Twelve: Below Freezing, Above Boiling. 

Next chapter update will be on Friday 21st March. 

Sawyer couldn't sleep, a gnawing unease unsettling him. A persistent whisper at the back of his mind warned him that despite the apparent smoothness of their journey, something was terribly wrong. Ignoring the turbulence and the shaking of the jet, he couldn't shake the feeling that everything was proceeding too easily. As they entered the designated red airspace, his instincts screamed at him, a primal alarm bell ringing in his head. Something was about to happen.

"Hmmm, that's weird," Mark called out, lifting his head from the screen in front of him.

"What happened?" Sawyer asked, a knot of fear tightening in his stomach.

"I'm detecting a large magical airlock surrounding the jet," Mark replied, his brow furrowed, "but we're as stable as a house."

The moment he uttered the word "house," the plane lurched violently, as if to contradict his statement.

"Well, not that stable," Mark amended quickly, "but still good enough—"

He didn't have time to finish. Sawyer was suddenly thrown from the plane, tumbling through the air. He had no idea what had happened. The violent winds buffeted him, disorienting him completely. He could hear Mark shouting something, but the darkness was impenetrable. He had no sense of how far they were from the ground, no understanding of the situation. He only knew, from the burning light above them, that something large and heavy was falling behind them, gaining rapidly.

"Shit!" he yelled into the wind.

Sarah witnessed the event unfold. Having just completed another set of incantations with her crew, she decided to check on Sawyer. She found him engaged in conversation with Mark, a reassuring sight. At least she didn't have to babysit him for the moment. She was about to turn away when a sudden impact rocked the jet. It was incredibly fast, but she registered the horrifying sight of the plane bursting open, ejecting Sawyer and Mark into the black abyss.

The plane shuddered violently, spinning and threatening to crash. Sarah reacted instantly. Leaping down from the wall, she grabbed two parachutes from their holders and jumped out of the gaping hole in the fuselage, following the other half of the jet.

With practiced efficiency, she spun in mid-air, already strapping on one of the parachutes. Then, she dove after the two men, moving like a bullet through the darkness. She could see red lights streaking towards them.

Someone was using magic – long-range magic. Not her favorite kind. She twisted in the air, narrowly avoiding a projectile that whizzed past her. Spinning around, she saw it strike one of the jet's wings, causing a small explosion. Another projectile was already hurtling towards her. With no time to dodge, she braced herself, tensing her body to absorb the impact. The magic slammed into her, her scales rippling and dimming red as they absorbed most of the force. The blast threw her off course, but she quickly regained her bearings. She could hear Mark's screams echoing below her. Still unable to see him in the pitch-black sky, her eyes began to glow a vibrant green, allowing her to perceive their body heat signatures.

Mark was just below her. She could also see the large, burning object – the other half of the jet – and knew Sawyer was likely behind it. She wrapped her tail around Mark and pulled him close, forcefully attaching the parachute to his arm.

"Wear that!" she shouted, hoping he heard her over the roar of the wind. Straightening her body, she accelerated, blasting past him with immense speed. She had to reach Sawyer; they were dangerously close to the ground. The burning wreckage of the jet was still between them. She desperately needed a way through, but no solution came to mind. In a flash of inspiration, she unsheathed the two daggers that were strapped in an X across her back.

Sarah executed a swift, X-shaped motion with her hands, slicing through the air with such force that it propelled her forward. She was still diving headfirst toward the burning jet when it split in two, creating a narrow opening. She slipped through just in time to grab Sawyer's arm and wrap herself around him. Simultaneously, she deployed her parachute, slowing their descent.

The parachute, never designed to bear the weight of two people, strained under the load, threatening to tear. It held just long enough to bring them crashing down onto the sand before finally giving way. Sarah sprang to her feet, immediately scanning the area for any sign of immediate danger. An eerie silence hung in the air, broken only by Mark's distant shouts. Fortunately, he had managed to deploy the parachute Sarah had shoved into his hand mid-air.

Suddenly, the sky was illuminated by a bright flash as the two halves of the disintegrating jet plummeted toward them.

"Shit!" Sarah yelled, yanking Sawyer to his feet and throwing him over her shoulder. She sprinted across the sand, Mark scrambling behind her, cursing with every step. Sarah dove forward, throwing herself to the ground and rolling across the cold sand, using her body as a shield to protect Sawyer as they braced for the impact. A deafening boom echoed across the quiet desert sky. They lay there motionless for several minutes, as if waiting for some unseen threat to materialize.

Sawyer slowly sat up, groaning. "What happened?" he asked, his voice filled with confusion.

"We were hit," Sarah replied, sheathing her daggers and helping him to his feet.

He stood, brushing the sand off his clothes and trying to adjust to the darkness. He could see nothing. "I thought the Red Desert was supposed to be hot?" he commented.

"Yeah," Sarah replied dryly, "it is. During the day. But at night, temperatures can plummet to minus thirty-two degrees."

Sawyer stared at Mark, his face etched with concern. "Minus thirty-two?!" he repeated, incredulous.

"Where are we?" Sarah asked, turning to Mark.

"I managed one last scan before our signal was blocked," Mark replied.

"Good, so—wait, did you say blocked?" Sarah asked sharply.

"Yes," he confirmed. "All communications are down. Even magic. Can't you feel it?"

Sarah did. She had been relying solely on her physical strength, assuming the subtle magical interference was a minor issue. Now, with Mark's confirmation, she realized the situation was far more serious.

"So, what's the plan?" Sawyer asked.

"My last scan showed the other half of the jet landed about ninety kilometers south," Mark said. "We could try to reach them and see if they have better luck with communications."

"No," Sarah countered. "That's a diversion. The gate is north, and I'm betting the crew—if they're alive—will be heading that way too."

"So, let me get this straight," Sawyer said, a hint of panic in his voice. "You want us to just wander across the desert, the three of us, with no weapons, no backup, in a desert crawling with those reptile things?"

"Kamilans," Sarah corrected.

"Oh, great, they even have a name," Sawyer muttered.

"That's not our only problem," Mark added. "Without a warning jacket, we'll be as good as dead—well, except for Sarah—long before the kamilans find us."

"What do you mean?" Sawyer asked.

"The temperature swings are extreme," Mark explained. "It's scorching hot during the day, above boiling, and then it drops far below freezing at night. Without a warning jacket to regulate our body temperature, we'll either be burned to a crisp or frozen solid."

"Great," Sawyer exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Just what we needed. Even more problems."

"Shut up, Mark!" Sarah snapped, her voice sharp. "Don't make things worse than they already are!" As she spoke, the ground beneath them trembled violently, then abruptly stopped.

"What was that?" Sawyer asked, stumbling backward. His watch beeped frantically. Mark turned to Sarah, his face grim.

"Sandstorm!" he yelled over the rising wind, and immediately took off running, Sarah and Sawyer close behind.

The ground erupted, and the violent winds snatched the burning wreckage of the jet from the ground, tossing it into the air like a toy and tearing it apart. Sawyer witnessed the spectacle firsthand and knew he wanted no part of whatever destructive forces were at play.

"Come on!" Sarah shouted, grabbing Sawyer's jacket and throwing him forward. He rolled across the sand, scrambling to his feet and continuing the desperate sprint.

"Fuck!" Mark bellowed. Despite his size, he was surprisingly fast, almost keeping pace with Sarah, who moved with an almost supernatural agility.

"I don't want to die!" Mark cried again, his voice laced with panic.

"If you spent less time talking and more time running, maybe you wouldn't!" Sarah retorted.

"Hold up!" Mark shouted, skidding to a halt. A holographic map projected from a device strapped to his chest. His fingers flew across the interface, zooming in and out as he ran.

He looked up suddenly. "Sawyer, wait!" he yelled, but the wind and the sheer tension of the moment muffled his words.

"Sawyer, there is a—"

It was too late. Sawyer stepped into a hidden sand pit and plummeted into the darkness below.

Sarah stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes narrowing into a dangerous glare as she looked at Mark.

"What?" he stammered. "It wasn't my fault!" But she simply stared at him, her expression unforgiving.

"I mean, it was my fault a little," Mark amended nervously, "but everyone knows you should wait for the IT guy, especially one with a map, in a dark place—"

"What are you doing?!" Mark exclaimed as Sarah grabbed the vest on his chest and hauled him forward. For a woman of her size, she pulled him with surprising ease.

"Wait, I'm not going down there!" Mark protested. "I'm not good with practical stuff—Ahh!" he yelped as Sarah unceremoniously shoved him into the pit, following right after him.

Sawyer's body screamed in protest. Tumbling down a sandy pit was not his idea of fun. He groaned and rolled onto his back, staring up into the impenetrable darkness.

He wanted to call out for Sarah, but he wasn't sure if he was alone. He rolled back onto his stomach and slowly pushed himself to a sitting position. Chills ran through his body, an odd sensation like being lightly electrocuted. It wasn't painful, but he instinctively knew the extent of his injuries, and where they were located. He could feel his body working to repair itself—wait, was he healing? he wondered.

As if in response to his thoughts, he was suddenly engulfed in a wave of intense pain, almost to the point of screaming. He heard a snap as his foot reset itself, then groaned and grabbed it, his fingers probing for damage. Aside from the lingering pain, his foot seemed perfectly fine.

He stood up, testing his weight on the foot. It felt brand new. His eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness. He reached out, trying to find the walls of the pit, when a loud thud behind him startled him. He whirled around to see something rising in the darkness, grumbling.

"Mark?!" Sawyer called out.

"Oh, you're alive. Good—ouch!" Mark yelped as Sarah stepped on his face before landing gracefully on the ground, almost without a sound.

"That hurts!" Mark exclaimed, wincing in pain.

"Where are we?" Sawyer asked, his voice echoing in the confined space.

"In a sand pit, it appears," Mark replied, "almost sixty feet below sea level."

"Wait, did you say sixty?" Sawyer asked, his voice filled with surprise.

"Yeah," Mark said. "I was wondering how you even survived that fall." He grabbed a glow stick from his vest and snapped it, illuminating the immediate area.

"You had that the whole time?" Sarah asked, her voice laced with annoyance. As she spoke, she heard low growls echoing around them. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows until she spotted them: large, canine-like creatures with golden, slitted eyes and red scales.

"Kamilans, right?" Mark asked, nervously waving the glow stick around.

"Nobody moves," Sarah commanded, drawing both of her daggers. The blades shimmered faintly in the dim light.

"Wait, isn't that a bad idea?" Sawyer asked, taking a cautious step back.

"Kamilans don't attack unless we move," Sarah explained.

"Isn't that peculiar to the ones with green scales?" Mark asked curiously.

"Shit! Run!" Sarah yelled, as the creatures began to advance. The trio turned and sprinted towards the nearest opening in the sand pit.

"Great, it just had to be a breeding pit," Mark muttered as they rounded a corner, only to find themselves face-to-face with a multitude of kamilans, blocking their path. The creatures snarled, their red scales gleaming in the dim light.

"Turn left!" Mark shouted, consulting the holographic map on his wrist. They veered into a narrow passage. Mark swiped at the map, pushing it away as he scrambled to climb into the passage, following close behind Sarah and Sawyer. The passage narrowed up that they had to get on their hands and knees crawling their way through, He glanced up to see Sarah's behind inches from his.

"Oh," he stammered.

"Keep staring at my ass, and I'll feed you to the kamilans," she hissed before turning to Sawyer. "Can you move any faster?" she asked.

"I wish," he replied, "but this opening wasn't exactly built for running."

The growling behind them indicated that the kamilans were closing in. Sarah stopped abruptly and slid between them, now positioned behind Mark. She grabbed his vest and pulled him down to her level. "Protect Sawyer," she instructed, shoving a small pistol into his hand.

"Wait, me?" he protested, but Sarah was already gone, disappearing back into the darkness. He tightened his grip on the pistol, his hand trembling slightly. He turned to Sawyer, trying to project an air of confidence.

"We should get going," he said, trying to sound braver than he felt.

"Should I take that?" Sawyer asked, extending his hand towards the gun.

"Definitely," Mark replied, handing it over. Sawyer checked the magazine with practiced ease before reloading it.

"Wow, when did you learn to do that?" Mark asked, impressed. But Sawyer simply smiled and said, "Let's go."

Mark nodded, running after Sawyer.