He paused, looking back at the smoking horizon where Oryst used to be.
He sighed, his eyes heavy with memory.
Jamih:
Inside the cold stone fortress, he laid LedraDais
Jamih:
He lingered for a moment, staring at the wound. Then he turned and stepped outside to the balcony.
Jamih stood beneath the stars, sipping from a silver flask. The silence of Silva wrapped around him like a shroud.
A shout broke the quiet.
Rami:
Jamih capped his flask and moved slowly, re-entering the chamber. His boots echoed against the stone floor. He stood in the doorway, saying nothing, his silhouette imposing.
Ledra stirred, her eyes barely open. She clutched her neck, trembling from the lingering cold of the void magic.
Ledra:
Jamih took another sip, leaning against the archway.
Jamih:
He stepped closer. Her tears fell silently, soaking into the wool beneath her cheek.
Tariq
Jamih knelt beside her, inspecting the wound closely.
Jamih:
He didn't wait for an answer. He opened a satchel and retrieved a strip of rare, iridescent tanned hide and a small vial of pungent herbal solution.
One of the men whispered to another in the corner.
Othman:Sand-CordileFuad
Jamih gave a faint, almost imperceptible smile. He soaked the hide in the solution and wrapped it gently around Ledra's neck. The skin hissed, then cooled.
Jamih:
Rami
Jamih turned sharply, his eyes blazing.
Jamih:
The Assassins scrambled out, terrified by the shift in tone.
Ledra blinked. The strange bandage was working—slowing the burn, easing the pain into a dull throb.
She watched Jamih as he stood up and walked to the window, swirling the drink in his hand.
Ledra:
Jamih turned instantly, eyes locked on hers.
She flinched.
His voice softened, losing its command edge.
Jamih:
Ledra clutched her neck, her voice hoarse.
Ledra:
Jamih's eyes narrowed. A faint, amused smile tugged at his lips.
Jamih:
Ledra shook her head.
Ledra:
Her tears returned, fresh and hot.
Ledra:
She choked on a sob.
Ledra:
Jamih burst into laughter—loud, raw, and echoing through the stone chamber.
Jamih:
Ledra winced, her nose beginning to bleed from the stress.
Jamih stopped laughing, his expression sobering instantly.
Jamih:
Jamih:
He summoned one of his elite assassins from the hallway Othman
Jamih:Village of the Luminous Tree
Othman
Othman:
Jamih unclipped a dagger from his belt—a blade with a serpentine hilt.
Jamih:Lajm's Blade
He glanced at his own sword, resting in the corner.
Jamih:
He returned to Ledra's side to check her pulse, then stepped back to the window, gazing up at Silva's breathtaking, indifferent sky.
The stars pulsed softly.
He took a long drink, feeling the burn in his throat.
Then, almost to himself, he whispered:
Jamih:
The Assassin's Journey - Morning in Silva
The Assassin, Othman
Othman:
He glanced at the sheathed blade in his hand—Lajm's Dagger
Othman:
He sighed, shaking his head, but the memory of Jamih's blazing eyes kept his feet moving.
Othman:
The morning sun of Silva
Suddenly, a massive Dune Wolf
Othman:
He swung his sword in a panic—
But the beast didn't bite. It didn't even snarl.
The wolf passed him, its golden eyes glazing over him as if he were a rock. It trotted peacefully toward a patch of blooming cactus.
Othman blinked, lowering his weapon.
Othman:
More creatures emerged from the sands. Giant scorpions, hawks, lizards. But none attacked. They walked around him, silent, watchful, imbued with a strange, heavy calm.
Othman:
He remembered Jamih's warning about the "strange events" in the ruins.
Othman:
He swallowed hard and pressed on, reaching the edge of the hidden territory: The Village of the Luminous Tree
A valley of dense, vibrant green trees surrounded a colossal, glowing tree at the center. Its roots pulsed with light even in the daytime.
Othman:
An arrow landed inches from his boot.
Guard:
Othman looked up. Archers were perched in the branches. Warriors with spear-staffs blocked the path. Their eyes were filled with hate.
Othman raised his empty hands, dropping his own sword.
Othman:
Another guard snarled, stepping forward.
Guard:
Othman slowly reached into his belt and revealed Lajm's Blade
Othman:
The guards exchanged confused glances. They recognized the weapon of their oppressor.
One of the older guards finally lowered his spear.
Guard:
A guard knocked frantically on the door of the largest hut, nestled in the roots of the Great Tree.
Guard:
The Elder
Elder:
The guard hesitated.
Guard:them. He has the tattoos."
She smiled, a sad, knowing smile.
Elder:
The guard returned to the gate, looking stunned.
Guard:
Othman obeyed, trembling.
He walked slowly into the village, surrounded by a phalanx of guards. Villagers stopped their work to stare. Some looked with anger, spitting on the ground. Some hid their children behind their skirts in fear. A few whispered for his death.
He entered the Elder's hut. It smelled of sage and ancient earth.
She spoke softly, her voice like dry leaves.
Elder:
Othman fell to his knees, handing her the blade. His hands shook uncontrollably.
Othman:
The Elder took the blade, setting it aside without looking at it. Her eyes narrowed.
Elder:
Othman:
He paused, recalling Ledra's delirious whispers that Jamih had repeated.
Othman:
The room went deadly silent. The guards froze.
The Elder stood up so fast her chair tipped over.
Elder:
Othman:
She sat again, her face draining of color. Her voice dropped to a terrified whisper.
Elder:Black OrderDais
She turned to her guards, her authority snapping back into place.
Elder:
She pointed to the back of the room.
Elder:Mowj
Gasps filled the room.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Guard:
Elder:
Mowj — The Young Healer
Mowj
A guard approached the doorway, his shadow falling over the workbench.
Guard:
Mowj blinked, wiping his hands on a rag.
Mowj:
Guard:
As he walked to the center of the village, people stopped. They stared at him—some with pity, knowing the dangers outside the roots; others with awe, realizing the Elder had chosen the quiet boy for a great task.
Mowj stopped near a small cottage.
Mowj:
Guard:
Mowj entered the hut. It smelled of woodsmoke and baking bread. His aunt lay by the fire, resting her aching joints. She was the one who raised him when the sandstorms took his parents.
He knelt and kissed her forehead.
She opened her eyes, smiling weakly.
Aunt:Sylvance
Mowj blushed, looking down at his feet.
Mowj:
She laughed gently, stroking his cheek.
Aunt:
Mowj opened the wooden chest. Inside was a sturdy traveler's tunic woven from reinforced fibers and a heavy cloak. He filled a satchel with dried fruit and bread.
Tears welled in his eyes. He turned back to her.
She opened her arms.
Aunt:
He hugged her tightly, sobbing into her shoulder.
Mowj:
Aunt:
Outside, the guard watched, looking away to give them privacy.
Guard:
Inside, the Aunt kissed his forehead and reached under her pillow. She handed him a Glowing Green Gem
Aunt:
Mowj:
She placed a finger on his lips.
Aunt:
Mowj wiped his eyes, packed his things, and stepped out. He looked different in the new clothes—less like a boy, more like a traveler.
Mowj:
Mowj entered the Elder's hut. He saw the Assassin, Othman
Othman’s face fell when he saw the teenager.
Othman:
The Elder smiled, placing a hand on Mowj's shoulder.
Elder:Mowj
Othman stared, unconvinced.
Othman:
The Elder spoke firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.
Elder:
Mowj bowed low.
Mowj:
Elder:
She handed him a letter sealed with thick tree resin. She leaned in, whispering so the Assassin couldn't hear.
Elder:Commander
Mowj nodded, tucking the letter deep into his tunic.
Elder:
Mowj turned to Othman.
Mowj:
Othman sighed, sheathing his sword.
Othman:
They walked out of the village, leaving the safety of the roots behind.
They walked in silence, the sand shifting beneath their boots. The sun beat down on them, indifferent to their mission.
Mowj
The Assassin, Othman
Othman:
Mowj shook his head, clutching the strap of his satchel where the Green Gem
Mowj:
Othman muttered, kicking a stone.
Othman:
He paused, looking at his own scarred hands.
Othman:
Mowj:
Othman gripped his sword tighter.
Othman:
Mowj said nothing. He watched the Assassin's face—hardened by years of killing, yet looking for validation from a teenager.
They walked toward the Valley of Wonders
Mowj:
Othman:
He smiled faintly, a crooked expression.
Othman:
Under Silva'sElder
Elder:
She clutched her chest, coughing violently into her sleeve. When she pulled it away, there was blood.
Elder:Dais
She looked up. The constellations were shifting. The mana in the air was vibrating, heavy and metallic.
Elder:AurikHer eyes grew misty, looking at the empty space beside her where friends once stood.
Elder:Rabah... Jeina... Ramah... Caesar
A tear traced a line through the dust on her cheek.
Elder:
She sensed it before she heard it.
The silence of the crickets. The sudden death of the wind.
She turned to the eastern edge of the village, where the shadows were deepest.
Four men in Black Coatsappeared, like ink bleeding into water.
The Elder didn't flinch. She straightened her back, leaning on her staff.
Elder:
The leader of the group stepped forward. His face was masked, but his voice was a dry rattle.
Agent:
Elder:
Agent:
He drew a jagged, dark blade.
Agent:
At the Edge of the Assassins' Stronghold
MowjOthman
Then—they saw him.
A figure cloaked in black, his body wrapped in shadowed fabric that seemed to drink the starlight, stood motionless on a ridge, watching them.
Othman froze, his hand snapping to his hilt.
Othman:
Mowj stepped behind the Assassin, trembling as he felt the heavy, metallic mana radiating from the figure.
Mowj:
Othman drew his blade, the steel hissing against the scabbard. He stepped forward, placing himself between the boy and the threat.
Othman:
The Stranger tilted his head, amused. His voice was smooth, cultured, and utterly cold.
Stranger:
He glanced up at the stars, as if bored.
Then he vanished.
He reappeared in a blur of motion directly in front of them, a dark blade drawn, lunging at Othman's throat.
Mowj dropped to his knees, slamming his hands into the sand.
Mowj:"Root Bind!"
A protective ring of magical roots burst from the dry sand, wrapping around Othman to pull him back.
The Stranger sighed, side-stepping the trap with impossible grace.
He pointed his blade at Mowj.
Stranger:
Mowj trembled, sweat stinging his eyes.
Mowj:
Othman hesitated, watching the Stranger spin his blade lazily.
Othman:
He took a deep breath, gripping his hilt until his knuckles cracked.
Othman:
The Stranger struck again—like a storm wind—sending Othman flying with a single, heavy blow.
Mowj activated the sand spell again, causing the ground to shift into quicksand beneath the Stranger's feet.
The Assassin screamed, scrambling up from the sand.
Othman:JAMIH!
He lunged, blade flashing in a desperate arc—only to be deflected effortlessly.
The Stranger stood, unfazed, his boots hovering slightly above the sinking sand.
Stranger:
Jamihshhhk-shhhk of a whetstone against steel filling the room. He was sharpening his curved blade, his mind on the past.
A panicked guard burst in, breathless.
Guard:
Jamih's eyes snapped open. The whetstone stopped.
Jamih:
He rose instantly, grabbed his sword, and stormed toward the exit, his cloak billowing behind him like a dark cloud.
Outside in the corridor, Ledra
Jamih saw her preparing to join the fight, checking the durability of the Sand-Drake
Jamih:
She walked past him, not slowing down.
Ledra:
Jamih narrowed his eyes, reaching out to block her path.
Jamih:
Ledra didn't flinch. She met his gaze.
Ledra:
Jamih paused.
For a second, he didn't see the Ranger. He saw FuadLajm
He sighed, dropping his arm.
Jamih:
He glanced at her bandaged neck.
Jamih:
He kicked the door open.
Jamih:
The Stranger turned his bored gaze to the Assassin, Othman
Stranger:
Then he vanished.
No blur. No sound. Just displacement.
A flash of steel in the moonlight.
Othman's body went rigid. His head slid from his shoulders and hit the sand with a dull thud.
Blood soaked the pristine dunes.
Mowj
Mowj:
The Stranger stepped over the corpse, flicking blood from his blade. He turned to the boy.
Stranger:
Mowj's tears fell hot and fast. He braced himself, clutching the Green Gem, remembering his grandmother, his aunt, the smell of the Luminous Tree.
The Stranger lunged—
Jamih
Jamih:HAAAA!
His curved blade caught the Stranger's straight sword, the impact sending a shockwave through the sand. Jamih didn't give an inch. He shoved the Elite Agent back.
Mowj blinked through his tears—Jamih stood before him like a mountain of dark wool and steel.
Jamih:
Two Assassins rushed from the shadows, grabbing Mowj and pulling him toward the stronghold gates.
Ledra
Jamih stared at Othman's headless body. Then he looked at the Stranger. His voice was dangerously quiet.
Jamih:
He stepped forward, his aura flaring red.
Jamih:
The Stranger smirked beneath his hood.
Stranger:
Ledra aimed her bow, the tip glowing blue.
Ledra:
She fired a glowing arrow straight up into the sky.
Ledra:Arrow of the Midnight Vigil.
Silva's
The Stranger slowed—his Void body reacting sluggishly to the celestial light.
Stranger:
Jamih gripped his sword with both hands.
Jamih:AHHHHH!
His blade responded—ancient gems in the hilt glowing, kinetic power surging.
He unleashed a crimson wave of force.
The Stranger tried to dodge—but Ledra's light held him in place for a fraction of a second.
The blast struck hard. The Stranger's cloak shredded, revealing black armor underneath. He staggered back, coughing.
Jamih charged.
Jamih:SILA!
His blade crashed down. The Stranger parried, but his feet sank deep into the sand from the weight of the blow. Winds roared. Dust scattered.
Jamih stood over him, blades locked, face inches from the enemy.
Jamih:
The Stranger shoved Jamih back and leaped onto a high dune, clutching his side.
Stranger:
He looked at the stronghold, calculating the odds.
Stranger:
He vanished into the dunes, melding with the shadows.
Jamih didn't pursue. He dropped to his knees beside Othman's body.
The other Assassins gathered, silent.
Jamih retrieved the severed head. With gentle, steady hands, he placed it back against the neck. He pulled a needle and thread from his kit—usually used for closing his own wounds—and began to stitch the skin.
Jamih:
He finished the grim work, wiping the blood from Othman's face. He pressed his forehead to the dead man's cold brow.
Jamih:
Ledra watched, lowering her bow.
Jamih stood up, his hands stained. He turned to her.
Jamih:
Ledra:
Jamih:
He picked up Othman's body effortlessly.
Jamih:
The Assassins bowed their heads as their Commander walked past, carrying the weight of his leadership.
Ledra sat on the edge of the bed, removing the leather bandage Jamih had given her. The wound was ugly—pulsing black veins.
Mowj stared at her, his hands still shaking from the battle.
Mowj:
She nodded, wincing.
Ledra:
Mowj took a deep breath. His hands glowed with soft yellow light. He closed his eyes and placed them gently on her neck.
Mowj:"Lumina... Restore."
She sighed—a wave of cool relief washing over the burning pain. The black veins began to recede.
Mowj opened his eyes, wiping sweat from his brow.
A bowl of steamed rice, a strip of dried meat, and a cup of clean water sat on a tray beside him.
He jumped.
Mowj:
A handsome Assassin standing guard in the corner smiled grimly.
Qaws:
Mowj hesitated. He cast a small Detection Spell
Ledra smiled weakly.
Ledra:
Mowj ate—starving, shaken, shoveling the rice into his mouth.
The door opened. Jamih entered. He had washed the blood from his hands, but his eyes were tired.
Ledra lay resting. Mowj froze mid-bite.
Jamih:
Mowj swallowed hard, stammering.
Mowj:
Jamih nodded, looking at Ledra's sleeping face.
Jamih:
He turned to leave.
Mowj:
Jamih stopped.
Mowj:
Jamih didn't turn around.
Jamih:
Mowj:
Jamih stood silent for a long moment. Then he walked out, the door clicking shut.
Qaws rising his hands: wow wow wow.... Don't say that to the commander now ...
Ledra opened one eye, looking at Mowj.
Ledra:
Mowj whispered, looking at the empty tray.
Mowj:
Ledra closed her eyes again.
Ledra:
Ledra:
Mowj
Mowj:
He rushed to the Assassin guarding the door.
Mowj:
The Assassin, Tariq
Tariq:
Mowj:
Tariq looked at the boy's desperate eyes, saw the sweat on his brow, and nodded.
Tariq:
They entered the dimly lit quarters. JamihAurik
Mowj stepped forward, trembling slightly.
Mowj:
Jamih didn't look up.
Jamih:
Mowj:
Mowj reached into his tunic and pulled out the scroll, sealed with thick, amber-colored tree resin.
Mowj:
Jamih stopped tracing the map. He looked at the scroll, then at the boy.
Jamih:
He took it. The resin was still warm to the touch. He broke the seal with his thumb——and unrolled the parchment. The smell of pine and ancient earth filled the room, overpowering the scent of iron and sand.
He began to read.
"To Jamih, The Wolf of the Sands.If you are reading this, then the Pact of Silence is broken.I saw the Stranger. I know him. And I know you remember him, too. He is the shadow that haunted the Great War. The Crimson Catastrophe. He is Dais.You have spent years building walls of stone and steel, thinking you could keep the world out. But the rot is already inside.I have sent you my Heart—Mowj—to heal your wounded. But you must do something for me in return. For what is left of me, for my people, and for the sake of Silva.The Key is not a weapon. The Key is a child. The Boy with the blue eyes. The one the Black Order hunts.He is the last hope to defend my people and all nations in Orathia.If Dais completes the ritual, Silva will not just burn—it will cease to exist.You are the only one left with teeth sharp enough to tear out this cancer. Help the next generation... before the roots wither.— Shandris, The Keeper of the Luminous Tree"
Jamih lowered the letter. His hands were not shaking, but his knuckles were white as he gripped the parchment.
Jamih:
He looked at the map again—specifically at the Spire of Aurik
He stood up, shoving the letter into his breast pocket near his heart.
Jamih:
Mowj jumped.
Mowj:
Jamih:
Mowj:
Jamih:
Mowj straightened his spine.
Mowj:
Jamih didn't answer. He grabbed his curved sword and strapped it to his back.
He walked to the door and kicked it open, his voice echoing down the stone corridor.