The morning air over the canyon rim held none of the desert’s blistering edge — only a dry stillness, like the world holding its breath. Far below, the jagged gulch twisted into a maze of paths and shadow-choked camps. The bandit stronghold, nestled into the spine of the gorge, pulsed with quiet tension.

  But it wasn’t quiet for long.

  ?

  At the upper ridge, a battered dwarven cargo cart clattered forward, pulled by two sand-lizards and flanked by cloaked riders. The guards at the checkpoint hardly blinked — these runs were common. The twisted deals between the dwarves and their bandit “partners” happened daily.

  That was the point.

  One guard stepped forward. “What’s the load?”

  “Replacement tech cores. For the supply runners at Gate 3,” the driver rasped — a dwarven accent, dry and rough. “Brought direct from Ridge Quarter.”

  The guard sniffed, glanced at the seal burned onto the side.

  Satisfied.

  “Let ‘em through.”

  The cart rolled past.

  Inside, Neyxa exhaled.

  “Worked,” she whispered.

  “Of course it worked,” Thessia muttered beside her, pressed into a panel of false crates. “My seal’s flawless.”

  “I still say we should’ve just walked in and burned the place down,” Rell muttered, crouched silently in the tight corner near the back.

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  “No,” Neyxa said. “Too many innocents. Servants. Prisoners. This way, we slip in quiet, find Ko Mala, then…” She let it hang in the air.

  “Then we break everything,” Rell finished.

  The cart trundled into the lower hold of the camp and halted beside a stockpile depot.

  “Now,” Neyxa breathed.

  They moved fast.

  ?

  Meanwhile, at the upper fork — far from the depot — a brilliant pulse of magic lit the sky in amber-gold.

  Thessia’s distraction.

  She’d slipped away earlier, scaling the canyon wall and setting off a timed overload on one of the external supply conduits. Sparks flew. Dust flared. Alarms rang.

  Guards scrambled.

  Perfect.

  ?

  Back in the canyon’s center, Rell darted from shadow to shadow, boots skimming stone like whispers. Neyxa trailed a few meters behind — covering blind spots, silent as her cursed flame.

  They could feel him.

  Ko Mala’s spirit — faint, but not broken. Nearby.

  Rell stopped at a half-sunken bunker entrance, palm out.

  “…Here.”

  He kicked it open with a burst of force.

  Inside — torches flickered. Chains rattled.

  Ko Mala knelt in the center of a glyph-scarred room, arms shackled to twin pillars, head down but eyes glowing faintly with defiance. His fur was matted, bloodied. His breathing slow.

  Three bandits surrounded him, one mid-swing with a shock-rod.

  The door blasted inward.

  Rell appeared — quiet, deadly, and filled with rage.

  The nearest guard turned. “Wait, who—?”

  He didn’t finish.

  Rell’s palm hit his chest like a hammer through glass. The man flew back, spine-first into the wall, unconscious.

  Neyxa shot two knives through the other guards’ knees — they dropped screaming.

  Ko Mala looked up.

  “Took… you long enough,” he grunted.

  “You look like shit,” Rell replied, cutting the chains.

  Ko Mala stood, wobbling only once. His muscles burned. But his eyes were fierce.

  “Let’s end this.”

  ?

  They barely cleared the lower exit before the klaxons screamed across the gorge.

  Too late for stealth now.

  Floodlights turned. Bandits ran.

  Above them, wind kicked up hard as Thessia dove in with the glider, landing hard and sliding next to them.

  “You get him?” she asked, hopping out.

  Ko Mala cracked his neck. “They got me. Now I got them.”

  Then—

  A swirl of sand swept the path ahead.

  Bar’zhul stepped into view, scarf billowing, golden tattoos pulsing with desert energy. He looked over the three of them like a disappointed teacher.

  “So… you came.”

  Rell stepped forward.

  Bar’zhul raised a single brow.

  “This’ll be fun.”