The sun hung low over the horizon as we approached Aarakis, casting long, golden shadows across the endless stretch of the desert. I could feel the heat still radiating from the sand beneath my boots, though it had cooled slightly since midday. The air here was thick, heavy with the scent of spices and distant rain, the only hint of the oasis city's lifeblood.
Aarakis was unlike any city I had ever seen. From a distance, it seemed like a mirage—a blur of towering stone walls and lush greenery that defied the harshness of the surrounding Nithar desert. As we drew closer, the heat of the desert began to give way to the humidity that clung to the air like a wet cloak. The city seemed to rise out of the very earth, a mix of ancient architecture and flourishing life, a testament to the magic that sustained it.
The outer walls of Aarakis were made of sun-bleached stone, worn down by centuries of sandstorms and time. They gleamed faintly, almost as if they were absorbing the sunlight itself. As we passed through the outer gates, I couldn't help but marvel at the grandeur of it all. The city sprawled before us, a labyrinth of narrow alleyways, bustling markets, and towering structures. The sound of chattering voices, the rhythmic clink of metal, and the hum of magic filled the air.
It wasn't just the architecture that caught my attention, though—it was the life of the place. Despite the arid desert surrounding it, Aarakis thrived. Palm trees lined the streets, their fronds swaying gently in the breeze, and fountains of crystal-clear water sparkled in the sun. The streets were crowded with traders from distant lands, their stalls overflowing with exotic goods: silks from distant shores, strange herbs with pungent scents, and strange, shimmering stones that glowed softly in the dim light of the city's alleys.
We made our way through the city, the heavy weight of our recent loss still pressing on my chest. It felt wrong, being here, surrounded by so much life while we carried the burden of death with us. The city, with its opulence and its chaos, seemed both a welcome respite and a reminder of everything we had left behind.
Our first stop was a small inn tucked away at the edge of the city, away from the madness of the main thoroughfare. The wooden sign above the door creaked in the wind, its faded letters barely legible. It was humble, but at that moment, it was all we needed.
Inside, the air was cool, and the scent of roasted meat and herbs wafted through the air. The innkeeper, a stout man with a thick mustache, greeted us with a wary nod. We were far from the first adventurers to pass through Aarakis, but there was something about our group—something in our eyes—that made him hesitate.
"Rooms are free, but only if you're staying the night," the innkeeper said, his voice rough from years of smoke and travel.
"Just for the night," I replied, my voice quieter than I intended. "We need to rest."
"We'll take whatever you have," Aldyn added, his tone firm but weary.
The innkeeper nodded, leading us to a corner table. We sat down, each of us lost in our own thoughts. The heavy silence between us spoke volumes. We had come to Aarakis for answers, but the weight of the unknown pressed on us more than ever. What had we stumbled into? What had turned the ruins of Ul'Thorak, a place once rumored to be a treasure trove, into a death trap?
As we settled into the dimly lit tavern, I took a moment to absorb the atmosphere. The rustic charm of Aarakis seeped into every corner of the room. The wooden beams above creaked with age, and the flickering light from the hearth cast dancing shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spices, and something earthy—possibly the desert sand that clung to everything here.
We hadn't spoken much since our arrival, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Zeri was at the bar, exchanging a few words with the bartender, while Tarek was already seated, leafing through a worn map of Aetheris, his brow furrowed in thought. And then there was me. I didn't feel like talking much either, but I needed to understand something.
I took a deep breath and approached the bartender, who seemed to be wiping down the counter with a rag, his eyes flickering nervously as he noticed me. The man had a rough edge to him, a product of years of dealing with travelers from all over. He didn't strike me as the sort who would offer information without being asked, but something in the way he kept glancing at us made me wonder.
"What's the deal with Ul'Thorak?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, though it came out sharper than I intended. "We heard rumors. It's supposed to be a simple job, but it… wasn't. A friend of ours didn't make it back."
The bartender's hands stilled for a moment, and for a brief second, I thought he might turn us away. But then he spoke, his voice low, as if he didn't want others to overhear.
"Ul'Thorak, eh?" He leaned in a little, eyes darting around before meeting mine. "Not the place you want to go looking for treasure, that's for sure. Not unless you're ready to face something worse than just the desert out there."
I took a slow breath, holding back my impatience. "What's really out there? Why has it changed so much?"
He hesitated again, clearly weighing his words. Finally, he shrugged, as if resigned to the fact that, sooner or later, the truth would come out.
"The ruin's been different since the last wave of explorers. Some say there's more to it than just the old legends. Some say there's power... real power hidden there, and not the kind you can control." He looked over his shoulder, then leaned in closer. "The desert takes people, you know. The wind, the heat, the madness that sets in after days of nothing. But there's something else about Ul'Thorak, something strange, almost alive. And no one really talks about it… not in any detail."
I frowned, my mind racing. "What are you trying to say?"
The bartender took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for something he didn't want to say. "There are people who don't come back from Ul'Thorak, but not for the reasons you think. It's not just the danger. It's... the calling."
"The calling?" I repeated, puzzled.
He nodded. "You'll know it if you go. If you're unlucky enough. That's all I'll say."
I felt a shiver crawl up my spine as the words sank in. "And what happens to those who hear it?" I pressed.
He shook his head, a grim look crossing his face. "Some say they just... vanish. Others say they come back, but they're never the same. The ruin... it changes things. It makes you forget what you were looking for in the first place. Makes you... forget who you were."
I stood there, silent for a moment, processing what he'd said. Zeri, who had been watching our conversation from the bar, approached with a questioning look on her face.
"What's going on?" Zeri asked, her tone a mixture of curiosity and concern.
I exchanged a glance with Tarek, who had quietly joined us by then. His expression was unreadable, but I could tell he was listening intently.
"Ul'Thorak's more than just a ruin," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. "It's a place that changes people. And whatever we find there… it won't be just about treasure."
Zeri's eyes flickered with unease. "What does that mean for us?"
I didn't have an answer yet. All I knew was that we couldn't go back now. Ul'Thorak had already taken one of us. Whatever it had to offer—or whatever it wanted—we were going to face it head-on.
After we had finished eating, the tavern settled into a quiet murmur, the hum of conversation fading into the backdrop of clinking glasses and soft laughter. The food had been hearty, but it did little to settle the weight in my chest. I could feel it pressing against me—the questions, the uncertainty about Ul'Thorak, and the gaping absence of Norah, whose voice had always been so present among us.
Zeri was the first to stand, her movements brisk but controlled, like someone trying to shake off the heaviness in the air. She didn't speak, but the set of her jaw told me she was feeling it too—the way the words we hadn't said were hanging in the room, between us and around us, suffocating everything.
Tarek followed soon after, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape, his eyes still fixed on the table in front of him. I knew he wasn't looking at the crumbs of bread or the untouched cup of wine; he was lost in thought, replaying the events, the chaos, the way Norah had fallen. I could feel the tension in his shoulders as if he were bracing himself for something.
We didn't exchange words as we made our way upstairs. The old wooden staircase creaked beneath our feet, each step groaning with the weight of time. The faint smell of dust mixed with the aroma of roasted spices still lingered in the air, a reminder of the life that carried on below us, unaware of the storm we had just walked through.
The room we had been given was small but comfortable, with a large bed tucked into the far corner, heavy curtains drawn over the window. A few wooden chairs sat around a low table, the kind of space that spoke of quiet rest rather than lavish comfort. It was enough for the night.
Zeri went straight to the window, pulling back the curtains slightly to peer out at the dimming city. The desert air was thick even from here, the shadows of the palm trees stretching long into the distance as the sun sank lower.
I dropped my pack near the door, feeling the weight of the day settle onto me in ways that words couldn't fully express. There was nothing I wanted more than to lie down and forget everything for just a few hours, but I knew that wouldn't happen—not tonight.
Tarek finally spoke, his voice low but steady. "We're not just dealing with a ruin anymore, are we?"
I shook my head, leaning against the wooden dresser near the bed. "No. It's something more... something that's changed. It's not just the heat or the madness. There's something else there—something that keeps pulling people back."
Zeri didn't turn around when she spoke, but I could hear the tension in her voice. "And it killed Norah."
The words hit harder than I expected, sharp and raw, as if they were a brand burning into the room. The silence that followed was thick, heavy with grief that none of us had fully allowed ourselves to feel yet.
"We don't know that," I said quietly, though I knew, deep down, that we did. "But what we do know is that whatever it is, it's dangerous. And it doesn't just kill people—it makes them forget why they even went in the first place."
I caught the flicker of something in Zeri's eyes then—was it fear? Regret? She was staring out the window, her breath coming in shallow bursts, as if she were grappling with something she wasn't ready to face.
Tarek's voice cut through the silence again. "We have to keep moving. We can't let it consume us."
I nodded, though part of me was afraid that it already had. How could we not be affected, when the very thing that had taken Norah was now staring us down, waiting?
Zeri turned away from the window and sat down on the edge of the bed, her posture stiff. "What's the plan, then? We go back out there and face... whatever's waiting?"
"I think we need more information," I said, my voice quieter now. "I don't trust that tavern keeper's warnings about it being some... calling. There's something he's not saying, something he's scared of. But we need to know what it is."
There was a long pause before Tarek spoke again, his tone serious but calm. "We need to be prepared. We go in with our eyes wide open. Whatever we find in Ul'Thorak, it's not just going to hand itself over to us."
I could see Zeri's eyes narrow in thought, her fingers tapping restlessly on her knee. "And if it's more than we can handle?"
I didn't have an answer for that. There was too much uncertainty now, too much we didn't know. But I knew one thing: we weren't leaving until we had some answers. No matter the cost.
With that, the conversation faded into quiet again, the only sound now the distant rustling of the desert wind against the building. We each had our own thoughts, our own fears to grapple with. The room felt smaller as the night drew on, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching, waiting. Whatever it was, I wasn't sure we were ready.