Wrath of the sandborn.

The desert stretched endlessly, its dunes rippling under the blistering sun. The Targari scouts moved like ghosts upon the sand, their cloaks blending into the shifting waves of gold. They were not merely warriors—they were the last true sons and daughters of the desert, descendants of an unbroken lineage of survivalists and beast tamers.

Tonight, they stalked something other than prey.

A rogue earthworm had surfaced near the Border Road, restless and untamed. The creature was massive—longer than five men, its armored body glistening with thick layers of hardened scales. It twisted violently beneath the command of a young scout, who tried to subdue it with a series of sharp, commanding hand gestures.

"It won't obey," the scout, Dakar, grunted, wiping sweat from his brow. "It's resisting the call."

"Then it is lost," replied a calm, authoritative voice.

The warriors turned as their leader, Nayomi Targari, stepped forward. She was noble-born, her blood tied to the first generation, a rare connection that made her one of the few who could truly command the desert's greatest horrors.

Nayomi was striking—her skin bronzed by the sun, her piercing amber eyes sharp enough to cut steel. A pair of curved blades rested at her hips, and her veil of fine silk barely concealed the regal tattoos along her jawline—markings of the royal Targari line.

She studied the worm, then raised her hand. The creature hesitated, sensing her presence. But before she could claim its will, another sound broke through the desert winds.

The low, rhythmic creak of wagon wheels.

---

The Convoy in Sight

The Targari scouts turned their attention toward the Kink convoy moving along the Border Road. Twenty mounted soldiers rode alongside three wagons filled with shackled Delian prisoners. Even from a distance, they could hear the coarse laughter of the Kink soldiers, oblivious to the dangers surrounding them.

"Prisoners," one scout murmured. "Delians."

"We do not interfere," another said quickly. "We are not their saviors."

But Nayomi's eyes narrowed. She watched as a soldier—a Nyxthorn brute—grabbed a prisoner by the hair and laughed as he yanked him forward, forcing him to stumble. The boy didn't resist. His head was down, his silence unnatural.

Something about him… felt different.

"That one," Nayomi said softly. "The silent one. He's seen suffering."

The scouts exchanged glances. They had all heard the whispers that had reached even the desert—of the blood moon prophecy.

Nayomi's hand tightened around the hilt of her blade.

"We attack."

Some of the scouts hesitated. "Lady Nayomi, this is not our war."

Her gaze hardened. "No. But it once was."

She turned toward the rogue earthworm, still writhing in defiance. "And perhaps, it still is."

---

The Kink Soldiers' Fear

The Kinks were oblivious to the danger creeping toward them. Sergeant Dravik rode at the front, exhausted from the long journey. He hated this road. The desert always felt wrong to him—too quiet, too watchful.

Behind him, Garrik and Rolf were bickering.

"I'd rather die drunk than in this damn heat," Garrik muttered.

"You'd rather die drunk than anywhere," Rolf snorted.

"I'm serious. Imagine being swallowed whole by one of those worms? Just sliding down its throat—helpless." Garrik shivered. "You think you'd feel yourself getting digested?"

Rolf groaned. "Why in the gods' names do you think about these things?"

"Because this is the Border Road, and people don't leave it alive!" Garrik snapped.

Sergeant Dravik exhaled sharply. "Enough. Keep moving—"

And then—

The first soldier vanished.

No sound. No warning. One moment, he was riding. The next, his horse trotted forward without him.

The men froze.

Then—another vanished.

"What the hell—?!"

Panic surged through the convoy. The soldiers drew their weapons, eyes darting wildly. The desert was swallowing them.

And then came the whispers.

A whirling gust of sand erupted near the rear wagons, and in the swirl of dust, a figure emerged like a phantom. A dagger flashed—one soldier fell. Another barely had time to scream before a second blade slid across his throat.

The Targari were among them.

One by one, the shadows in the sand materialized, moving with terrifying grace. Blades flashed in the moonlight. Arrows hissed through the air, finding throats before cries could escape.

The Kink soldiers were dying without even knowing who was killing them.

-

Leo sat chained, his mind numb—until he saw her.

A figure moved past his wagon with effortless speed, cutting down a Kink soldier with a single precise strike. Nayomi.

Leo felt something stir deep inside him. He had no voice to call out. But his heart… his heart pounded.

Was this salvation?

Or another nightmare?

---

Sergeant Dravik roared orders, but it was too late. As he turned his blade toward one of the attackers, the ground beneath them trembled.

A massive shadow shifted beneath the sands.

Then, the rogue earthworm exploded from the desert floor.

Horses reared. Soldiers screamed. The massive creature twisted midair before slamming into the convoy, sending men flying. Its gaping maw opened wide—and in a single, horrifying moment, it swallowed an entire soldier whole.

Panic turned to chaos.

The Kinks had come fearing ghosts. Instead, they found monsters.

---

The Aftermath

When the dust finally settled, the Kink convoy was in ruins.

The soldiers lay dead or dying, their bodies half-buried in the sand. The wagons were shattered. The few survivors ran screaming into the desert, doomed to wander until the heat claimed them.

And the prisoners?

They were free.

Nayomi stood over the remains, her blades dripping red. She turned to Leo, who knelt among the wreckage, his chains broken.

She looked into his hollow eyes, searching for something. Then, in a rare moment of gentleness, she extended a hand.

Leo hesitated.

Then, slowly—he took it.

For the first time since his mother's death, Leo felt something other than grief.

He felt purpose.