Sandborn - Awakening of the Frozen Sand

We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are. - Anaïs Nin

The morning sun cast a brilliant glow over the desert as Azar and Araumir soared through the sky, their silhouettes cutting through the clear, azure expanse. Azar clung tightly to Araumir, feeling the wind rush past them as they journeyed toward the Sarabi tribe.

Suddenly, a distant roar shattered the tranquility of the sky, echoing across the desert sands. Azar's eyes widened as he scanned the horizon, spotting a dark shape rapidly approaching. It was a massive winged creature, its scales glinting in the sunlight, eyes glowing with malevolent intent.

"Araumir," Azar said, "it seems we're not the only ones roaming the sky today."

Araumir's gaze narrowed as he assessed the threat. "I'm putting you down, Master."

With a powerful stroke of his wings, Araumir descended rapidly toward the desert floor. The wind whipped around them, sand swirling in the wake of their descent. As they neared the ground, Araumir's wings flared wide, slowing their descent before he gently set Azar down on a large, flat rock.

"Stay here," Araumir instructed, his eyes locked on the approaching creature. "I'll handle this."

Azar nodded, his expression resolute. "Be careful."

Araumir launched back into the sky, his wings leaving a trail of flux in their wake. The winged beast, now fully visible, was a fearsome creature—its body covered in iridescent scales, with massive, leathery wings and a barbed tail that lashed menacingly. Its roar reverberated through the air, both a challenge and a warning.

"You're big, but you're not that dangerous," Araumir thought as he sensed the aura emitted by the beast. "There will be no problems."

Unafraid, Araumir met the creature head-on, his flux wings flaring with increased intensity. He tapped into the center of his power, the third chakra, focusing the flux into his palms, which began to glow with a brilliant black light. The beast lunged, jaws snapping, but Araumir was ready. With a swift, fluid motion, he unleashed a torrent of flux, forming a shield of pure shadow that blocked the creature's attack.

The beast roared in frustration, its eyes burning with rage. It circled around, preparing for another attack. Araumir, hovering steadily in the air, watched its movements with amusement, a smile curving his lips. It was refreshing to exercise a little; his arms felt stiff from carrying Azar for so long.

Focusing on the approaching beast, Araumir extended his arms wide open, inviting the creature to have a taste. At the sight of the surrendering pray, the winged beast had no second thoughts when tearing it apart with its strong jaws.

"Does it taste good," Araumir's voice sounded from the side. "The shadow i mean."

Hearing the voice, the raging beast stopped for a moment, realizing there was no tangible meat between its sharp teeth. Only the faint trail of the [Umbral Clone] was left at the position where Araumir's real body should've been.

"Do you want to engage in a contest to determine who's jaws are bigger?" Araumir asked politely before the beast whipped its tail in his direction.

Blocking the attack with its bare hands, Araumir was pushed back a few meters. The beast turned to bite him, its mouth wide open.

Araumir activated [Horripilation], altering his physical form and opening his mouth big enough to swallow the front half of the beast in one go. Teeth augmented by the umbra element cut the body of the creature like sharp blades, letting the other half fall on the desert floor, the inside liquids spilling on the sand.

After swallowing the front half of the beast directly into the [Abyss World] in his stomach, Araumir returned to his usual appearance.

Down below, Azar's patience was stretching thin. It was so damn hot, yet Araumir still had the mood to fool around.

Glad you found time to play now, Azar thought.

Araumir slowly descended beside Azar, grinning from ear to ear after winning the contest. From his back, two shadow folks emerged, running on their tiptoes, burnt by the heat of the sand as they collected the beast's remains.

"Are you so bored that you began playing with Hazards?" Azar asked, raising an eyebrow.

Araumir nodded in rapid succession. "Flying, cooking, and meditating is all I've done for the past two days. You have no idea how bored I am," he said, dropping his shoulders.

. . .

As the sun of the third day of the journey reigned supreme over the endless expanse of the desert, Azar and Araumir approached the territory of the Sarabi tribe. There were more trees and rocks covering the land below, indicating more wild animals resided there, making the territory a paradise for hunters.

"They have it better than the Calabi," Araumir remarked.

Azar nodded, scanning the desert for something other than scorpion muscle tissue. The potions he made lasted him two days, and now, his stomach was ready for solid food. Because of the physical training he started, his body craved for something with more proteins and nutrients, not just nuts and vegetables. Scorpion tissue was good, but eating it three times a day, everyday, wasn't healthy.

The Sarabi tribe's encampment lay nestled in a valley surrounded by hills, its tents and structures blending harmoniously with the natural landscape. From their vantage point atop a nearby dune, Azar and Araumir could see the tribe's bustling activities—hunters returning with their prey, women gathering water, and children playing near the protective walls of their settlement.

"We're too close," Araumir said, worried.

Azar nodded, his eyes scanning the scene below. "Let's gather some info. We'll play the role of weary travelers seeking aid," he said after spotting a group of Sarabi hunters in the distance.

The men were rugged and sunburned, their clothing practical and adorned with small tokens of their tribe's culture. They carried bows and spears, their movements confident and relaxed, and the atmosphere around them filled with joyous chatter as they carried two oryxes* on the poles on their shoulders.

Azar and Araumir exchanged a quick glance, their plan unspoken yet understood. Azar took the lead, his posture slightly slumped to convey fatigue. Araumir followed, his expression composed but watchful.

"Greetings, friends!" Azar called out as they neared the hunters. "We are travelers seeking directions and perhaps a bit of your hospitality."

The hunters paused, eyeing the newcomers warily. One of them, a tall man with a stern face and a braided beard, stepped forward. "Strangers pass through these parts daily. What brings you to Sarabi lands?"

Azar offered a weary smile, bowing his head slightly in respect. "We have journeyed far across the desert, searching for knowledge and refuge. Our travels have left us in need of guidance and rest."

The hunter's eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion lingering in his gaze. Azar met his stare directly, focusing his mental power through his eyes. As their gazes locked, Azar activated his mind-reading ability, a subtle flow of energy connecting their minds.

Azar maintained his calm facade while his mind delved into the hunter's memories. He sifted through layers of surface memories, catching glimpses of the hunter's past actions, the layout of the Sarabi encampment, and their current chief.

"What do you seek here, traveler?" the hunter asked after Azar retracted his awareness, his tone guarded.

"We seek directions to the Kingdom of Khasmi," Azar replied smoothly. "The Calabi pointed us east, but we're unsure how far east we should go."

The hunter's suspicion eased slightly, replaced by a hint of curiosity. "What business do you have in—"

His words remained unfinished as Azar's cold blade slit his throat.

'Kill them all,' Azar transmitted to Araumir.

Even thought startled by the sudden order, Araumir moved swiftly, without hesitation, crushing the collarbone and neck of the nearest hunter with the sheer strength of his palm blade. The second one carrying the pole with the oryx followed shortly after.

"No, the Sarabians are friends with Khasmi!" shouted one of the two remaining hunters, stimulating his flux to defend himself.

But it was too late. Azar's flying knife passed through his neck before piercing the heart of the last hunter.

"So have I learned," Azar replied to the now-dead man's words. "Loot them," he said to Araumir in a cold tone.

"Why have you decided to end their lives?" Araumir asked, unbothered by his master's tone as he complied.

"They had good game," Azar joked sadly, storing the oryxes in his ring. "Because I would have regretted letting them breathe for another second, Araumir," he replied.

"Should I burn their bodies?" Araumir asked. Leaving the corpses would attract wild animals and someone from the settlement would surely notice.

"No, they don't deserve it. Let the desert feed on them," Azar said, cleaning his knife with the clothes of the first man he killed.

"That bad?" Araumir asked in a composed tone. For something to anger his master to the point of insulting the bodies of the dead, it must have been truly horrifying.

"That bad," Azar replied. "Sink into the shadows. Let's pay a visit to the chief and see how we can use him."

A sinister smile hung on Araumir's lips as he placed a hand on his master's shoulder, and both sank deep into the shadow of a stone.

The Sarabi tribe's camp was an impressive sight, a blend of practicality and tradition. Tents made from durable fabric stretched over wooden frames were arranged in a circular formation around a central fire pit. The edges of the camp were fortified with wooden stakes and thorny bushes to deter beasts and intruders. Colorful banners fluttered in the breeze, each emblazoned with the tribe's emblem—a fierce scorpion, symbolizing their resilience and strength.

At the heart of the camp, larger and more ornate tents marked the quarters of the tribe's leaders. These tents were decorated with intricate patterns and guarded by warriors bearing the same scorpion tattoos on their necks. These tattoos were not just marks of their strength but also symbols of their loyalty to the chief and his family. The common tribesmen avoided those with scorpion tattoos, while the women hid from their sight.

Azar and Araumir moved rapidly through the shadows, taking in the sights and sounds of the world above. Children laughed and played, their mothers keeping a watchful eye. Hunters prepared their game and shared stories of their exploits, while the elderly offered prayers and wisdom. The air was filled with the scent of cooking fires and the earthy aroma of the desert.

The current leaders of the Sarabi tribe were known as the Scorpion Guard, a group of fierce warriors who had earned their positions through acts of bravery and cunning. Each member of the Scorpion Guard bore a tattoo of a scorpion on their neck, a mark of their dedication and the venomous sting they could deliver to their enemies. They were led by the acting chief, a formidable man named Zahabis.

Zahabis had seized the position of chief after killing the old leader and his family. With support from the Kingdom of Khasmi, no one could resist him. Originally, he was one of the hunters sent to the kingdom to sell hives and make connections.

However, after he and his group disappeared without a trace for two years, Zahabis returned to his tribe as a new man. His strength exceeded even the most experienced warriors, and he was followed by loyal men forming the Scorpion Guard.

Zahabis desired to become chief and lead the tribe to new heights. His fellow tribesmen, while acknowledging his strength and resourcefulness, judged him too inexperienced to lead the tribe. However, with the help of the Khasmi Kingdom and his Scorpion Guard, Zahabis either bought or killed those who didn't support him.

The common tribesmen accepted the change when money started to flow and their business in the kingdom bloomed. Now, they sold goods exclusively to the kingdom, and for good money. Smaller tribes in the region paid them a fee to have their goods sold in the kingdom as well. Everyone was happy, including Zahabis, who was slowly integrating the smaller tribes into his force.