THE SHADOWS BENEATH THE MOON

Chapter 4

The desert night stretched wide, its silence punctuated by the distant howls of unseen predators. Aya huddled close to the small fire Idris had built, her thoughts swirling as she stared into the flickering flames.

The creature's glowing eyes haunted her mind, and her trembling hands clutched the map as if it could shield her from whatever else lurked in the desert. Idris sat across from her, sharpening his dagger with slow, deliberate movements.

"What was that thing?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Idris didn't look up. "I told you before, there are stories about the desert. Some are just tales to scare children. Others…" He paused, his jaw tightening. "Others are warnings."

Aya swallowed, her throat dry despite the water she had sipped moments earlier. "Do you think it was… guarding the temple?"

"Guarding? Maybe," Idris said, his tone unreadable. "Or maybe it's just something that lives in places people were smart enough to leave alone." Aya glanced at the map, her fingers tracing the path etched into the parchment. "But the temple wasn't the end. It's just a step closer to the oasis."

"And how many more of those things do you think are waiting for us?" Idris asked sharply, his eyes locking onto hers.

Aya hesitated. She didn't have an answer, but the determination in her heart outweighed her fear. "Whatever it takes, I have to keep going." Idris sighed, leaning back against a rock. "You're either brave or reckless. Maybe both. Either way, the desert doesn't care about your determination."

"Then why are you still here?" Aya challenged, her voice rising. "You could have left me at the village. You don't have to do this."

For a moment, Idris said nothing. His gaze flickered to the stars above, and when he finally spoke, his voice was softer. "Because I've seen too many people lost to the sands. And I'm not about to add another name to that list."

Aya fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. She didn't know what losses Idris had endured, but she could sense the burden he carried.

The next morning, they set out before dawn. The chill of the night still clung to the air, and Aya wrapped her cloak tightly around her. Idris led the way, his eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of movement. The terrain grew harsher as they moved farther from the temple. The sand was littered with jagged rocks, and the wind picked up, carrying with it the faint sound of whispers. Aya shook her head, telling herself it was just the wind, but unease settled in her chest.

"Do you hear that?" she asked Idris.

He nodded grimly. "The desert speaks in many voices. Don't listen too closely, or you'll lose your way." Aya glanced at the map again, her fingers tracing the symbols. The path marked on it was leading them toward a cluster of hills in the distance, their peaks barely visible through the shifting sands.

As they approached, the whispers grew louder, and Aya couldn't help but feel as though they were being watched. She glanced over her shoulder, but the desert behind them was empty.

"Idris…"

"I know," he said, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. "We're not alone."

Aya's heart raced as she scanned the horizon. Shadows moved at the edge of her vision, but whenever she turned to look, they vanished.

"Keep walking," Idris said, his voice low. "Don't stop. Don't look back."

Aya obeyed, her steps quickening as the whispers turned into faint, unintelligible murmurs. The hills loomed closer, their jagged edges casting long shadows across the sand. When they finally reached the base of the hills, Idris motioned for them to stop. He crouched low, his sharp eyes scanning the terrain.

"There," he said, pointing to a narrow crevice between two rocks. "We can take shelter there."

Aya followed him into the crevice, her heart pounding as the shadows seemed to close in around them. The whispers faded as they entered the shelter, but the sense of unease lingered.

"What were those things out there?" Aya asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Wraiths," Idris said, his tone grim. "Spirits of those who died searching for something they could never find. They wander the sands, drawn to the living like moths to a flame."

Aya shuddered. "Why didn't they attack us?"

"Because they don't need to. They'll wait until you're too weak to fight back. That's how the desert claims you—slowly, piece by piece." Aya sat down, her back against the cool stone. She clutched the map tightly, her resolve hardening. "We can't let them stop us. The oasis is real, and it's waiting for us." Idris gave her a long, searching look. "You're more stubborn than I thought," he said with a faint smirk. "But stubbornness won't save you out here."

"Then what will?" Aya challenged.

Idris's expression grew serious. "Trust. You trust the desert to guide you, and you trust the people walking beside you. Without that, you're as good as dead." Aya met his gaze, her determination unwavering. "Then I'll trust you. Just promise me you won't give up." For a moment, Idris said nothing. Then he nodded, his expression softening. "I won't. But don't make me regret it."

As the day wore on, they resumed their journey, climbing the rocky hills with careful, deliberate steps. The path was treacherous, but Aya's determination pushed her forward.

When they reached the summit of the tallest hill, Aya gasped. Below them, nestled in a valley surrounded by jagged cliffs, was a patch of green unlike anything she had ever seen.

"The oasis," she whispered, her voice filled with awe.

Idris frowned, his hand tightening on the hilt of his dagger. "It's too quiet." Aya didn't care. She started down the slope, her heart pounding with excitement. But as they drew closer, the air grew heavier, and a sense of unease settled over her. The oasis was beautiful—tall palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves shimmering like emeralds. A crystal-clear pool reflected the sky, its surface undisturbed. But something about the stillness felt wrong.

"Stay close," Idris warned, his voice tense.

Aya nodded, her steps slowing as they approached the edge of the oasis. She knelt by the pool, her reflection staring back at her.

"It's real," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. But as she reached out to touch the water, Idris grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

"Wait," he said, his tone urgent.

Aya looked up at him, confused. "What is it?" He pointed to the far side of the pool, where the sand seemed to ripple and shift. Slowly, something began to rise—a figure cloaked in shadows, its form indistinct but undeniably menacing.

The air grew colder, and Aya's breath caught in her throat. The figure moved toward them, its presence heavy and oppressive.

"Get ready to run," Idris said, his voice low.

Aya didn't argue. She clutched the map tightly, her heart racing as the figure drew closer. The oasis was real but so were the dangers that guarded it.