Sandborn - Awakening of the Frozen Sand

[What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.] - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Led to the center of the settlement, close to where Surumadur resided, Azar was pleasantly surprised by the conditions of the residence and the two guards assigned to his service. Though he didn't plan to leave the house for anything beyond basic necessities, he appreciated the comfort and security provided.

Sitting cross-legged on the carpet in the center of the room, Azar focused on his breathing to relax his mind and enter a meditative state. The morning sun was in full glory, and the Calabi people bustled with work and dealt with the aftermath of the fight. However, inside the room, it was quiet, allowing Azar to concentrate fully.

His body ached from the long journey and the injury he had sustained when Araumir grabbed him. Unbeknownst to anyone else, Azar couldn't lift his arm more than forty-five degrees from his body due to the pain. He knew he needed to recover swiftly, as the challenges ahead would demand his full strength.

In his hand, Azar held a small vial filled with a brown liquid that he prepared to gulp down once his mind was ready to focus inwardly without the distraction of foreign thoughts. The Revitalizing Potion, crafted by him earlier, was renowned among the flux-weavers of the first and second class for its potent healing properties. He uncorked the vial, and the scent of mint and herbs filled the air, promising restoration.

With a steady hand, Azar raised the vial to his lips and drank deeply. The potion was cool and smooth, sliding down his throat and spreading warmth through his chest. He felt the elixir’s energy begin to work immediately, a tingling sensation spreading from his stomach to the tips of his fingers and toes. The aches and fatigue that had weighed him down began to melt away.

Azar set the empty vial aside and closed his eyes again, focusing on his breathing. He drew in a long, deep breath, feeling the warm desert air fill his lungs, then exhaled slowly, releasing the tension in his body. He repeated this cycle, allowing the potion’s flux to synchronize with his own energy.

As he settled into his meditation, the world around him faded into the background. He envisioned his flux as a river of golden light flowing through his body, carrying the healing energies of the potion to every muscle and bone. With each breath, the light grew brighter, banishing the shadows of pain and exhaustion. Using his healthy hand and the focus of his mental power, Azar guided the muscle back into place, controlling the potion's energy at that spot.

Minutes stretched into hours as Azar remained in his meditative state. His mind drifted through the currents of his energy, guiding the revitalizing forces to where they were needed most. The warmth of the potion melded with his own inner fire, rekindling his strength and vitality.

When he opened his eyes and returned his awareness to the outside world, Azar realized he was drenched in sweat, the foul odor of his body causing even Araumir, who stood back against the wall to watch over him, to exit the room.

"Now, I need a bath," Azar muttered to himself. "And some food."

. . .

As the sun climbed steadily in the sky, casting a brilliant wash of golden light over the desert, Azar and Araumir stood at the edge of the Calabi tribe’s encampment. The air was alive with the chatter of warriors and the distant hum of their practice. Both cultivators were dressed in attire suited for desert travel—light, breathable fabrics adorned with the symbols of Calabi. Their faces were shielded by veils against the sun's harsh rays.

Araumir, his flux wings pulsing with hues of black and deep blue, stood taller than most, his presence exuding an aura of calm confidence. His wings, attracting the attention of many, stretched wide and caught the warm desert breeze, eager for flight. Beside him, Azar emptied the contents of another water pouch, an aftereffect of the Revitalizing Potion.

"We depart east, Araumir," Azar's voice, deep and resonant, carried a hint of excitement. "Let's see what the Sarabians can offer."

Surumadur nodded, his eyes reflecting joy and a touch of anticipation.

"If I may ask, do you plan to recruit the Sarabi tribe as well?" he inquired.

"That depends on them," Azar replied. "You said they are stronger than you, Calabi. If I can control them, I will gladly take them by my side. But if I can't, their resources are just as good. In any case, they will pay the price of planning to destroy the Mirha tribe."

Surumadur lowered his head, embarrassed. It was he who led the Calabi to attack Mirha, yet they, as henchmen, had been forgiven. If enslaving him and Hamsha could be called forgiveness.

"May the spirits of the sands guide your path," Surumadur replied solemnly, a customary blessing among the Calabi tribe before embarking on a significant journey.

With a shared understanding, Araumir extended his hands, wrapping them around Azar's torso. "Hold on tight," he instructed, his voice a reassuring echo over the desert breeze.

Azar grasped Araumir's forearm firmly, feeling the latent power thrumming beneath his companion's flux wings. With a surge of energy and a mighty thrust, Araumir leaped into the air, his wings slicing through the atmosphere with grace and precision. Azar's breath caught as they ascended swiftly, the desert floor falling away beneath them.

The Calabi tribe's camp dwindled to a speck in the distance, swallowed by the vast expanse of golden sands and rocky outcrops. Araumir adjusted their course effortlessly, flying around a jagged peak and skimming over the crest of a rolling dune. The wind rushed past them, whipping Azar's veil and tunic in a frenzy of motion.

As they flew, Azar marveled at the panorama unfolding below—the undulating dunes stretching like waves frozen in time, the occasional wells treasured like emeralds amidst the sea of sand. The sun blazed overhead, painting the desert in hues of orange and crimson as it began its descent toward the western horizon.

I can't believe how much I missed this desert, Azar thought. I believed I was attached to what it was then, but it was the sand that called me all along.

Hours passed in a blur of motion and silence, broken only by the rhythmic beat of Araumir's wings and the occasional exchange of glances between the two flux-weavers. Azar felt a sense of liberation soaring high above the desert, his mind unburdened and his spirit soaring alongside Araumir.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the desert landscape, Araumir began a gradual descent toward a secluded alcove nestled between two towering cliffs. The sky above them transformed into a canvas of deepening blues and purples, speckled with the first twinkling stars of evening.

"We should rest here for the night," Araumir announced, his voice carrying a note of finality as they touched down upon the soft, cool sands. Azar released his grip, his feet sinking slightly into the welcoming embrace of the desert floor.

Together, they set about preparing for the night—a modest campfire, on which Araumir cooked meat from the gigantic scorpion, and a perimeter secured by a runic concealment barrier drawn by Azar against the nocturnal creatures of the desert. Around them, the desert settled into a hushed serenity, the only sounds the crackle of the fire and the soft murmur of the wind.

As they shared a simple meal beneath the starlit sky, Azar felt a profound sense of gratitude for the journey that lay ahead and the companionship of a trustworthy friend. He was feeling better; the potion had done its job. Tomorrow, they would continue their journey deeper into the heart of the desert, guided by the whispers of the winds and the promise of settling scores with the Sarabians.

After dinner, Araumir sat cross-legged in meditation, absorbing the natural flux while his sharp senses covered the entire area. Before Azar lay a small collection of three Flux Orbs, each one pulsating with a faint, ethereal light. Tonight, he intended to harness their power and advance his cultivation as much as possible.

With a deep breath, Azar centered himself, closing his eyes and allowing the world around him to fade away. He focused on the rhythmic sound of his own breathing, drawing in the cool night air and exhaling slowly. In his mind’s eye, he watched the flow of flux that surrounded him, a colorful river of power, invisible to the untrained eye, flowing through the desert and beyond.

He reached out with his consciousness, sensing the flux in the air, feeling it dance and swirl around him. Slowly, using his cultivation method, he began to draw it in, guiding it through his energetic channels three times to purify it before leading it to his stomach and heart centers. The energy responded to his will, flowing into him like a warm, soothing current. He could feel it merging with his own internal reserves, growing continuously.

Having cultivated the flux previous to his departure from Zenthara, Azar's energetic centers and meridians were trained and expanded enough to meet the requirements for the Aikyam Class. Now, however, after not being used for two thousand years, the meridians could be said to have atrophied and the energetic centers to become rigid and depleted.

Azar turned his attention to the Flux Orbs. He picked up the first orb, feeling its smooth, cool surface against his palm. The light within it pulsed gently, a heartbeat of captured energy. He focused on the orb, willing it to release its power. The light grew brighter, and he felt a surge of energy flow from the orb into his hand, spreading up his arm and into his chest.

One by one, he absorbed the energy from the three orbs. Each time, he felt a rush of power, a wave of vitality that filled him and pushed the limits of his flux centers, causing him pain. The orbs dimmed and grew smaller as their energy transferred into him, their purpose fulfilled.

As the last orb faded away, Azar resumed his normal cultivation. He could feel the combined energy of the flux currents and the Flux Orbs swirling within him, a potent mix that filled every part of his being. He guided this energy with his mind, directing it towards his third chakra, the main deposit of the flux-weavers power.

It would take a while for the flux of both the natural environment and the orbs to fully merge. After all, the flux inside the Flux Orbs had a different energetic information infused in it. Rewriting that information with the one of the new master took time.

That's why flux-weavers remaining on the path never abused this method of absorbing Flux Orbs. When too much foreign information existed in the flux centers of the body, all seven chakras could become corrupted. Instead of the foreign information being rewritten, the foreign energy could rewrite the host's own.

Azar visualized his third chakra as a glowing sphere of light within his abdomen. The energy flowed into it, causing it to shine brighter and brighter. He could feel the flux center of power stretching, straining under the influx of energy. He focused his will, pushing further, willing for the third chakra to expand.

The strain grew more intense, and after a moment, it felt as if he might be overwhelmed by the pain. The rigid flux center was forced to expand, causing it to form cracks in its protective barrier. But Azar’s resolve was unyielding. With a final, concentrated effort, he forced the flux inside. There was a flash of light in his mind, a sensation of release in the body, and Azar felt himself ascend to the 5th Star of the Mit'chalel Class.

The flux within him settled, no longer straining against the confines of his old limits. But the cracked barrier of his third chakra was still causing him pain. Not wasting another second, Azar drank another vial of potion, using the energy to soften the barrier and head the cracks.

After hours of inner work, Azar finally felt a sense of balance and power, but not a new, empty level that had to be filled with flux. On the opposite, he felt full. His body filled with too much energy.

The barriers confining my flux center will slowly soften and become more flexible now that flux is coursing through them. However, i am not sure how slow will this process be, Azar thought. I have to find a way to speed it up.