The desert did not return to silence.
The wind came back… but different.
It did not drag sand.
It organized it.
Invisible lines formed beneath their feet. Currents that did not follow chaos… but intention.
Antony moved first.
"Stay together."
No one answered.
The group was already moving as one.
In the distance, the necropolis grew in size and presence. No longer a point on the horizon.
It was destiny.
The ground trembled.
Faint at first.
Then constant.
"Below," Yaotl said.
The sand opened in multiple places.
Figures emerged.
Warriors.
Bodies formed from compacted sand. Primitive weapons. Clumsy movements… but coordinated.
"First filter," Vahram muttered.
"Don't underestimate them," Antony replied.
The first attacked.
Arlo intercepted.
Direct impact.
The enemy did not fall.
It reformed.
Ainara moved from the flank.
Precise cut.
The body split… but rejoined.
"Cutting isn't enough," she said.
"Then we break the structure," Vahram replied.
Direct strike.
The torso collapsed.
This time, it did not rise.
Osiris advanced.
Clean movement.
Eliminated another without wasting energy.
"They're not individuals," Yaotl said. "They're an extension of the terrain."
Antony understood.
"Then we move forward."
The group broke through the enemy line.
No retreat.
No hesitation.
Pure coordination.
Arlo absorbed impact.
Ainara created space.
Vahram destroyed.
Osiris executed.
Yaotl read.
Antony led.
The fight did not last.
It resolved.
The sand fell again.
Silence returned.
But now…
the necropolis stood before them.
Colossal.
Ancient.
Imposing.
And at its base…
four unmoving figures.
Waiting.
Antony tightened his grip on the sword.
"Now…"
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