The caravan stopped at sunset, the golden sands stretching endlessly around them. As the merchants set up camp, the group sat apart, discussing their plan.
"The shard is hidden in a vault beneath the city," Liora explained, spreading the map out on the sand. "The entrance should be here, in the central plaza."
"And what's guarding it?" Darian asked.
Liora hesitated. "I don't know. The texts weren't clear."
Elias frowned. "That's comforting."
Later that night, as the others slept, Liora sat by the fire, staring at the shard. Its glow seemed to pulse faintly in the darkness, as if alive.
"You're thinking too much," Darian said, sitting down beside her.
"I can't help it," Liora replied. "This isn't just about finding a relic. It's about finishing what my father started. Proving that his work meant something."
Darian was silent for a moment. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone. You're not him, Liora. You're you."
His words caught her off guard, but before she could reply, a scream tore through the night.
The group sprang to their feet as chaos erupted in the camp. Shadowy figures attacked, their movements swift and calculated.
"Raven's men!" Darian shouted, drawing his sword.
Elias fumbled with a small device, tossing it into the fray. It exploded in a flash of light, disorienting the attackers long enough for the group to grab their belongings and flee.
As they ran into the desert, Liora's heart pounded. Raven was always one step behind—and sometimes, one step ahead.
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