13.
Faelwen
The boy never showed himself again. Only the rusted metal grate where he vanished remained, sealed tight. With no other choice, we pressed on, wandering deeper into the heart of the dead city, and soon learned the brutal truth of life beneath the desert sun.
Before the day could even stretch toward noon, the heat became unbearable. We were forced to retreat into one of the skeletal buildings, hollow and abandoned, the air inside barely cooler but shielded from the searing blaze outside. Our waterskins emptied far too quickly, each drop slipping through our fingers like sand, and the city… the city was nothing but silence and ruin.
No people.
No creatures.
Only the endless grit of sand gnawing at our skin, slipping into clothes, into boots, into places it had no right to be.
I never thought I could despise sand this much.
It clung to me, burrowed into my skin, itching until I wanted to tear of my clothes and scratch myself raw. One glance at the others told me I wasn’t the only one.
“I’ve heard wrapping a wet cloth over your face helps,” Ash says, voice hoarse, face flushed beneath layers of dust and fatigue. But still looking handsome, I grinned as butterflies rumbled in my stomach. “keeps the sand off… and helps with sunburn.”
Elora peeled her shirt off to her chest, tying it up with an exasperated grunt. “And waste water? We barely have enough to drink.”
“You shouldn’t do that,” Ash warned, cutting her sharp look. “But yes… we have just enough to dampen the cloth. Barely. And put your shirt down, the sun will flay you if you don’t.”
Elora rolled her eyes but pulled her shirt down again. I took a sip from my waterskin, the warm liquid barely easing the dryness clawing at my throat.
“Can we rest till nightfall?” I asked.
Ash shook his head, already pulling his cloak from his pack, fingers working quickly to tear it into strips. “We won’t last another day like this. By nightfall, if we haven’t found water…”
His words trailed off, grim and final. Everyone looked worried. Spook followed Ash’s lead, shredding cloth with steady hands. Soon, all of us were swathed in makeshift wrappings, rags dampened with precious water, pressed to our faces and necks. The relief was fleeting, the dampness evaporating almost as soon as it touched skin. But the itching became less.
Elora peered out a glassless window, squinting into the blinding glare. “There has to be another way into this underground place the boy disappeared in. Some shelter with food and water. That boy can’t be the only living thing here.”
I shrugged, adjusting the rag around my face. “If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll see him again. But right now… water’s our only concern.”
Everyone nodded, reluctant but resigned. We stepped back into the blinding light, the sun a merciless weight pressing down on our heads. Every fibre of my body screamed to shed my clothes, to cool my skin, but I knew better. The sun would burn my skin. I could already feel the burning sensation through my clothes, my uncovered eyes already stung with sand and heat, vision wavering at the edges.
It wasn’t long before we stumbled upon a well, crumbling and ancient, tucked in the corner of a forgotten square. Hope surged as Spook and Ash hauled the old rope up. Only to reveal a bucket filled with dry, lifeless sand.
I groaned, my knees buckling. “I can’t… I can’t keep going.”
Ash’s hand gripped mine, rough and firm, dragging me forward. His voice stripped of softness, a command layered with the edge of fear. “Stay in the shadows. Move. If we stop now… it’s over.”
Spook mirrored him, guiding Elora as her complaints cracked through her parched lips.
Don’t give up now, Wen. Artemis’ voice sounded just as tired as I felt. We kept walking, street after street, all identical, endless.
The city was a maze of sandblasted stone and deathly quiet. Even Ash’s resolve began to crack, his eyes narrowing with doubt as we rounded yet another corner facing a similar street with similar buildings.
“What now?” Spook muttered, pulling Elora into the shade of a ruin, Ash doing the same with me.
But before anyone could answer Spook gasped and Artemis growled.
The glint of steel.
A spear pressed close, its point hovering inches from Spook’s chest. The wielder loomed, swathed in beige rags, face hidden beneath folds of cloth. Another figure leaned casually against the wall beyond him, silent as a shadow.
I turned instinctively, two more emerged behind us, their spears drawn, eyes sharp beneath their hoods. Their lizard eyes. Just like the boy. The air shifted, tense and dangerous.
We raised our hands in unison, drained beyond resistance. Too thirsty. Too exhausted. Too raw to even think of fighting.
In that moment, surrender wasn’t cowardice, it was survival.
In silence, they marched us to another grated hatch not far from where we were caught, our wrists bound tight behind our backs, the sting of missing weapons heavy in my chest. Artemis held at spear point walking in between us. I felt naked without them. One of our captors stepped forward, drawing a rune-etched key from his belt. The metal grate groaned as ancient hinges protested, the sound scraping against the quiet like a blade drawn across stone, before the hatch fell open with a heavy clang onto the sand-scattered floor.
Beneath, a ladder vanished into nothing but shadow.
Before I could process it, they hoisted us up like sacks of grain. Yes, even Ash and Spook, much to their combined horror and descended the ladder without so much as faltering, as though carrying bound prisoners into dark places was routine for them.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“This humiliation stays between us,” Spook grumbled, dangling indignantly over a broad shoulder.
Ash let out a low hum of agreement, his pride bruised more than his body.
Now they know how I feel whenever I’m carried, Artemis grumbled in my mind. Elora and I bit back laughter, the corners of our mouths twitching despite the tension simmering beneath our skin.
At the bottom, we were put down and were allowed to walk again. My shoulders throbbed where the rough bindings bit into my wrists, keeping my arms in an unpleasant position, but I kept pace my feet dragging slightly, heavy from exhaustion.
We were in a tunnel now, carved deep into the bedrock, winding forward like the veins of the world itself. Unlike the sewer passages beneath Westray, these tunnels weren’t used as sewers. Mage-lights bloomed softly along the stone walls, spheres of warm, flickering flow suspended in hovering sconces, casting long shadows that stretched like reaching fingers.
The walk was short by distance but stretched thin by weariness. My hands were going numb from the bindings, my feet blistered and aching from the endless march in the city above earlier.
Ahead, a vast stone doorway blocked the tunnel. Double doors, etched with the elegant forms of dragons, their heads held proud, eyes carved to gaze down upon those who approached. The craftmanship was exquisite, the dragons appearing to breathe in the flickering light, scales rippling with movement frozen in stone.
One of our captors stepped aside, pressing the rune-key into a discreet slot carved into the rock. The doors grinded apart with a deep, thunderous groan that echoed like a creature waking from centuries of slumber.
What lied beyond stole the breath from my lungs.
It looked like a giant cave with several tunnels continuing to other areas. An ancient, hidden city carved deep into the desert stone stretched like a forgotten labyrinth beneath the seemingly abandoned city above us. Soft amber light spilled from hanging lanterns, casting long, flickering shadows along winding staircases and arched doorways. The walls and ceilings were smoothed by time, flowing like waves, their surfaces etched with delicate patterns. Tier upon tier of carved dwellings and hallways descended into the hearth of the cavern. Figures in long hooded robes or dressed in rags like our captors, moved quietly along the pathways, their presence ghost-like against the warm glow of the sandstone. Stairs curved downward into the depths, worn smooth by generations of footsteps, while narrow bridges and rope railings offered passage across open spaces. The cavern’s immense ceiling swirled with natural grooves, making it both vast and sheltering. Though abandoned in parts, faint signs of life remained: flickering lamps, scattered pottery, echoes of footsteps or laughter of children. It felt ancient yet alive, sacred yet quietly decaying, as if the city itself remembered every secret whispered in its stone veins.
How old do you think this place is? I asked Artemis through our mental bond.
Old… older than stories, Wen, his voice answered, tinged with awe. I’m surprised so many still live…
My brow furrowed. So many what? But he was already retreating. I scowled in my mind, prepared to press the matter, but a shove from behind urged us down the staircase.
The steps spiralled deeper, slick and worn beneath our boots, until we emerged into a chamber that, at first glance, resembled a throne room, but the weight of reverence in the air revealed its true purpose.
A chapel.
At the end, raised upon a dais, loomed a towering statue. Stone eyes inset with gold gleamed faintly in the low light. Recognition prickled at the back of my mind.
Where have I seen this before? I wondered aloud in my mind to Artemis.
Caradsher?n, he supplied simply. Right that crumbling, forgotten shrine overrun by roots and vines… but here, the statue stood proud. Unyielding.
Spook’s gaze flicked between the statue and Artemis, clearly remembering the statue just like me. His expression unreadable.
In front of the dais stood a woman, robed in flowing layers of beige and blue.
Her face was bare and breathtaking in its strangeness. Part elvish, part dragon. Silver-green scales shimmered across one side of her face, delicate like fish scales glinting beneath the water. White hair cascaded down past slender shoulders, framing high cheekbones and unsettlingly sharp features. Small, curved horns protruded from behind her head, and her eyes, slitted, reptilian, blue as deep glacial ice, raked over us, measuring. Was she maybe an ally of Syltharian?
When she spoke, her voice was low and guttural, the syllables curling with an ancient cadence that scraped at my memory. Familiar, yet just beyond my grasp.
Draconic.
Spook and Elora exchanged baffled glances, but I recognized the tongue. It was used in the casting of magic spells. I couldn’t speak it fluently, neither could Ash. Our eyes met and we both looked uncertain.
She’s asking why such an odd collection of humanoids dares set foot in the Vortharyn Wastes, Artemis informed me, sounding entirely too casual.
My eyebrows shot up. You understand Draconic? I pressed, suspicion blooming in my chest, but before I could corner him, Elora stepped forward, graceful as ever, responding in lilting Elvish.
“I’m sorry, my lady. I don’t speak the tongue you use.”
Artemis… I sent, warning curling through my thoughts. What else haven’t you told me?
The dragon-woman switched seamlessly to Elvish, her voice calm, expression unreadable.
“I asked what brings such a curious group to the Wastes.”
You ought to listen to the lady, Wen. Now’s not the time for this, Artemis cut in sharply, his mental tone laced with command. The rare steel beneath his words startled me. He never spoke to me like that. A tight ache gripped my chest. Spook’s gaze found mine, silently asking if I was alright. I managed a tense nod, swallowing my questions for now.
Elora turned to us, waiting. I offered a nod of encouragement. Truth was safer here than lies.
“We seek the Runes of Creation,” Elora explained. “They are the only thing preventing the Fiend from devouring this world.”
My mind hummed with half-focus, still tangled in Artemis’ evasion.
You never keep secrets from me, I shot at him, jaw clenched.
There are things you’re not ready to know yet, Wen, he replied, quieter now but no less firm. Listen. Please.
His plea disarmed me, unease prickling down my spine, but I forced myself to pay attention as Elora detailed the battle raging across the Ancestral Region, the ships sailing from distant shores to join the war, the scouts tracking armies skirting the eastern ranges toward the Primordial Lands, the Fae Lands.
Ash tensed beside me, concern flickering in his eyes. I tugged slightly on the golden thread binding us. He glanced back, his smile small but warm. When Elora finished, the chamber fell into hushed silence once more.
The dragon-woman’s eyes settled on Artemis. A silent exchange passed between them, unreadable and heavy, stirring that ache in my chest again.
What are you hiding from me?
At last, the woman’s shoulders softened, her voice tempered with regret.
“I wish I could simply hand you the Runestone and aid your cause,” she said, motioning for our captors to cut our bindings. I rubbed at my wrists as she continued, “But the one entrusted to guard the Rune has turned against us.”
The words sank like stones in my stomach.
“She lost her children to human invaders long ago,” the woman explained, sorrow threading her words.
“We refused to support her vengeance.”
Elora’s voice sharpened with concern.
“What does this mean for the Runestone?”
“She’s out there,” the dragon-woman answered, her eyes shadowed. “Hunting. Destroying. She haunts the city above as well, laying it to ruin. Other human settlements have fallen beneath her wrath.”
Elora pressed, “When was she last seen?”
“A nearby outcrop, not far from here,” the woman replied grimly. “But I warn you… face her, and she will destroy you. There is no reasoning with her anymore. She has lost her mind a long time ago.”
“We have no choice,” Elora breathed, weariness and resolve mingling. The woman considered us, her gaze lingering on Artemis.
“You may stand a chance,” she conceded. “You have… strong companions.”
I frowned, side-eying Artemis, sceptical. Of all of us, I still suspected he’d cower behind me or Ash in the moment things ignited.
“Come,” the woman offered. “Rest, eat, recover.”
She led us through the winding cavern, down a narrower passage into a quiet room with cushions against the cool stone walls. We sank into them gratefully. We thanked the woman and she left without another word.
Are we alright, Buddy? I asked Artemis, my voice quieter now, wary.
He padded over, pressing his head into my lap, golden eyes soft with apology. Of course we are, Wen. I’m sorry for being… harsh. I’ll tell you everything soon. Promise.
I exhaled, threading my fingers through the fur behind his ears, grounding myself in the warmth of him. Soon, food and water arrived. We ate, drank, and wiped the grit of the desert from our faces, but the unease coiled deep, waiting. And the same question wandered through our minds. How were going to get this Runestone?
