The sun was a faint memory now, sinking behind the dunes that surrounded Al'Khari. As darkness fell, the city felt more oppressive than ever, as though the shadows themselves were conspiring to swallow Azra whole. She left the library, the ancient book still clutched in her hands, her heart heavy with the realization of what she had found.
The cryptic warning from her father's journal echoed in her mind: Beware the ones who wait in the shadows. The veil is thin here, and the forgotten are waking. She hadn't wanted to believe it, but the figure she had encountered in the library had been real. More than that, it had felt like a living manifestation of her father's warnings. It was watching her, guiding her toward something far darker than she had anticipated.
Azra made her way back toward the temple, where the map had shown the hidden structure beneath. But with each step, the weight of the air around her seemed to grow heavier. The deeper she ventured into Al'Khari, the more it felt like she was moving through the layers of some unseen, ancient barrier—one that was steadily weakening.
She paused at the edge of an alleyway, glancing down the narrow path between two crumbling buildings. The shadows there seemed deeper, darker than they should have been. For a moment, she thought she saw movement, something shifting just out of sight, but when she blinked, it was gone.
The wind picked up, carrying with it the faintest of whispers—voices, unintelligible but insistent. They stirred the sand around her feet, creating a soft, hissing sound like the breath of a thousand unseen creatures. Azra's pulse quickened as she scanned the alley once more, but the darkness had swallowed whatever had been there.
She forced herself to keep walking, her fingers gripping the book tightly. The weight of the ancient tome seemed to pull her deeper into the city, as though it held more than just words within its pages. There was a strange energy about it, something alive.
The temple was just ahead now, its silhouette barely visible against the starless sky. The air grew colder the closer she came, the chill seeping into her bones. She could feel eyes on her—eyes that didn't blink, watching from the shadows.
As she approached the temple steps, she stopped. Something was wrong.
The silence had shifted. It wasn't just the absence of sound—it was the presence of something else, something breathing just beneath the surface of the night. The shadows seemed to pulse with a life of their own, writhing at the edges of her vision.
Azra's breath caught as she heard it—footsteps, faint but unmistakable, coming from behind her. She froze, her heart pounding in her chest, and slowly turned around.
Nothing.
But she knew better. She could feel the weight of whatever it was, lurking just beyond the reach of the dim light. The footsteps came again, this time closer. The sound was wrong—too slow, too deliberate, as though whatever was approaching wasn't walking on normal feet.
Azra's hand moved to the dagger at her waist, but she knew it would do little against whatever was out there. Her father's warnings flashed through her mind: The veil is thin here, and the forgotten are waking.
A sudden gust of wind swept through the alley, carrying with it the scent of decay—of something ancient and rotting. Azra's stomach twisted, and she instinctively stepped back, her eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.
Then, she saw it.
A figure, tall and gaunt, standing just at the edge of the alleyway. Its body was twisted, unnaturally thin, and its skin was the color of ash, stretched tightly over its bones. Its eyes were hollow, black pits, sunken deep into its skull, and its mouth hung open in a permanent, silent scream.
Azra's blood ran cold. This was no human.
The creature moved, its bony limbs jerking unnaturally as it took a step forward, its hollow eyes fixed on her. It moved like a puppet, its joints creaking and snapping as it approached, dragging its feet through the sand. The stench of rot grew stronger, overwhelming her senses.
Azra took a step back, her pulse racing, but the creature moved faster than she anticipated. In an instant, it was right in front of her, its cold, skeletal hand reaching for her throat. She barely had time to react, her body frozen in terror as its fingers brushed against her skin.
A guttural, rasping sound escaped the creature's mouth, a sound that sent chills down her spine. Azra tried to move, to scream, but the creature's grip tightened, choking the breath from her lungs. Its hollow eyes bore into hers, unblinking, as though it could see into her very soul.
With a surge of desperation, Azra drew the dagger from her belt and plunged it into the creature's side. The blade sank deep into its flesh, but there was no blood, no reaction—only the sickening crack of bones breaking beneath the surface.
The creature's grip loosened just enough for Azra to pull away, stumbling backward as the thing recoiled. It let out a low, inhuman growl, its eyes narrowing as it watched her with cold, calculated malice.
Azra's heart pounded in her chest as she backed away, her mind racing. She had wounded it, but it wasn't enough. The creature was still coming, and it wasn't alone.
From the shadows, more figures began to emerge—twisted, skeletal beings with hollow eyes and gaping mouths. They moved slowly, deliberately, as though they had all the time in the world. The air around them crackled with energy, a dark, malevolent force that seemed to thrum in time with their movements.
Azra's mind raced. She couldn't fight them, not all of them. She had to run.
Without another thought, she turned and bolted toward the temple, her feet slipping in the loose sand. Behind her, she could hear the creatures following, their rasping breaths growing louder as they closed in.
She reached the steps of the temple and stumbled inside, slamming the door behind her. For a moment, the world went silent, the only sound her ragged breathing echoing in the empty hall.
But the silence didn't last.
From outside the temple, she could hear them—the creatures, scratching at the door, their bony fingers scraping against the wood. They weren't going to stop. They knew she was inside.
Azra backed away from the door, her mind spinning. She had come to Al'Khari seeking answers, but now she was certain that the city held nothing but death. Her father had warned her about the creatures that stalked the night, the forgotten ones that waited in the shadows. But nothing had prepared her for the reality of facing them.
Her eyes fell to the ancient book in her hands, its pages still open to the map of the buried structure beneath the temple. The answer lies beneath, her father had written. It was her only chance.
With shaking hands, Azra flipped through the book, searching for anything that might help her. And then, she found it—a passage written in her father's handwriting, scrawled in the margins of the page:
"The veil is thinning. The creatures are drawn to it, but they cannot cross it completely. Not yet. There is a way to seal the veil, but it comes at a cost. Blood for blood. Life for life."
Azra's stomach churned. The creatures were coming for her, drawn to the thinning veil between the worlds. If she didn't act quickly, they would break through, and there would be no stopping them.
She had to make a choice. To seal the veil, to stop the creatures, she would need to sacrifice something—perhaps even someone. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, but the alternative was far worse.
The creatures' scratching grew louder, more insistent. They were breaking through.
Azra clenched her jaw, steeling herself for what was to come. She would find a way to stop them, to close the veil, no matter the cost.
But as she descended into the darkness beneath the temple, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched—by something far older, far darker, than the creatures outside.
Something that had been waiting for her.