The gate pulsed with an otherworldly energy, the runes along its surface glowing brighter with each step Zhan Arkheis took. Behind him, the soldiers hesitated, their gazes darting between the massive portal and the shifting sands of the Cradle. The amplifiers, still encircling the gate, pulsed faintly, their hum rising in rhythm with the tremors in the air.
"Are we supposed to follow him?" one soldier whispered, his voice trembling.
"If we don't, he'll cut us down himself," another muttered.
"Enough," Arkos barked, his tone sharper than usual. He stood just behind Zhan, his sword sheathed but his hand resting uneasily on the hilt. "If you've come this far, then you'll see it through. Or turn back and let the desert claim you."
The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances but eventually began to move, their steps slow and reluctant.
Zhan reached the gate and paused, his fingers brushing against its surface. The runes were warm, almost alive, and they pulsed with a rhythm that matched the beat of his heart. He felt the amplifiers resonate in response, their Essence coursing through him like a river of fire.
The whispers in his mind grew clearer.
"Enter. The sands bow. The Architect stirs."
Zhan smiled faintly, a cold, sharp expression that carried no joy. Without hesitation, he stepped through the gate.
The world beyond the gate was nothing like the Great Abyss.
The air was thick and heavy, charged with an energy that crackled faintly against their skin. The ground beneath their feet was black and glassy, as though it had been burned and melted into smooth obsidian. Above them, the sky was a swirling void, a maelstrom of dark clouds shot through with streaks of blue Essence lightning.
The soldiers froze as they stepped through, their breaths catching at the sight. The space stretched endlessly, a vast, alien expanse dotted with strange, jagged structures that jutted from the ground like broken teeth.
"What... what is this place?" one of them whispered, his voice barely audible.
"The domain of the Architect," Zhan said, his tone calm and measured.
Arkos stepped up beside him, his expression tight. "It feels... wrong. Like the air itself is alive."
"It is alive," Zhan replied, his gaze sweeping over the alien landscape. "This is where the sands were born. Where the first amplifiers were forged. It is the heart of the desert's power."
"And what makes you think you can control it?" Arkos asked, his voice edged with tension.
Zhan turned to him, his gray eyes gleaming. "Because no one else dares to."
They moved cautiously through the strange landscape, the soldiers sticking close together as they navigated the jagged terrain. The amplifiers, carried at the center of their formation, pulsed faintly, their glow casting eerie shadows that danced across the blackened ground.
The whispers in Zhan's mind grew louder with each step.
"Closer. The shards align. The cycle bends."
He could feel the weight of the place pressing against him, the Essence in the air flowing through him like a tide. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and he welcomed it.
But the others were not as resilient.
One of the soldiers stumbled, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I... I can't breathe," he choked, dropping to his knees.
Another rushed to help him, only to collapse as well, clutching his chest. "What's happening to them?"
"The Essence is too dense," Arkos said grimly. "It's suffocating them."
"Then they are weak," Zhan said without looking back. "Leave them."
Arkos's jaw tightened. "They're your men, Zhan. You can't just—"
"They are tools," Zhan said, his tone icy. "And broken tools are discarded."
The surviving soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, their fear mounting. Arkos knelt beside the fallen men, his hand tightening into a fist. He looked up at Zhan, his expression a mixture of anger and disbelief.
"You would let them die for this?" Arkos demanded.
"They chose to follow," Zhan said, turning to face him. "And they knew the cost."
"This isn't leadership," Arkos said, his voice rising. "It's madness."
Zhan's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone. "Do not mistake compassion for strength, Arkos. The sands remember only those who survive."
"And what will they remember of you?" Arkos shot back.
The tension between them was electric, the air around them humming with unspoken words. Finally, Zhan turned away, his focus returning to the path ahead.
The group pressed on, their numbers dwindling as more soldiers succumbed to the Essence-laden air. Zhan remained unaffected, his resolve unshaken as he led them deeper into the Architect's domain.
At the center of the expanse, they came upon a massive structure—a towering spire of black stone that seemed to pierce the void above. Its surface was etched with the same glowing runes that adorned the gate, and its base was surrounded by a swirling vortex of Essence.
"The heart of the sands," Zhan murmured.
The amplifiers pulsed violently, their glow flaring as they resonated with the spire's energy. The whispers in Zhan's mind became a roar, their words blending into a single, deafening command.
"Enter. Claim. Bend the cycle."
Zhan stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the spire. Arkos grabbed his arm, his grip firm.
"Zhan, stop," Arkos said. "This is insanity. You don't know what's waiting for you in there."
"I know enough," Zhan replied, shaking off his grip. "And I will not stop now."
Arkos's hand hovered over the hilt of his sword, his hesitation clear. "If you go in there, there's no coming back. This... this isn't strength, Zhan. It's arrogance."
Zhan turned to him, his gray eyes cold and unyielding. "Then let it be arrogance. But I will not kneel. Not to you. Not to the Architect. Not to anyone."
Without waiting for a response, Zhan stepped into the swirling vortex, the Essence enveloping him in a blinding flash of light.
The soldiers and Arkos stood frozen, staring at the spire as the light receded. For a moment, there was silence, the oppressive weight of the place settling over them like a shroud.
And then the ground began to tremble.
The spire pulsed with energy, its runes flaring brighter than ever. The air around them grew colder, heavier, as a low, resonant hum filled the void.
Arkos took a step back, his hand tightening on his sword. "What have you done, Zhan?" he muttered.
But there was no answer.
Zhan Arkheis had entered the heart of the sands, and whatever awaited him there would change the desert forever