The crimson storm overhead roared like a living beast, its violent winds whipping across the eastern wastes as James and his army pressed onward. Each step felt heavier, as if the land itself resisted their advance. The air grew thick with an unnatural heat, and the horizon seemed to shimmer with mirages that danced mockingly before them.
Sasha rode beside James, her sword resting on her lap, her keen eyes scanning the shifting terrain. "The land feels... wrong," she said, her voice low. "It's as if it's alive, trying to trap us."
James nodded, his gaze fixed on the swirling sands ahead. "This is no ordinary wasteland. The Pharaoh's curse is warping everything. Stay sharp."
The ground beneath them began to shift, subtle at first, like a tremor running through the earth. Then, without warning, massive sand dunes rose around the army, boxing them in. The sands swirled with an unnatural energy, glowing faintly with the same crimson hue as the storm above.
