Where the Road Bends

"Have your caution ready if you ever find yourself near the veins," he added. "Even strong fires can twist if fed the wrong kind of fuel."

At that, Rasha felt a chill brush the edges of her flame. Her mind flashed unbidden to the Fire Tribe — once proud, once guided — now burning itself hollow in its hunger for power. The words fit too easily. Too well.

Rasha hesitated, then asked, "How do you know all this?"

Talo scuffed his boot into the dirt, glancing aside. "There was a trader," he said. "Used to visit the camps sometimes, wherever we traveled. He moved through strange paths... brought goods from places most people didn't dare go.

Sometimes, when the fire burned low, he'd talk about the old things — the veins, the warnings. I listened."

He met her gaze evenly. "I don't know if everything he said was true. But the veins? Those are real."

Rasha absorbed that quietly, feeling the Fire Spirit inside her lean inward — not fearful, but wary, like a flame reluctant to touch spoiled wood.

They packed what was left of their meal without speaking much more.

The sun had climbed higher. Shadows grew sharper, etched hard against the sand. The road ahead was still unseen, but the land around them began to shift — subtle dips and rolls in the desert, scattered stone outcroppings rising like old teeth.

Talo pointed out signs as they moved — wind-scraped stones, the faint trail of something dry and slithering, the occasional crumbling trace of hoofprints.

"Camels, maybe," he said once. "Caravan tracks. Old."

Rasha listened more than she spoke, saving her strength. The Fire Spirit inside her pulsed low and even, matching the long, slow breath of the desert itself.

Midday wore on, and the landscape flattened into harder sand and shallow basins. The wind sharpened — not fierce, but steady, carrying heat like a slow tide. Their canteens were growing lighter.

"There," Talo said, pointing ahead toward a line of cracked stone formations. "That's where the road bends."

Still far — but closer.

Rasha nodded, falling into the rhythm of each step, her movements deliberate now. She no longer fought the desert — she moved with it.

They crested a low dune, and suddenly the ground cracked beneath Talo's foot.

He sank slightly — not enough to vanish, but enough to curse under his breath. "Wind crust," he muttered. "Hollow underneath. Step wrong and it'll take you."

He crouched, brushing his hand across the surface.

Rasha knelt to help stabilize him, and together they backed off the weakened patch.

Below them, a shallow pit of broken stone and loose sand yawned — natural, but dangerous enough to snap a leg if they hadn't caught themselves.

They stood, brushing dust from their clothes.

"That wasn't set to stop us," Rasha said quietly. "But it could've."

Talo nodded. "And there'll be more."

They pressed forward more carefully, testing the ground before each step. The desert here wasn't hostile — it was simply waiting for mistakes.

The sun dipped lower, bleeding red along the ridges, and the scent of dry stone thickened in the air.

Then — at last — the road came into view.

It wasn't grand. A worn ribbon of packed earth baked into ruddy stone, ancient and battered, lined here and there with broken markers.

But it was a road. And it meant direction.

Rasha exhaled slowly. "We made it."

Talo smiled, small and satisfied. "Told you."

They turned east without hesitation, following the ancient grooves of vanished caravans, the fading marks of forgotten travelers.

They didn't speak much. The sound of their boots on solid ground was enough.

And that's when they saw the shape ahead.

A figure — alone — standing where the road dipped near a shallow gully. Cloaked. Hunched. Something bundled over one shoulder.

Talo stopped first. "You see that?"

Rasha nodded, narrowing her eyes. "They're not moving."

The figure remained still. Not approaching. Not retreating. Waiting.

The desert wind curled around them, lifting grains of sand in low whirls, whispering across the hard road.

Rasha's hand drifted subtly to her side.

Talo gave her a sharp glance, then muttered, "Let's find out."

And together, cautious but unflinching, they approached the stranger standing in the dust.