Old Sand Town

On the Road to Old Sand Town

The desert sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dunes as the group rode in silence. The heat had lessened, and the wind had calmed, allowing conversation to finally rise between hoofbeats.

Tozi, ever the quiet observer, decided to break the silence.

"So… what are your names?" he asked, glancing at the women riding just ahead. "Would love to know you all more."

The women looked at each other, unsure who would speak first. Eventually, Lolia—the eldest—guided her horse to ride beside him.

She took a breath, then spoke with the calm strength of someone who had seen too much.

"I'm Lolia. The eldest. Leader of this little clan… or what's left of it."

Her voice softened.

"We used to be more. A lot more. We lost so many girls to Hexmoth's wickedness. I was the only one strong enough to protect the few who remained."

She looked ahead, the road stretching endlessly before them.

"Yes, we were feared across the outer kingdoms—but that was because our men were heartless. C-rank warriors. Brutal. Dangerous. I always feared we'd run into someone far more powerful one day. Someone we wouldn't recognize… until it was too late."

Her gaze turned to Kalamari for a moment, thoughtful.

"Every woman here only stayed because Hexmoth took everything from them. Families. Homes. Dignity."

She paused, her jaw tightening.

"I watched him do it. I was a victim too. Hexmoth wanted to build a kingdom of his own. He caused chaos across every land just to find more people to call 'family.' It's that bad."

She fell silent for a moment, then turned in her saddle.

"Let me introduce the others."

She motioned to her right.

"The lady beside me is Tessa. One of the strongest fighters among us. She joined not long after I did—fierce and loyal."

She looked over to the other side.

"The young beauty beside you is Kora. She's only sixteen. The youngest of us. I still can't forgive myself for letting Hexmoth do what he did to her."

Kora looked down, silent.

"The one on my left," Lolia continued, "is Saela—the one with the voice of a goddess. Hexmoth stole her from her father just because he loved her singing."

Tozi glanced at Saela, who smiled softly without a word.

"I suppose your brother Kalamari already knows the woman behind him—Bethy. She's our strategist. If we survived as long as we did, it was thanks to her mind."

Bethy winked at Kalamari, who gave a faint smirk.

"And the last is Migona," Lolia added. "Our artist. She can sketch a map or forge a signature with perfect precision. Her drawings have saved our lives more than once."

When Lolia finished, her gaze lingered on Kalamari.

"You know… something's been on my mind."

He turned toward her, brows raised.

"You seem to have the discipline and presence of an A-rank warrior," she said carefully. "But the way you focus… the stillness in your aura—I wouldn't be surprised if you were an A-rank master."

Kalamari didn't reply immediately. He just smiled faintly.

"I almost didn't expect you to accept our offer," Lolia said, watching him. "I doubt you even have a girlfriend, do you?"

That made the others laugh—Tozi especially.

Kalamari shrugged, a relaxed glint in his eye.

"You're not wrong, Lolia. I don't have a girlfriend."

The group fell silent, surprised.

Bethy tilted her head. "Why not?"

Kalamari kept his gaze on the horizon.

"Because I've never tried dating. Not once."

Even Tozi blinked at that, surprised.

"You?" he said. "Of all people?"

Kalamari chuckled.

Tozi added, "Well, I haven't had one either. All I do back home is train, work, and repeat."

"A lot of girls tried coming around," he admitted, "but I guess I was focused on just being… me."

He shrugged casually. "I don't even know if I want one right now."

Kalamari gave him a side glance, then smirked.

"Yeah? Like I didn't see how you looked at Saela?"

Tozi's eyes widened. "Wha—?"

Saela giggled, trying to play innocent, while hiding her smile behind her hand.

Tozi looked over at her. She blushed.

Everyone laughed.

Even Kalamari allowed a soft chuckle.

But Lolia remained thoughtful, watching Kalamari closely. There was something more to him, she knew—something deeper than what he showed. The calm. The quiet. The clarity.

She didn't say it aloud.

But she was sure of one thing now:

He wasn't just a warrior.

He was something far more dangerous.

And far more rare.

Arrival at Old Sand Town

Old Sand Town shimmered on the horizon like a dream half-remembered—dusty, sun-worn, and quiet.

Built from ochre-colored stone and bleached wood, its buildings leaned slightly from decades of sandstorms. The wind whispered through narrow alleys, tugging at shawls and scarves, kicking up grains of time like forgotten memories.

Kalamari, Tozi, and the six women arrived just before sunset, the desert behind them glowing in shades of blood and fire.

They entered through the south gate, unnoticed at first—just another group of tired travelers. But the locals watched from behind shaded windows and crooked market stalls, eyes narrowing as they passed. The presence of warriors always rippled the air, invisible but undeniable.

The women led the way, clearly familiar with the winding paths. They brought the group to a tucked-away inn called The Ember Nest, a modest place with red curtains, clay lanterns, and a quiet, knowing energy. A former hideout—now a safe rest stop.

Inside, the warmth was immediate—soft rugs, low fire pits, the smell of cardamom and roasted goat.

The innkeeper, a broad-shouldered woman with gold earrings and sharper eyes than most soldiers, stepped from behind the counter with a slow nod.

"Lolia," she said. "Didn't expect to see you again."

"We're not staying long," Lolia replied with a gentle smile. "But we'll need food, rest, and—" she glanced over her shoulder at Kalamari "—a few private rooms."

The innkeeper raised an eyebrow at the two unfamiliar men, then smirked knowingly.

"Understood."

---

The Ember Nest, That Night

That night, The Ember Nest came alive.

Wine flowed in clay cups. Food arrived in heavy platters—spiced meats, warm bread, and dates soaked in honey. The women, finally free after years of survival and suffering, let their laughter ring out as they bathed, dressed, and lounged in soft robes with the warriors who had unknowingly become their salvation.

Tozi sat on a silk cushion near the fire, one of the younger women nestled close beside him. Her name was Saela, and she had a voice like a song half-whispered. She fed him fruit with her fingers, laughing at how serious he stayed, even in the softness of the moment.

"You're allowed to enjoy yourself," she teased, brushing her fingers across his lips. "You're not on the battlefield anymore."

Tozi allowed a faint smile. "Just a different kind of battlefield."

She laughed again and leaned closer.

Meanwhile, Kalamari sat farther off in the shadows, his back to the wall, holding a glass and gently swirling its contents. His expression was unreadable, his body still, but he didn't stop the women from drawing near.

Bethy, bold and playful, eased herself beside him, her voice soft and warm.

She whispered stories of Old Sand Town—of the people they once knew, of the mistakes made, and of the dreams they'd given up long ago. Dreams stolen by men like Hexmoth, and maybe—just maybe—restored by men like Kalamari.

He listened.

He always listened.

Later, they sat together in a dim-lit corner, the room hushed with comfort and the dull hum of distant desert wind.

They talked about freedom—what it meant now. Whether violence could ever lead to peace. Whether loyalty was something you gave… or something earned.

For the first time in many years, they weren't soldiers or survivors.

They were just people.

Lolia poured another glass of wine and raised it high.

"To surviving," she said, her voice steady but warm.

Bethy grinned, lifting hers in turn. "And to enjoying survival."

They drank.

They touched.

The room, already heavy with music and firelight, pulsed with something more now—something intimate, electric.

Bethy turned to Kalamari. Without a word, she placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled him into a kiss.

It was his first.

For all the wars he had fought, the lives he had taken, the roads he had walked—he had never been kissed.

And now, it shook him.

His spirit stirred like a flame drawn to air. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, deeper, stronger, as though something long dormant had finally awakened.

The others noticed.

Jealousy sparkled in their eyes—not bitter, but playful. Curious. One by one, the women came forward. Each took her turn, pulling him close, letting their lips speak what words could not.

Their hands, their laughter, their breath—it all surrounded him like a dance of life returned.

Tozi, seated nearby with Saela in his arms, raised an eyebrow. "Yoo... Y'all need a room for this."

Saela leaned in, her voice honeyed. "So do we," she whispered, pulling him toward one of the private chambers.

As they disappeared into the quiet, candlelit hallway, Kalamari remained where he was, surrounded by women who had once known only chains.

Now, they reached for him not out of fear—but desire. Trust.

And he gave himself in return.

Though it was his first time, there was something in him—divine, unrelenting—that answered them all. A god learning not war, but touch. Not conquest, but closeness.

That night, the pleasures they shared were not frantic or forgotten. They were slow, deliberate—an offering.

Not born of desperation, but of choice.

A reminder that they were still human. That they could still feel warmth.

Still give and receive it.

Still love.

---

The next morning, the sun cast long shadows over the town square. The cool desert breeze stirred through the air, carrying with it the smell of spice, sand, and new beginnings.

Kalamari, Tozi, and the women stepped out of The Ember Nest, the warmth of the previous night still lingering in their hearts. Laughter came easy. Their steps were lighter.

Tessa, tall and dark-eyed, suddenly stopped mid-step. Her gaze locked on two women across the square. Recognition flashed.

"Rina? Mala?"

The sisters, once her closest friends from the training fields of the western desert, gasped. Then they ran to her. The embrace was fierce, full of tears and disbelief. They laughed, cried, and held each other as though afraid it might all vanish.

It was a moment of joy.

But peace never lingers long.

From the edge of the square, a shadow stirred.

A tall man approached—broad-shouldered, thick-armed, with crooked teeth and the kind of eyes that had only known control through fear. Gunkalni. A name most in Old Sand Town said with a grimace. He had once strutted the alleys like a mutt with stolen bones, preying on those weaker than himself.

And he remembered Tessa.

"Well, well, well," he sneered as he stepped too close. "Didn't know whores traveled with bodyguards now."

His hand shot out, gripping Tessa's arm.

She pulled back. "Let go of me, you—!"

But before her voice could rise further, Kalamari was there.

No one saw him move.

One blink, and he stood beside them.

Silent.

Still.

Dangerous.

Gunkalni turned, startled. He met Kalamari's eyes—and froze.

They weren't furious. They weren't even warning him.

They were calm.

Too calm.

"What?" Gunkalni barked, trying to recover. "You her bodyguard or something? Why you looking at me like that?"

Kalamari didn't speak. He looked at the hand gripping Tessa's arm, then back at the man's face. The message was clear.

Let her go.

Gunkalni scoffed, though his voice faltered. "Or what? You gonna make me drop dead with a stare?"

Kalamari still said nothing. Instead, he raised a single finger and pressed it lightly against Gunkalni's chest.

A pulse of energy rippled through the man's body. His smirk vanished.

His legs buckled.

His bones felt like sand inside his skin. The air left his lungs in a shallow gasp. He tried to speak, to threaten, but only a weak wheeze came out. Then—silence.

Gunkalni collapsed, groaning in the dust, confusion and fear written all over his face.

Kalamari stood over him, expression unchanged.

"Are you okay?" he asked Tessa softly, eyes not leaving the man at his feet.

She blinked, surprised. "I'm fine," she said, her voice hushed. "He didn't hurt me."

"Good." Kalamari turned and walked back toward the others, leaving Gunkalni gasping, his pride crushed and body trembling in the dirt.

Tozi raised an eyebrow as Kalamari approached. "You didn't even draw breath."

Kalamari gave a half-shrug. "Didn't need to."

The women, including the innkeeper, stood speechless for a beat too long. Even those who knew warriors stared, confused and awed. They'd seen strength. But they hadn't seen this.

No chaos. No blades drawn. No blood spilled.

Just power.

And they were starting to realize they had someone unlike anyone else on their side.

---

Later that afternoon, the courtyard of The Ember Nest was filled with music. The women played old songs on worn instruments. Laughter echoed off the sandstone walls. Children from the town had come to listen, some dancing barefoot in the dust.

Bethy sat with a little girl in her lap, smiling as the child braided strands of her hair.

"I think I want to stay," she thought quietly, not realizing her mind had spoken.

From the doorway, Kalamari leaned against the frame, watching the scene. The light caught the edge of his jaw, his shadow long and still.

"You should," he said, his voice soft and certain. "But not yet."

Bethy turned quickly, eyes wide. "Thruans Kingdom first?" she asked.

He nodded once and stepped inside, disappearing into the cool shadows of the inn.

She stared after him, heart pounding.

"Who is this guy?" she whispered. "How does he do it?"

---

And so, as the sun began its slow descent behind the dunes, they readied themselves for the next leg of the journey.

But for this one rare day—there was no death.

No screams.

Only warmth. Music.

And a name whispered across the sands.

Kalamari.