pierced with fear. She looked down at the ground submissively and stepped backward. But Alastor wasn't done. He pointed his finger at her, his eyes hazy from the liquor.
"The only reason she doesn't have it yet…" He glanced at Elysium. "…is because she hasn't decided to take it."
Najama was frozen, her cheeks red with humiliation. Her eyes shot to Elysium with a look of such loathing that Elysium could practically feel the anger radiating off her. She swallowed, her eyes switching between Najama and Alastor.
Alastor stumbled toward Elysium and dropped his head on her shoulder, sweat sticking to his back. Elysium was too paralyzed to peel him off. Instead, she grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her shoulder.
Rashid ordered the raiders to provide a horse, and a black Arabian mare was led to Elysium. She and Rashid both pushed Alastor's drunken body onto the saddle. Elysium hopped in front of Alastor, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She felt her breath hitch but tried to focus, snapping the reins. They galloped back to the castle. Alastor had regained some use of his legs, but his body tilted side to side as Elysium led him through the tiled hallways to his bedroom. She pushed the door open, half-carrying his weight, and dragged him over to the cot. Alastor slumped onto the blankets and tossed onto his back, staring at her.
"I like your little outfit," he grinned, his eyes tracing over her bare midriff.
Elysium's face turned red, and she quickly snapped around to snatch a blanket from the cot, wrapping it around her shoulders.
"I've been objectified enough today," she mumbled, kicking a small stone near the edge of the bed. She turned her back to him and began to toy with the ends of her hair. "She's right," Elysium said quietly.
Alastor cocked his head to the side, his once-menacing eyes now holding a soft look. "Huh?"
Elysium sighed and turned to face him. Alastor's face softened, and he sat up, leaning against the headboard.
"She could guarantee success," she said, biting her fingernails. "You've said it yourself. I am weak."
Alastor's eyes fell to his lap. He clenched his jaw, folding his arms. Elysium hugged her shoulders, standing near the window. She looked out at the desert, the moon hanging overhead. She felt she was incapable of carrying on her family's name and shook her head, fighting back tears.
Alastor let out a humorless laugh, his head rolling slightly against the pillow. "Weak?" His eyes dragged up to her. "You walked into my kingdom alone." Alastor's voice was still poisoned with liquor. "Do you know how many men twice your size tremble at the thought of me?"
He scoffed softly. "You're the only person in this cursed realm who looks at me without flinching." His voice dropped. "Do you know what that makes you?"