The journey from the ruins to the first city in Egypt felt like an eternity. The air shifted, hot and dry, clinging to their skin, the desert stretching out like an endless sea of sand. The days blended into one another, each one marked by a quiet tension that had settled over the group. Ziya couldn't escape the feeling that they were being drawn toward something—something bigger than the curse they were trying to outrun.
It was on the third day after the encounter in the ruins that they saw it.
In the distance, a silhouette began to emerge from the heat waves shimmering on the horizon. It was a city—a city of ancient stone, its walls a crumbling testament to a time long passed. The structures were half-buried by sand and time, but there was no mistaking what it was: a place that had once been a thriving civilization, now reduced to a ghost of its former self.
"Is that it?" Bashir asked, his voice a mix of awe and apprehension.
Khalid nodded, his face unreadable. "It's the city of Ashfara. We'll rest there, gather supplies, and then move on."
Ziya's gaze lingered on the city, something uneasy stirring within her. The ruins had spoken to her in ways she couldn't explain, and the thought of entering another place so full of history, so full of memories, made her heart race. It wasn't the place that unsettled her; it was the knowledge that they were nearing the heart of something—something dangerous. The curse, the creature, the magic… it all seemed to be leading them here.
As they entered the city, the silence felt oppressive, broken only by the sound of their horses' hooves on the dusty streets. The city seemed abandoned, its structures looming like broken giants. The once-grand buildings were now half-collapsed, their walls etched with strange symbols Ziya didn't recognize.
Ziya could feel the weight of the city pressing down on her. The air was thick, as though it had absorbed centuries of sorrow and secrets, and the moment they crossed the threshold into the heart of the city, she felt a shiver run down her spine.
Khalid dismounted with his usual calm, but there was something different in his demeanor today. He was more focused, his eyes sharp, scanning every corner, every shadow. Ziya couldn't help but notice the way his hand never strayed far from his sword, the tension in his posture that suggested he, too, felt the presence of something waiting. Something dangerous.
The squad moved quickly to secure a place to camp, and Ziya found herself near Khalid again, as she had been since the ruins. She had hoped the strange shift between them would fade with time, but it hadn't. If anything, it had only deepened, like the quiet hum of an unspoken understanding. But every time she caught his gaze, the world seemed to blur around the edges, the lines between what was real and what she wanted to be real growing faint.
"Ziya," Khalid's voice broke through her thoughts, and she looked up to find him standing in front of her. His expression was serious, but his eyes were softer than usual, as if he were struggling with something he hadn't yet said.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his tone low but laced with concern.
Ziya nodded, forcing a small smile. "I'm fine. Just… thinking."
Khalid's gaze lingered on her, his brow furrowing. "About the city? Or something else?"
She hesitated. The truth was, it was both. The city, with its eerie silence and ancient power, was only part of what weighed on her. The other part—more urgent, more insistent—was the pull she felt toward him. She had told herself to ignore it, to push it down, but the truth was harder to deny with each passing day.
"I don't know," she said, her voice softer than she intended. "There's something about this place. It feels… wrong."
Khalid nodded in understanding. "I know what you mean. The city holds too many memories. And not all of them are good."
Ziya glanced at him, surprised by the hint of vulnerability in his voice. It wasn't like Khalid to admit to uncertainty, to give any hint that he, too, might be affected by the world around them. But there it was—an openness, a crack in the armor he always wore.
"You're not the only one carrying something," he said quietly, his words almost a confession. "This city… it reminds me of things I've tried to forget."
Ziya's heart skipped a beat, and she met his gaze, her breath caught in her throat. There was a weight in his words, a depth to the man standing before her that she hadn't fully understood until now. It was a look that spoke of regret, of loss, of a past he couldn't outrun. And for the first time, she found herself wondering if they weren't so different after all.
Before she could respond, a shout rang out from across the camp. Bashir had spotted something—or someone—approaching.
Khalid's expression immediately hardened. "Stay close," he ordered, his voice sharp.
Ziya nodded, but her mind was still reeling from the brief moment of connection they had shared. It wasn't the first time they had spoken like this, but it was the first time she'd felt the weight of what lay beneath his words. She wanted to ask him more—wanted to press him for answers, for the truth—but the moment was lost, drowned in the sudden urgency of the situation.
The squad quickly gathered their weapons and formed a defensive perimeter. As Ziya fell into place beside Khalid, her heart pounded in her chest—not from fear of what was coming, but from the sudden realization that whatever they were facing, they were facing it together.
And that thought, strangely, gave her strength.
The figure approaching them was cloaked, moving swiftly through the sand. Ziya's fingers curled around the hilt of her dagger, her senses on high alert. She exchanged a glance with Khalid, whose jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed.
"Who goes there?" Khalid called, his voice carrying over the wind.
The figure didn't answer immediately, but when they finally stepped into the light, Ziya's breath caught. It was a woman, her face obscured by a veil, her presence almost ethereal in the moonlight.
"I come with news," she said, her voice soft but urgent. "Of the curse that haunts this land."
Ziya's heart skipped. Her mind raced. This was no ordinary traveler. She was someone who knew something—something important.
The woman stepped closer, her eyes meeting Ziya's with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine.
"The darkness that follows you…" she whispered. "It has a name."