Sandborn - Awakening of the Frozen Sand

[Suspicion is a heavy armor and with its weight, it impedes more than it protects.] — Robert Burns

"What do you mean by her memories have been altered?" Khaleb asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Azar raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. "I hope you don’t expect me to explain the process in detail."

The room fell silent. Khaleb, unsure of how to respond, kept his gaze fixed on Azar. He was one of the few people who could unsettle Khaleb so completely—his intentions always shrouded in mystery, his emotions unreadable.

"Alright then," Azar said, breaking the tension with a smile. "Thank you very much for the water, my dear. You can leave now. But please, keep this conversation to yourself. Changes are coming to this tribe, and I don’t want to hear any rumors." He gave Abine a reassuring nod, motioning for her to go.

"Araumir, send a shadow folk to watch over her," Azar ordered after the girl exited the room.

At Azar's words, a distorted figure detached itself from Araumir’s shadow, gliding silently across the floor. It slithered along the ground, merging seamlessly with Abine’s shadow as she walked down the hallway. Kaira caught sight of the movement and instinctively moved closer to her brother, gripping his shoulder for comfort.

"What was that?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"You're better off not knowing," Azar replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Some things are best left to the imagination. The human mind can be... quite inventive."

Kaira shivered but said nothing.

Azar turned back to Khaleb, his expression serious once more. "Now, where were we on the subject of cleansing the tribe? Ah, yes. Khaleb, have your most trusted men guard the well and oasis. Look for anything unusual. Araumir, send a few shadow folks to surveil these water sources as well. We don’t know what a crazy mind might conceive."

"You think they’ll poison our water?" Khaleb asked, astonished by the suggestion.

"I don’t think anything," Azar replied calmly. "I simply take contingency measures. And, Khaleb—no one is to enter or leave the settlement. Understand?"

"...Yes. I’ll go give the orders," Khaleb said, his voice tight.

"Good," Azar said, gesturing towards the door.

Khaleb exchanged a glance with Kaira before leaving.

Once he was gone, Araumir spoke up. "I’ll send the rest of my shadows to monitor the settlement. Perhaps we can identify the one responsible for the poisoning."

"Do that," Azar agreed. "Even without the healer’s confirmation, I suspect this is the work of an elder or someone with influence in the tribe."

"So, you’re ruling out the possibility of an intruder?" Araumir asked.

"Araumir, we’ve interacted with three tribes besides Mirha-" Azar began.

"Three tribes?" Kaira interrupted, disbelief coloring her voice. She hadn’t heard anything about this.

"No one updated you?" Azar asked, feigning concern. Kaira lowered her head, feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "As I was saying, we’ve interacted with three tribes, and none of them have individuals strong enough to infiltrate Mirha unnoticed. They could have activated a spy to assassinate Mohul, but that spy would have to be a member of Mirha, right? From what little I know, the tribes aren’t friendly enough to harbor outsiders."

"You’re partially wrong," Kaira replied. "There are some friendly relations between tribes. It’s not unusual for tribes bound by marriage to accept guests from each other. But we don’t currently have any visitors."

"Perfect," Azar said. "Does anyone from the Mirha tribe, besides Khaleb, have a chance of becoming the new chief if your father dies?"

"If both my father and brother are gone, the tribe’s leadership would fall to me and the council," Kaira explained. "My grandfather could also return as chief if he chooses."

"So, trying to kill Mohul to seize power is out of the question. They’d have to kill your whole family to take control," Azar noted. "Speaking of your grandfather, where is he? I haven’t seen him since we returned."

"He’s taking care of Faira, protected by our personal guards," Kaira said. "Even though he’s no longer chief, my grandfather still holds deep connections with two other tribes and has significant influence within our council."

"Then why target Mohul?" Azar mused. "Who could want him dead, and for what reason?"

Kaira shrugged, at a loss.

"What are his strengths? What could make him a target?" Azar pressed.

"He’s a man of the people," Kaira said after a moment. "My grandfather controls much of the council’s decisions, but my father has the people’s support. The Mirha tribe would follow him anywhere, no matter the risks."

"Hmm, I see," Azar muttered, glancing at the unconscious Mohul. "That could be enough of a reason for external forces to want him dead. I retract my earlier theory. Anyone could be the culprit, even the most insignificant tribesman. They wouldn’t need extensive training, just the luck to obtain a mind-altering technique. And that complicates things."

"Why do you think anyone could do this?" Araumir asked. "I’m inclined to believe the culprit is from the upper echelons of the tribe. What would motivate a low-ranking member to take such a risk? If the culprit is a Bellator Class flux-weaver, they might have been promised power or protection by the force hiring them. But if they’re only at the Mit'chalel stage, what could they possibly hope to gain?"

"I can’t prove you wrong, my friend," Azar conceded. "But we must consider that the strength of a technique depends on the user’s power. The one who manipulated Abine only altered two fragments of her memory. If the user was a Bellator Class flux-weaver, they might have been able to even manipulate the memories of other Bellator Class practitioners."

"That would certainly be an undesirable outcome," Araumir said, his tone serious.

"Indeed, but I don’t believe that’s the case," Azar replied, his eyes growing big as he slowly approached Mohul’s bed. "Consider this from the perspective of a tribesman. Given the current level of knowledge and understanding within the tribes, do you think anyone with a strange and potent power wouldn’t be tempted to fulfill their deepest desires? Power corrupts even the purest hearts—you know this better then anyone. So tell me, could a Bellator Class practitioner resist the temptation to use the power granted by the almighty System to take over the tribe or achieve what was previously beyond their reach?"

Araumir nodded, recognizing the truth in Azar's words. If someone powerful possessed both the Ebony Venom and a mind-altering technique, they wouldn't stay silent for long—not without immense control and discipline, qualities Araumir had observed to be lacking in the tribes.

The only plausible explanation was that there were limitations or strict orders from an unknown backer orchestrating the plan, and the culprit behind the poisonings was merely a pawn.

"Azar Syed, you scare me," Kaira admitted, watching Azar touch her father's head with an unsettling mix of anticipation and thrill that twisted his expression into something almost inhuman.

"You don’t need to be afraid of him," Araumir said calmly, well-acquainted with his master’s nature. "He’s just excited about unraveling the mystery of the human behavior."

"Exactly," Azar said, his expression returning to normal. "Since I was one of the targets, it’s clear the culprit knows little about me. They didn’t even use the Ebony Venom, which suggests they only had enough for a single dose."

"So what do we do now?" Kaira asked, her concern evident. "There’s a risk that more people could be poisoned, right? That’s why you sent my brother to secure the water sources."

"Yes, what’s our next move?" Tariq asked, entering the room with Faira by his side.

"Grandfather," Kaira said, welcoming the old man.

"We force the perpetrator to make mistakes by scaring the life out of them," Azar suggested. "How are you feeling, Tariq? Do you need a bed prepared next to your son?" he joked.

"No, no, no," Tariq replied, shaking his head with a wry smile. "Azar Syed need not worry—these old bones of mine haven’t been poisoned yet."

Azar nodded. "I’m glad to hear that. Can you gather everyone in one place? We need to communicate something important."

"Yes, I can do that," Tariq agreed. "What are you planning?"

"You’ll see," Azar said with a wide grin.

. . .

The people of Mirha gathered in the heart of the settlement, their faces etched with anxiety and dread. The usual hum of lively conversation was replaced by a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional murmur or whispered prayer for their chief, Mohul. Many feared that Tariq had gathered them to announce Mohul's death.

Mothers clutched their children tightly, and elders exchanged uneasy glances, their brows furrowed with worry.

As the crowd continued to grow, a palpable sense of unease settled over them like a shroud. The air was thick with fear as each person grappled with the possibility of losing their beloved leader. Whispers of Mohul’s worsening condition and imminent death spread like wildfire through the tribe.

Without Mohul, many feared they would be left vulnerable, their future uncertain. Tariq was old, and Khaleb too young and inexperienced. Without Mohul to lead the caravans and negotiate deals, the tribe’s finances would likely decline even further.

Tariq stood at the center of the gathering, on a small platform built from sturdy wood specifically for tribal announcements. His normally strong and composed demeanor now betrayed a hint of the same fear that gripped the rest of the tribe. His eyes scanned the crowd, taking in the worried faces of his people. He could see the lines of anxiety etched deep into their features, the uncertainty looming over them like a dark cloud.

Surrounding Tariq were Kaira, Khaleb, Lamuda, and four other warriors for protection, while Azar and Araumir stood nearby, waiting for the moment to speak.

"Are your shadows in place?" Azar asked Araumir, who nodded in return, his shadow folks weaving through the crowd, scanning the people's expressions and the wavelengths of their auras.

The silence was oppressive as Tariq finally began to speak. His voice, though steady, carried the weight of the news he bore. "People of Mirha," he began, his tone grave, "I have both good and bad news to share with you today. First, the bad news: With the help of Azar Syed, we have confirmed that our beloved chief, Mohul, was poisoned. He did not fall ill as we had previously believed."

"Poisoned?"

"Who could do such a thing? The Calabi must’ve infiltrated the tribe."

"Who would dare poison the chief? It must be one of us—no outside forces could do it."

"What are you saying? Do you think one of us did it?"

"Maybe his brother?"

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Mothers held their children tighter, while men exchanged nervous glances. The fear that had been bubbling beneath the surface now threatened to boil over. Tariq raised his hands, quieting the murmurs and drawing the people's attention back to him.

"There is no need for us to fear as Azar Syed not only has identified the poison as the Ebony Venom, but also found an antidote. Our healer Jarah is concocting it as we speak, so please be patient," he announced, his voice strong enough to reach even the people at the back of the crowd. "These being said, i have to tell you that someone attempted to poison Azar Syed as well."

"What?"

"Even Azar Syed? This person has no limits."

"Maybe even we are not safe."

"Yes, what if they try to kill us all? If even the chief could be poisoned, we can die in our sleep."

"Everyone, listen to me," Tariq shouted. "I will now let Azar Syed convey a piece of information to you, so i expect yo to be respectful and listen in silence."

Azar stepped forward, gazing over the crowd of people while his senses and [Spiritual Perception] were active to their full capacity.

"People of Mirha, there is a traitor among us," he spoke loud and clear. "A traitor who's life will become a hell from this point on as i do not plan to kill him, but to enslave him, cripple his meridians so he can not use flux any longer, and force him work for the rest of his days."