VALDIS: CHAPTER 62

The sun hung like a molten orb in the cloudless sky, searing the desert sands below.

Around a pit carved into the earth, slaves toiled under the oppressive heat, their faces streaked with sweat and dust.

Skin scorched by the sun bore the angry red marks of whips, and their hands, raw and calloused, gripped tools that bit into the unyielding ground.

Groans of exertion mixed with barked orders from the overseers, whose whips cracked the air, echoing across the dunes.

Valdis moved among the suffering, her robes of pale blue and silver standing out like a beacon of calm amidst chaos.

Her hands, though steady and practiced, trembled slightly as they cleaned a wound on a young woman's shoulder, a deep lash inflicted by an overseer for faltering under the weight of her task.

The girl flinched but did not cry out, her lips pressed tightly together.