Chapter 26 – The Shifting Sands
Ilin slept long and deep on the starlight platform. The chilling pain from the Void Stalkers had taken its toll, but when she woke, the blue shimmer in her eyes was a little stronger, a reassuring flicker.
"How are you feeling?" I asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Like I can feel my feet again," she said with a weary smile. "The stars are pretty, though."
Ael was already at the portal platform, his form a silent silhouette against the cosmic backdrop. "The next Anchor lies in the Shifting Sands. It is a desert of constant motion, where dunes rise and fall like waves."
Mara sighed, picking at a cut on her arm. "Another desert? Can't we have a beach episode?"
"The heat there is relentless," Ael continued, unfazed. "And the Guardians are the Sandwraiths. They are intangible until they strike."
Garrick winced, touching a fresh bruise on his cheek. "Great. More ghosts."
I helped Ilin to her feet. She stood tall, though I felt her lean into my side just a little.
We stepped onto the platform. Ael touched the stone; the symbols lit blue, and the oval doorway shimmered, revealing a world of blinding light and endless, rolling sand.
Ilin took my hand. "Ready?"
I nodded. "Ready."
We stepped through.
The world was a vast, blinding expanse of golden sand, stretching to a horizon that blurred in the heat haze. The sky was an unbroken, fierce blue, and the sun beat down with an intensity that made the air shimmer. The ground itself seemed alive, flowing and swirling as if an invisible current pulled at it.
Ilin's staff pulsed, creating a faint, cool current of air around us that offered some reprieve from the oppressive heat.
"The Memory Core says the Anchor is at the Eye of the Desert," she said, squinting at a towering, stable rock formation far in the distance, shaped like a colossal eye peering out of the sand.
Ael nodded. "The Sandwraiths are creatures of illusion and dust. They hide in the heat shimmer."
We began walking. The sand was fine and hot, slipping under our feet with every step, making forward progress a strenuous effort. The dunes rose and fell around us, constantly changing the landscape.
After what felt like an hour, the first Guardians appeared.
They emerged from the shimmering heat haze, indistinct figures woven from swirling sand and heat, their eyes burning like embers. They moved like distortions in the air, barely visible until they were upon us.
Three of them.
Garrick clenched his bleeding knuckles. "Here we go."
The first Sandwraith lunged at Garrick. He swung a punch, his fist passed through the sandy form, and the wraith's sharp, abrasive touch scraped across his chest.
Garrick cried out, a fresh cut appearing on his skin.
The second came at Mara. She swung her broken rebar; it passed through the wraith, and the creature's touch left a stinging red mark on her leg.
The third came at me.
I dodged its ethereal lunge, rolled, and drove my blade into its chest.
The blade passed through, but the Sandwraith recoiled with a hiss of displaced sand.
It grabbed my shoulder — the same shoulder Ilin had healed twelve times.
Pain flared, a burning sensation as if a thousand needles pierced my skin.
I twisted, drove my blade into its neck.
The Sandwraith exploded into a cloud of fine, stinging sand.
I turned to the first Sandwraith. Garrick was clutching his chest, a deep scratch bleeding through his shirt.
Mara was limping, her leg bleeding from a dozen tiny cuts.
Finn was circling the second Sandwraith, his broken pistol now just a heavy lump in his hand.
I ran at the first Sandwraith, jumped, and drove my blade into its chest.
It dispersed into sand.
I turned to the second Sandwraith. It raised its swirling form to strike Finn.
Ilin stepped forward, staff raised.
"Ilin, no!" I shouted, already moving towards her.
"I have to," she said, her voice strained.
She directed the blue light at the Sandwraith.
The creature's swirling form solidified, its ember eyes dimming, becoming a little more than just sand.
I ran and drove my blade into its chest.
It exploded into a cloud of sand, now with the faint smell of ozone.
Ilin dropped to her knees, breathing hard.
I was at her side in two steps, catching her before she collapsed into the scorching sand.
"You used healing," I said, cradling her.
"Only a little," she whispered, her face pale.
"You promised," I said, my voice tight with fear.
"I couldn't let it hurt Finn," she said, her eyes already fluttering closed.
I lifted her and carried her to a small, miraculously stable patch of rock I found amidst the dunes, offering a sliver of shade.
"You're done," I said, gently laying her down.
"I know," she murmured.
Garrick sat beside us, wincing as he pressed a hand to his chest wound. Mara was tearing strips from her shirt to wrap her leg. Finn stood guard, his gaze sweeping the shimmering dunes.
Ael stood, pointing to the colossal, eye-shaped rock formation in the distance. "The Anchor is within the Eye of the Desert."
I carried Ilin the rest of the way, the journey feeling endless under the relentless sun.
The Eye of the Desert was a colossal natural arch, smooth and dark against the golden dunes, its center an eroded cavern. Inside, sheltered from the sun, was a crystal pulsing with violet light — the Anchor.
Around it stood four Sandwraiths, larger and denser than the others, their forms almost solid, their ember eyes burning with fierce intensity.
Ael's voice was quiet. "The Eye Guardians."
I set Ilin down in a shaded alcove, carefully propping her against the cool rock.
"We do what we've been doing," I said, drawing my blade. "Hold them off while I reach the Anchor."
Garrick nodded, though his face was etched with pain. "Just don't die."
Mara spat a mouthful of sand. "No promises."
Finn nodded, his grip tight on his broken pistol, a grim determination in his eyes.
The four Sandwraiths moved at once, their forms shimmering as they darted through the air.
Garrick met the first, swinging a desperate punch. His fist connected, but the wraith's touch left deep, burning scratches across his arm.
Mara went for the second, kicking with her good leg. The wraith solidified just enough to block her, then clawed at her exposed arm.
Finn went for the third, using his pistol as a blunt weapon. It connected with a sickening thud, but the wraith recoiled and then raked its sandy claws across his face.
The fourth came at me.
I dodged its lunge, rolling under its form, and drove my blade into its side.
The blade connected with more resistance this time, sinking into the dense sand.
The Sandwraith grabbed my shoulder — the same shoulder Ilin had healed thirteen times.
Pain flared, a searing agony that made me gasp.
I twisted, drove my blade deeper, pushing through the sandy resistance.
The Sandwraith shuddered, its form beginning to unravel, then burst into a violent cloud of sand.
I turned to the first Wraiths. Garrick was on his knees, his arm bleeding profusely.
Mara was clutching her shoulder, a deep gash weeping blood.
Finn was on the ground, his face streaked with blood and sand, the third Sandwraith raising its swirling form for a final strike.
The first Sandwraith lunged at the kneeling Garrick.
I ran and jumped onto the Sandwraith's back, driving my blade into the base of its neck.
It exploded into sand.
I turned to the second Sandwraith. Mara was trying to crawl away.
The Sandwraith solidified, preparing to strike. Mara swung her broken rebar in desperation. It bent further but offered no resistance.
I ran and drove my blade into its chest.
It burst into stinging sand.
The third Sandwraith was still poised over Finn.
I ran and drove my blade into its back.
It dispersed into nothingness, releasing Finn.
I looked at the Anchor.
Ilin was on her feet, staff in hand, the crystal glowing a fierce, vibrant blue.
"I can weaken it," she said, her voice stronger than I expected, but her face was stark white.
"Ilin, no," I said, moving towards her, my heart pounding.
"I have to," she said, her eyes fixed on the pulsing violet. "This is the last one I can do for a while."
She raised the staff, and a powerful, blinding beam of blue light shot from its crystal, slamming into the Anchor.
The Anchor pulsed violently, the violet light flaring, then flickering erratically as the blue light enveloped it.
I raised my blade and brought it down on the visible crack, pouring all my remaining strength into the strike.
The blade sank in with a grinding crunch.
The Anchor pulsed, a final, desperate burst of violet light, then dimmed.
A low, resonant hum vibrated through the rock, like the entire desert breathing a sigh of relief.
I hit it again, once, twice, three times, until the crystal fractured into glowing fragments.
The violet light went out completely.
The oppressive heat in the cavern lessened, and the shimmering sand outside seemed to settle, the dunes becoming momentarily still.
Ael placed a hand on my shoulder. "The Anchor is destroyed. The rift in the Shifting Sands is closed."
I turned to Ilin. She was swaying, the vibrant blue light from her staff fading to a faint, exhausted glow.
I caught her before she fell, her body limp against mine.
"You did it," I said, my voice thick with relief and fear.
She opened her eyes, smiling weakly. "We did it."
I carried her to the deepest part of the alcove, laying her gently on a cool patch of sand.
"You rest," I said, covering her with what was left of my torn shirt. "No more, Ilin. Not for a long, long time."
"I know," she whispered, her eyes closing. "I really know this time."
I sat beside her, holding her hand, my own body aching from countless cuts and bruises.
Garrick was leaning against the rock, pressing his shirt to his chest, his breathing ragged. Mara was slumped, trying to tie a makeshift bandage around her arm and leg. Finn was wiping blood from his face, staring at his useless pistol, then at the now-calm desert outside.
Ael stood, his gaze distant, as if already seeing the next journey.
Ilin squeezed my hand, a faint, almost imperceptible pressure. "We did it."
"We did," I said, kissing her forehead.
"You rest," I said again, my voice a plea. "I'll be right here."
"I know," she mumbled, already drifting into sleep.
I stayed, watching her, listening to the soft, rhythmic hush of the settling sand.
The rift in the Shifting Sands was closed.
Ael had said there were many worlds.
I looked at Ilin's peaceful, exhausted face.
We would rest here. This time, we would rest properly.
And then, whatever came next, we would face it together.