Chapter 42: A Shard in the Sands
The tundra faded behind them as Kord's team pressed southward, leaving the frozen wasteland of the Frostspire Peaks for the arid expanse of the Greythorn Desert. The journey was grueling, a test of endurance for both body and mind. The air grew hotter, the biting winds replaced by an oppressive, dry heat that seemed to sap their strength with every step.
Kord led the group in silence, her focus unwavering despite the toll the past weeks had taken on her. Their destination lay somewhere within the desert—a location revealed in fragmented visions Lyneth claimed came from the shard she carried.
"The shard resonates with the others," Lyneth had explained during a brief rest the night before. "It's like a faint whisper calling out across the distance. I can't explain it, but… I think I know where the next one is."
"Let's hope you're right," Kord had replied grimly.
Now, as they marched across the shifting sands, Kord's thoughts drifted to the remnant's warning: The shards must be reunited. Only their combined power can restore what has been lost. But the more she considered it, the less certain she felt. Why had the shards been scattered in the first place? What force was powerful enough to break them apart, yet fragile enough to depend on their unity?
Mirage of Truth
By midday, the heat had become unbearable, and the group paused to rest beneath a craggy outcrop of rock. Jorath dropped heavily to the ground, pulling a water skin from his pack and taking a long drink.
"Remind me," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow, "why we thought chasing a shard through a desert was a good idea."
Kord ignored his complaint, her eyes scanning the horizon. Though she said nothing, she had noticed something strange as they traveled—an unnatural stillness that mirrored the silence near the Frostspire nexus. The desert, usually alive with the buzz of insects and distant cries of carrion birds, seemed utterly devoid of life.
"It's too quiet," she finally said, voicing her concern.
Jorath frowned, following her gaze. "You think something's watching us?"
"Not watching," Kord replied. "Waiting."
Before Jorath could respond, Lyneth suddenly stood, her face pale. "The shard," she said, clutching at the satchel on her hip. "It's reacting to something."
The group turned to her as the faint hum of the shard became audible, a low vibration that resonated in their chests. The sound grew louder, and the air around them shimmered like a mirage.
"Kord," Lyneth whispered, "something's coming."
The Guardians of Dust
The shimmering air coalesced into shapes—twisting, swirling figures of sand and light that rose from the dunes. Their forms were humanoid but indistinct, their edges constantly shifting as though they were struggling to remain whole.
The largest of the figures stepped forward, its glowing eyes fixed on the group. When it spoke, its voice was like the shifting of countless grains of sand.
"Turn back, mortals. This place is not for you."
Kord drew her blade, her expression hard. "We're not turning back. We're here for the shard."
The figure's eyes flared brighter. "The shard belongs to the sands. It is the lifeblood of this land, and you will not take it."
Before Kord could respond, the figure raised an arm, and the desert erupted into chaos. The sand beneath their feet surged upward, forming tendrils that lashed out at the group.
"Defensive positions!" Kord shouted, dodging a strike and slashing at the nearest tendril.
Jorath was already moving, his blade cutting through the shifting forms with practiced ease. "These things just keep coming!" he shouted.
"They're not creatures," Lyneth called out, hurling a vial of alchemical fire at one of the figures. The explosion sent it scattering into the wind, but another immediately formed in its place. "They're the desert itself!"
"Then how do we stop them?" Jorath demanded.
Kord's mind raced as she fought off another tendril. The shard's hum was growing louder, almost deafening now, and she realized it wasn't just reacting to the figures—it was calling to something beneath the sand.
"We need to dig," she said suddenly.
Jorath blinked at her. "What?"
"The shard—it's beneath us. That's what these things are protecting."
"Digging in the middle of a fight?" Jorath growled. "Great plan."
But Kord was already moving, plunging her blade into the ground and tearing away chunks of sand. Lyneth and Arlen joined her, their movements frantic as the figures closed in around them.
Unearthing the Truth
After what felt like an eternity, Kord's blade struck something solid. She scraped away the remaining sand, revealing a gleaming fragment of crystal half-buried in the earth.
"Got it!" she shouted, grabbing the shard.
The moment her fingers closed around it, the sand figures froze, their forms flickering like dying flames. The largest one turned its glowing eyes on her, and for a moment, she thought it might attack.
Instead, it spoke.
"You have taken what is not yours," it said, its voice filled with sorrow. "The balance will not hold."
Before Kord could respond, the figures dissolved into the wind, leaving the team alone in the silent desert.
A Fragmented Vision
As the group regrouped, Lyneth approached Kord, her eyes wide. "The shard—it's reacting to the one I carry."
Kord handed the shard to her, and the moment the two fragments were brought together, a surge of energy rippled through the air. Lyneth gasped, her eyes glowing faintly as she fell to her knees.
"Lyneth!" Jorath moved to help her, but Kord stopped him.
"She's having a vision," Kord said.
Lyneth's voice, distant and strained, began to speak. "The shards… were sundered to bind the storm. A force… beyond comprehension. It was contained, but at great cost. The nexuses are failing… the bindings fraying… and the storm awakens."
Her eyes cleared, and she looked up at Kord, her expression filled with fear. "It's not just the nexuses that are connected," she said. "The shards… they're pieces of something bigger. Something alive."
The Gathering Storm
The team set up camp that night in the shadow of a rocky outcrop, their exhaustion outweighing their unease. The shards, now united, pulsed with a faint light that seemed to cast long, ominous shadows across the sand.
Jorath sat by the fire, staring into the flames. "So let me get this straight," he said. "We're carrying pieces of some ancient, sentient thing that was powerful enough to require a global network of magic to keep it in check?"
"That's about right," Lyneth replied wearily.
"And we're planning to bring all these pieces back together?"
"We don't have a choice," Kord said. "The nexuses are failing. If we don't act, whatever was contained is going to break free anyway."
Jorath sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fantastic."
As the others settled into uneasy rest, Kord stood watch, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The shards had revealed a terrible truth, but she couldn't let herself dwell on it. There was too much at stake.
The desert was quiet, but the faint hum of the shards was a constant reminder that their journey was far from over.