The desert wind bit into Amara's skin as she emerged from the temple, Solon following close behind. His golden aura had dimmed, but his presence was no less commanding. Idris, waiting near the entrance, staggered back in shock, his eyes wide as he beheld the towering figure.
"What… what is this?" Idris stammered, clutching his scarf like a lifeline.
"Solon," Amara said, her voice unsteady. "The Sun God. He's real."
Idris's face paled. "You've doomed us all, girl."
Solon stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Fear not, mortal. I mean no harm, but the world is in peril. The shadows stir, and I cannot fight them alone."
"Shadows?" Idris shook his head. "This is madness. I should've never brought you here." He turned to Amara, his tone desperate. "Bury this, Amara. Forget the gods. They've brought nothing but ruin."
Amara squared her shoulders. "I can't ignore this, Idris. Not now. If what Solon says is true, we're all in danger."
The older man gave her a long, searching look, then spat into the sand. "You're a fool, girl. But I won't stay to watch you tempt fate." Without another word, Idris climbed onto his camel and rode off into the dunes, leaving Amara and Solon alone.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Amara led Solon back to her camp. The golden light of the god's presence flickered faintly, like a dying ember. She could see the weariness in his steps, the strain of his long imprisonment etched into every movement.
"You're weak," Amara observed as they reached the cluster of tents. "Why?"
Solon glanced at her, his eyes dimming. "The gods draw their strength from belief. Without mortals to remember me, my power has withered. I am but a shadow of what I once was."
Amara frowned, pulling out her notebook. "But people still speak of the Sun God, even if only in myths. Doesn't that count for something?"
"Stories fade. Names lose their meaning." Solon's gaze turned distant. "Once, my light guided civilizations. Now, it barely flickers in their hearts."
Amara bit her lip, unsure of what to say. She set her lantern down, its glow illuminating the cramped tent. "Then we'll have to find a way to remind them."
Solon raised an eyebrow. "You speak as if it's a simple task."
"It's not," she admitted, "but I didn't come this far to give up now. If you want to save the world, we're going to need help. Other gods, maybe."
At the mention of other gods, Solon's expression darkened. "Most have fallen into obscurity like I have, or worse, they've succumbed to bitterness. Trust will be hard to find."
Amara nodded slowly. "Then we start with those you know best. Where do we go first?"
Solon sat cross-legged, closing his eyes in thought. For a moment, Amara saw the faintest glimmer of the radiant god described in ancient texts—a figure of wisdom and resolve. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of centuries.
"Nerys, the Sea Goddess. She ruled the tides and protected the waters. If she still exists, she may hold the key to finding balance before the Eclipse. But…" Solon hesitated.
"But what?" Amara prompted.
"She will not trust me easily," Solon admitted. "Long ago, I betrayed her in my quest for dominance over the skies."
Amara groaned. "Great. So, we're starting with someone who hates you. This is going to go well."
Solon gave her a pointed look. "Mortals have always been quick to judge. You'll find the gods are no different."
Amara sighed, rubbing her temples. "Fine. Where do we find her?"
"The Whispering Coast," Solon said. "A place where the sea meets the sky. If she lingers anywhere, it will be there."
Amara unrolled a map, her finger tracing the routes through deserts and mountains to reach the coast. It was weeks away, and the journey would not be easy. Supplies would be scarce, and dangers—both mortal and divine—were sure to follow.
As the two prepared to set out the next morning, the first sign of trouble appeared. Amara woke to find her campsite eerily quiet. The usual hum of the desert—chirping insects and rustling winds—had been replaced by an oppressive silence.
Solon stood at the edge of the camp, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "It has begun," he murmured.
Amara joined him, squinting into the distance. At first, she saw nothing, but then the shadows began to move. A swirling mass of darkness crept across the dunes, unnaturally fast and utterly silent.
"What is that?" she whispered.
"The harbinger of Nyxaris," Solon said grimly. "A shadow wraith. It seeks the light."
Amara's blood ran cold. "Can you stop it?"
"Not in my current state," Solon admitted. "But we can outpace it—if we leave now."
Amara grabbed her satchel, packing hurriedly as the shadow closed in. The wraith moved like a living thing, its shape constantly shifting. When it reached the edge of the camp, she felt the temperature drop, and her lantern flickered.
"Hurry!" Solon urged, his voice uncharacteristically sharp.
They mounted their camels and rode into the rising sun, the wraith giving chase. Amara's heart pounded as the creature grew closer, its tendrils of darkness lashing out like whips. Solon, weakened as he was, could do little more than shield them with a faint barrier of light.
As they crested a dune, the wraith lunged. Amara braced for impact—but suddenly, a burst of water erupted from the sand, striking the shadow and driving it back. The wraith shrieked before dissolving into nothingness.
Amara turned to see a figure standing atop a nearby dune. Cloaked in shimmering blue, her presence radiated power. Her eyes, like the depths of the ocean, met Amara's.
"Nerys," Solon said, his tone both relieved and wary.
The goddess of the sea had arrived—but whether as a friend or foe, Amara could not yet tell.