The burden of power

"Do you feel it?" Elias asked, breaking the silence.

Alina glanced at him, her brow furrowed. "Feel what?"

"The harp," Elias said, his voice low. "Even now, it is still… calling to me."

Alina's hand tightened on the hilt of her dagger. "We should have destroyed it when we had the chance. I know we should."

"I don't think we could," Elias replied. "Not without understanding it first. It's more than just an object. It's… alive."

Alina shivered despite the heat. "Alive or not, it's dangerous. And if we don't deal with it, someone else will try to use it—like her. And then it'll all be for nothing, what we've suffered."

Elias didn't respond. His thoughts were consumed by the visions the harp had shown him—the ancient city, the robed figures, and the devastation that followed. The harp wasn't just a relic of the past; it was a piece of something much larger, something far beyond his understanding. Something that calls to him. Even now, through the visions throbbing his mind.

They walked in silence for what felt like hours. The desert stretching before them, formed endless waves of dunes. The horizon shimmered with heat, and Elias's throat was dry from the hot wind. He longed for a distraction that'd take his mind from the relentless heat, from the visions he couldn't shake, from the faint hum of the harp's melody.

Finally, Alina spoke. "We need a plan."

Elias nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "We'll need to find someone who knows more about the harp. Someone who can help us figure out what to do with it."

"And where exactly do we find someone like that?" Alina asked, her tone skeptical.

Elias hesitated. "There are legends… stories about people who've studied the different elements of the old magic. Scholars, mystics. If anyone knows about the harp, it will be them."

Alina sighed, adjusting the strap of her pack. "Legends and stories. Great. That's exactly what we need right now."

Elias allowed himself a small smile. "Do you have a better idea?"

Alina opened her mouth to respond but stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowing.

"What is it?" Elias asked, following her gaze.

Far ahead, a plume of dust rose from the desert floor, accompanied by the faint sound of hoofbeats.

"Riders," Alina said, her voice tense. "And they're heading straight for us."

Elias's heart raced as the riders drew closer, their figures becoming clearer against the backdrop of the desert. There were four of them, clad in dark robes that billowed in the wind. Their horses were sleek and powerful, their hooves kicking up clouds of sand.

Alina stepped in front of Elias, her dagger drawn. "Stay behind me."

Elias frowned but didn't argue. He tightened his grip on his walking stick, his muscles tense.

The riders slowed as they approached, their leader—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a scar running down his cheek—raising a hand to halt the group.

"You don't look like you belong here," the man said, his voice rough. His gaze lingered on Alina, then shifted to Elias. "Travelers, are you?"

"Something like that," Alina replied cautiously.

The man's eyes narrowed. "You've come from the tower, haven't you?"

Elias and Alina exchanged a glance. "What if we have?" Elias asked.

The man's expression darkened. "That place is cursed. No one enters and leaves unscathed. What did you find in there?"

"Nothing of your concern," Alina said sharply.

The man's lips curled into a smirk. "Is that so? Well, I think it is my concern. You see, I've been tracking a certain artifact—a harp of considerable value. And something tells me you know exactly where it is."

Elias's blood ran cold. "We don't have it," he said quickly.

The man chuckled, a low, menacing sound. "Maybe not. But you've seen it, haven't you? And that makes you valuable."

He raised his hand, and the other riders dismounted, their weapons drawn.

Elias and Alina backed away, their odds looking grim. The riders were armed with swords and crossbows, their movements practiced and deliberate.

"Any brilliant ideas?" Alina whispered.

"Working on it," Elias muttered.

The lead rider stepped forward, his sword gleaming in the sunlight. "You have two choices. Tell us where the harp is, or die here in the sand."

Elias's mind raced. He could feel the faint hum of the harp's melody in the back of his mind, like a distant beacon. It wasn't far. If the riders knew of its existence, there was no guarantee they wouldn't find it eventually.

"We can't let them get to it," Elias said quietly.

Alina nodded, her grip on her dagger tightening. "Then we fight."

The lead rider raised his sword, signaling his men to advance.

But before the first blow could land, a powerful gust of wind swept through the desert, throwing sand into the air and obscuring their vision.

"What the—?" the lead rider shouted, shielding his face.

Elias felt the harp's melody surge within him, and for a moment, the world seemed to shift. The sandstorm grew fiercer, swirling around them like a living thing, rising against the riders.

Alina grabbed his arm. "What's happening?"

"I don't know," Elias admitted. "But I think the harp is protecting us."

The storm intensified, forcing the riders to retreat. Their shouts were lost in the howling wind as they mounted their horses and fled, disappearing into the swirling sands.

As quickly as it had begun, the storm subsided, leaving the desert eerily quiet.

Elias and Alina stood there, their hearts pounding.

"That was close," Alina said, brushing sand from her clothes.

Elias nodded, his gaze distant. "Too close."

He looked toward the horizon, where the faint outline of a distant settlement could be seen.

"We need answers," he said firmly. "And we're not going to find them out here."

Alina followed his gaze, her expression determined. "Then let's keep moving."

Together, they set off toward the settlement, the weight of the harp's power—and the danger it attracted—heavy on their minds.