A figure stood directly in their path.

  Thin. Motionless. Watching.

  His eyes glowed red beneath the veil of sand. His body was gaunt, almost skeletal, and in his hand he held a jagged weapon—its edges cruel and serrated. The desert wind clung to him like a cloak, grains of sand swirling around his limbs.

  Jabir's voice thundered through the caravan.

  "Everyone—stay alert! He's one of the Assassins' Guild!"

  In an instant, weapons were drawn. Blades, bows, and strange contraptions emerged from beneath cloaks and saddlebags.

  Jabir raised his own weapon—a bizarre device that launched sharp stone projectiles with a hiss of pressure.

  The boy stood frozen, overwhelmed. What's happening? Who is this man?

  Jabir aimed.

  The wind howled.

  *WOOOOOOHH

  The wind roared like a living beast.

  The boy could barely stand. Sand lashed against his skin. He shielded his eyes with trembling hands, struggling to see through the storm.

  "Damn it... I can't see anything..."

  He lifted his head, blinking through the dust.

  "Where's Jabir...?"

  He turned—no sign of Jawaher.

  No sign of the caravan.

  He spun in place, searching left and right.

  Nothing.

  Just him.

  Alone.

  Maybe this valley doesn't like me, he thought. Maybe it wants to get rid of me... or maybe... it's testing me.

  A grin crept across his face.

  He shouted into the wind, voice defiant.

  "You'll never defeat me!"

  A voice answered from behind.

  "What's wrong, boy? Got heatstroke?"

  The boy jumped. "Uncle Jabir! I was just... talking. I mean... I was..."

  Jabir chuckled. "Yes, yes. That's just how you are. But it seems the valley isn't just challenging you..."

  He looked around, his expression grim.

  "It's challenging me too."

  The boy realized they were alone.

  Just the two of them.

  Separated from the caravan.

  "How will we find the others?"

  Jabir waved a hand. "Don't worry. Jawaher knows the route well. They're armed, and they'll be fine. What we need to focus on... is getting out of this cursed valley."

  He started walking.

  The boy followed, then hesitated.

  "Uncle Jabir... can I ask you something?"

  Jabir groaned playfully. "You really are a troublesome kid..."

  He laughed, and the boy smiled.

  "I'm suddenly starving. It's strange... I feel like I need to eat something, but I don't know what."

  Jabir nodded. "That's the valley. It messes with your senses. But don't worry—we'll keep moving. Ask your questions. It'll help pass the time."

  The boy took a breath.

  "I've been wondering about the Kingdom of Aurik..."

  Jabir's eyes narrowed.

  "What about it?"

  "You said it was a long story. What happened to it?"

  Jabir paused.

  Then, in a low voice, he said:

  "Well... it all began when..."

  The Stranger's Bargain

  Elsewhere in the cursed valley, the caravan pressed forward. Jawaher led the way, her eyes scanning the horizon with urgency.

  "Damn it... we've lost Jabir and the boy," she muttered. "We have to keep moving. I trust Jabir to find his way."

  Suddenly, one of the guards called out.

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  "Jawaher... look ahead."

  Another caravan.

  "What...?"

  An old man stepped forward, his robes worn, his face lined with age and dust. He looked like the leader.

  "Greetings, desert friends," he said warmly. "What a rare joy to find someone still alive in this damned valley."

  Jawaher narrowed her eyes. "Where are you from? And where is your caravan headed?"

  The old man bowed slightly. "We're bound for the Kingdom of Aurik. But a fierce wind scattered us. I'm just an old man now—my sharp eyes and wisdom are fading..."

  He smiled, but something about him felt... off.

  "Perhaps we should join forces," he offered. "We share the same destination, after all."

  Jawaher shook her head. "No. We don't need to. And you're heading in the wrong direction."

  The old man sighed. "Ah... I suspected something was wrong."

  Then a whisper from one of her men.

  "Jawaher... the camels need food. We lost our supplies in the storm."

  "What? That's impossible!"

  The old man interrupted. "Well, we are merchants. We deal in trade."

  Jawaher frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "We'll give you food for your animals... if you guide us to the right path."

  She hesitated, thinking to herself.

  Damn it... he's a trader, no doubt. But I have no choice. Jabir and the others are counting on me.

  "Fine," she said. "I accept. But once we reach the kingdom's walls, we part ways."

  The old man nodded. "Agreed. Forgive my rudeness, miss. I'm Lajm, master of the wheat caravans. A pleasure to meet you."

  "I'm Jawaher. I manage the finances of our caravan."

  Lajm raised an eyebrow. "So you're not the leader?"

  "No. But I'm the right hand of Jabir. We're one of his golden lines."

  Lajm's eyes widened. "Jabir? The wealthy merchant? You're one of his caravans?"

  Jawaher cursed silently. I shouldn't have told him that...

  They continued walking together.

  "We lost him when he was leading the front," Jawaher said. "The sandstorm tore through everything."

  Lajm's voice dropped. "Was there a boy with him?"

  Jawaher blinked. "Yes... how did you know?"

  "Calm yourself, miss. But listen carefully. I thought I was hallucinating... but now I'm sure."

  "What are you talking about? Tell me!"

  Lajm's face darkened. "I saw a boy attack a man. He stole everything. He... bit his neck."

  Jawaher's breath caught. Her eyes filled with tears.

  "No... that's impossible..."

  Lajm turned to his caravan. They looked at her with quiet sorrow.

  He held something out.

  "Here, miss. This is all that remains of your leader."

  Jawaher took the weapon. Her hands trembled.

  "This... this is Jabir's weapon. It's his..."

  Her tears finally fell.

  Lajm bowed his head. "If we find that boy... we'll kill him. For Jabir. But be careful. He's deceptive."

  Jawaher wiped her eyes, her voice low and broken.

  "I can barely believe it... but this weapon is real. I'm sorry, boy... but if I find you... I won't hesitate."

  Echoes of the Lost King

  Jawaher gazed up at the sky, her voice barely a whisper.

  "I don't know what truly happened, Jabir... but if you've been killed, may you rest in peace. And if—by some miracle—you survive this cursed valley..."

  She tightened her grip on her bow, her arrows slung across her back. Her steps were steady, her heart resolved. She would reach the Kingdom of Aurik—and if the boy was truly dangerous, she was ready to strike.

  Meanwhile, in another corner of the valley...

  Jabir and the boy walked beneath the pale light of the moon, shadows stretching long across the sand. The valley was silent, save for the wind whispering through the rocks.

  Jabir spoke, his voice low.

  "The Kingdom of Aurik... has lost its king."

  The boy looked up. "What do you mean?"

  Jabir sighed. "We don't know if he was kidnapped... or assassinated. No one knows what really happened. Whether he's alive... or dead."

  The boy frowned. "Can't they just choose another king? Is he really that important?"

  Jabir nodded. "The king is the mind and shield of the kingdom. Without him, Aurik is nothing."

  "His name was Caesar. He grew old, yes—but he was brilliant. They say he was traveling through the desert with his escort when a sandstorm struck. The scouts later found the bodies of all his guards... but Caesar was gone. No trace. No clue."

  The boy's eyes widened. "Then... the man we found at the valley's edge—he was one of those scouts?"

  Jabir nodded. "Yes. But I never believed he simply lost his way. That's a foolish lie. He was one of the sharpest men I've ever met."

  "But the royal physicians believe Caesar may have been suffering from Lepsius. That disease..."

  The boy interrupted, his voice firm. "It causes the brain to die slowly. It leads to memory loss, right?"

  Jabir stopped walking, stunned. "That's... correct. How do you know that?"

  The boy didn't answer. He simply looked up at the stars, his eyes glistening.

  That old man... the kind one... the coins... the forgotten name... Aurik... Caesar...

  Tears streamed down his face.

  Jabir turned, alarmed. "What's wrong, boy? I didn't mean to frighten you."

  The boy wiped his cheeks. "It's nothing. I just... remembered something."

  Jabir leaned in. "What? Your name? Where you came from? Your parents?"

  The boy shook his head. "No... something else."

  Jabir exhaled. "You're a mysterious one, aren't you?"

  He glanced ahead. "We've been walking too slowly. Let's pick up the pace."

  *WOOOOOOHHH

  The Ambush in the Valley

  The boy had just spoken, his voice filled with wonder. "Jabir... this king..."

  But before Jabir could respond, a voice echoed through the valley.

  "Well, well... what a delightful coincidence. The master of the desert caravans himself. The man behind the golden lines—merchant Jabir."

  A figure emerged from the shadows. Thin, sharp-eyed, cloaked in sand and menace.

  Jabir's expression hardened. "Assassins...?"

  His hand shot to his belt—then froze.

  "Damn it... my weapon! It must've fallen during that cursed windstorm!"

  The assassin smirked. "That makes things easier. This valley has done half our work for us."

  Another voice joined in—cold, calculating.

  "Our mission is complete. Lajm delivered the target. We've reached our goal."

  Jabir's eyes flared. "What do you mean, 'target'? You snake-faced coward—what did you do to them?"

  The assassin scoffed. "Snake-faced? Please. I'm far more handsome than a cactus."

  He stepped forward, but the boy cut in, voice sharp and defiant.

  "Stay out of our way—or you'll regret it."

  The assassin laughed. "This child lacks manners. We'll teach him some... in our lovely den."

  Jabir's voice dropped to a growl. "If anything happens to them... I swear, I'll tear you apart."

  The assassin tilted his head. "You should worry about yourself, Jabir. Look around. You're outnumbered. Unarmed. And deep in our territory."

  The wind howled again, swirling dust between them.

  The boy clenched his fists.

  Jabir narrowed his eyes.

  The valley held its breath.

  The Awakening

  The assassins had surrounded Jabir and the boy, their weapons crude and jagged—stone daggers, shattered blades, rusted steel.

  The lead assassin stepped forward, voice dripping with mockery.

  "Well then... if you wish to come peacefully, I won't object."

  Jabir's stance was firm. "Do you really think we'll surrender so easily?"

  "Oh? And where's your weapon, merchant?"

  Jabir cursed under his breath. "Damn it... I've been careless. I should be protecting this boy. He trusted me. And now I've dragged him into a pit of danger..."

  "No time for inner monologues," the assassin snapped. "On your knees. We'll settle this quickly. You... and the boy."

  Jabir turned to the child.

  What's with his eyes...? That color... like the ocean at noon...

  Something stirred in Jabir's chest. A strange feeling. Unease... or awe.

  The boy spoke softly.

  "Leave us alone. Walk away."

  The assassin hesitated. "I don't know who you are, kid. Even if you're one of this valley's monsters, you won't stop us. We rule this land."

  The boy turned to Jabir. "I'll distract them. You need to run. Find Jawaher. They're walking into a trap."

  Jabir's eyes widened. "What are you saying? I won't leave you!"

  The boy's voice sharpened. "Do you have a weapon to protect me?"

  Jabir stammered. "I... no. But you—do you?"

  The assassin raised his hand. "Attack! Our leader wants them alive. A little blood won't hurt."

  The boy's eyes flared open—glowing blue.

  His jaw shifted.

  Fangs emerged.

  Jabir staggered back. "This boy... he's not human. Those fangs... he's a vampire!"

  The assassin froze. "What...? A vampire? In our desert?"

  The boy lunged.

  He moved like a storm—tearing through the assassins with inhuman speed, his fangs slicing through flesh and bone.

  "Go, Jabir!" he shouted.

  Jabir ran, stunned by the carnage behind him.

  "I'll come back for you, boy. I swear it!"

  The assassin, bloodied and gasping, cursed aloud.

  "Damn you, child! My men are dead. My mission failed. My leader will punish me for this!"

  The boy, face drenched in blood, stepped forward.

  "I didn't wound them... I killed them. And I'll finish you too."

  The assassin grinned, drawing a jagged blade.

  "So... you've regained your strength from my men's blood. I didn't expect it to be so... delicious."

  He raised his weapon.

  "Come on, vampire. Let's see if you can drink sand instead of blood."

  The boy lunged again—fangs bared.

  CRACK — his teeth sank into the assassin's neck.

  "AAARGHHH! Damn you, child! Take this!"

  SHHHHK — the assassin slashed the boy with his blade, a thin cut across his side.

  The boy staggered, breath shallow.

  "I won't let you... take him..."

  THUD — he collapsed.

  The assassin panted, wiping blood from his neck.

  "Finally... I got him. That sleeping poison I forged for my blade—it worked. I never thought a vampire would be the first to test it... but it's proven effective."

  He looked down at the unconscious boy.

  "I may have lost a wealthy merchant... but I've gained something far more valuable. A rare creature. I wonder what my commander will say... Can we sell him, perhaps?"

  He grinned.

  And the valley watched in silence.