A light breeze

The eternal flame still stood high, casting the desert into a deep, golden light. Everything appeared peaceful, yet a sense of unease gnawed at this noble splendor.

Kael stood motionless, watching as the messenger disappeared over the horizon. He pondered deeply. A great darkness, a storm—what could this mean? Zephyria was thriving, with cities and villages expanding and trade flourishing—why would a threat emerge now?

An external attack seemed senseless, as he had considered before. The natural barrier of the desert and the powerful Ramalkin protected the land. Even if no Sandspear throughout Zephyria took up arms, there was still Talak, the secondary divine beast of their homeland and the guardian of the desert.

No, another country would gain nothing from such a reckless attack. Even if they succeeded, without a bond with Talak, the desert was merely a death zone. Perhaps, Kael thought, the threat came not from without, but from within.

But from where? The leadership was united under the wisdom of Queen Soraya. She herself received her wisdom and guidance directly from her bond with Sirocco. No one would ever doubt her ways. Except for the Al'Shalin, but a civil war with the Al'Shalin was unthinkable.

Maybe other political factions? Kael rubbed his hair vigorously. He had no answers, just as he had no answers for the voice or the shrouded figures he had encountered before.

He knew nothing. And it frustrated him immensely. As if giant faces in the sand proclaiming bad news weren't enough, there came a grand festival, and suddenly the festival was just a pretext to announce even worse news!

Or... if he were to believe the words of the voice... was the darkness perhaps himself?

He shook his head to dispel these ridiculous, self-centered thoughts. It occurred to him that he hadn't told anyone about that night even after a week. Now, it seemed a bit too late. What good would it do? He had made his oath. That wouldn't change.

With turbulent thoughts and numerous questions, Kael headed back to the village square. As he walked, more and more people who had slowly detached from the gathering there approached him.

Naturally, everyone was talking about the festival. There were emotions of joy, excitement, nervousness, and concern. But one thing Kael could discern from every conversation he overheard was a universal belief: this festival was going to be significant—in one way or another.

Upon reaching the village square, Kael scanned the crowd for his mother. His gaze wandered, and as he made eye contact with a woman in a black Sundara, he grimaced.

He had mistakenly identified the wrong Al'Shalin—it was not his mother, but his sister, Safiya. Kael bore no grudge against her for their argument a week ago. After all, such disputes were frequent yet they remained family.

This did not mean he wasn't slightly disdainful.

Reluctantly, he approached Safiya, who, contrary to his obvious grimace, wore a neutral expression. Kael was about to speak when Safiya raised her hand to silence him.

"Before you ask where Umm'an is," said Safiya, "I have a question for you. You've surely thought about our... argument."

Kael initially wanted to protest and not respond, but then he held back and raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Yes, I have. My turn. How did you know I was looking for Mother?"

Safiya chuckled softly.

"So that's how we're playing it? Well, that's probably for the best," she said, standing with her arms crossed in front of her younger brother.

"I knew you were looking for Mother because otherwise you would have no reason to talk to me. Now back to you. Have you decided to do something about it?" she asked.

Kael slowly nodded.

"I understand, that's reasonable. Against what should I do something?" he then asked.

Safiya raised her eyebrows in surprise, as if asking Kael if he was serious.

"Well, against what then. Your uselessness."

Kael twitched an eyelid but then smiled a little himself.

"And have you thought about how you'll seduce the messenger in these grandmother-like clothes of yours?"

Safiya suddenly looked at him sharply and indignantly.

"You... I... how do you know that?!" she said with an angry voice.

Kael burst out laughing as he saw his sister's exasperated reaction. He replied, "Oh dear sister, you've always been like this. You may be a good Al'Shalin, but you'll chase after handsome men your whole life."

"As for your question," he continued with a triumphant smile, "I guessed. I didn't know it, but I could have figured it out. After all, your last love was a bit—"

"Okay, okay!" his sister interrupted him, making a dismissive gesture with her hand, "you've won this time."

Kael nodded in agreement: "Thanks. Can you tell me now where Mother is?"

Safiya sighed and shook her head. Then she pointed in a direction that would lead to the edge of the village: "She's at the house where Ab'an is."

"At the merchants? What is Mother doing there?" Kael asked.

Safiya merely shrugged her shoulders. She seemed not to know either. But unlike her, Kael was tired of waiting for his parents to return and set off towards the edge of the village.

His sister watched him go but then stopped him one more time.

"Kael. Have you thought about it?"

As Kael turned around, a surge of irritation rose within him but was quickly suppressed when he saw his sister's serious expression. It was a sincere question, and it almost seemed as if she were genuinely concerned about him.

While it wasn't particularly important to Kael, he nonetheless gave his sister a serious and honest answer.

"Yes. Last week was a stark reminder that I know nothing, can do nothing, and will be nothing if I continue this way. I finally know where I should start."

Safiya raised an eyebrow in curiosity, her earlier indignation completely vanished. She silently asked for more information, but Kael only offered a weak smile.

"At least I'll try," he mumbled.

He didn't reveal any more to his sister. Then, he left to find his parents.

He strolled through the houses, walking in the shadows where they were available. Where there were none, he enjoyed the heat under his bare feet until he finally reached the edge of the village.

Kael was searching for the house. He wasn't entirely sure which one it was supposed to be, but he knew most of the village residents. By process of elimination, he eventually found the house where the merchant, and apparently his parents, were supposed to be.

However, when he observed the building, something seemed off. A merchant's house was usually larger than the others. This one, though, barely seemed large enough for one person, let alone additional goods. There was no cart or camel outside, nothing that would indicate the presence of a merchant.

Yet, it had to be here. Kael was certain of that. So, he ventured closer.

Kael approached the door and knocked. No answer. There were also no voices inside. He knocked again, and when he knocked a third time a bit more forcefully, the door creaked open slightly. It had not been properly locked. Inside, there was light.

"Hello? Mother? Father?" he called cautiously through the gap, but again there was no response. He pushed the door slowly open and saw a single room that served multiple purposes.

The center was dominated by a sturdy wooden table, atop which sat a flickering candle casting soft shadows around the room. Beside it, a solitary chair was tucked neatly under the table, suggesting a place for quiet contemplation or solitary meals.

To one side of the room, a modest bookshelf leaned against the wall, filled with an assortment of scrolls and worn books. The titles, some faded, hinted at topics ranging from Zephyrian history to complex treatises on trade and desert botany, perhaps the remnants of a scholarly pursuit or a keen interest in the natural world.

The walls themselves were bare, save for a few hanging utensils and a woven tapestry depicting the eternal flame. The room was devoid of personal touches that might speak to the inhabitants' characters or lives; it was functional, practical, and starkly utilitarian.

A small, shuttered window allowed a sliver of golden desert light to seep through, illuminating dust motes that danced in the still air. The atmosphere was heavy with a sense of waiting, as if the room held its breath.

Kael stepped cautiously inside, aware of the risks involved. Then, he heard something. Voices, faint and muffled, coming from below...

He looked around and spotted a trapdoor on the floor. As he approached, he thought he recognized his mother's voice but couldn't make out the words.

Driven by curiosity, he wondered what his parents were doing in this house, which was definitely not a merchant's home. Could it be a secret meeting? The timing seemed all too perfect.

"Great," he thought, "now even my parents are beginning to act suspicious."

Kael slowly moved toward the trapdoor and hesitantly reached for the cool metal handle, lifting it a bit. The slight squeak of the hinges sounded deafening in the silence. He feared being discovered, but the conversation continued undisturbed.

Below the trapdoor, a sandstone staircase led down to a basement. There was just enough light to see where you were going, but nothing else.

Now, Kael could hear the voices more clearly—it was indeed his mother and father speaking with an unknown third person. However, the words were still too indistinct.

Kael knew he needed to go down to understand more. He was about to step onto the staircase when he suddenly stopped.

His entire body turned terribly cold, as if all warmth had been drained from him.

He jerked back and leaped away, letting go of the trapdoor which slammed down with a loud bang. He sprang up, his heart pounding loudly, sweat running down his face like tears.

He had almost gone down. Below ground.

Then he heard footsteps coming up the staircase.

In a panic, he jumped up and fled out the door before anyone could see him. He rounded a corner, his whole body feeling ice cold. He gasped loudly, trying to calm his shaking body.

And though it was not yet evening, a light breeze brushed through his hair.