The desert screamed. Not a polite wail but a whole orchestra of agony: sand grinding like broken glass, whipping the wind itself thin and sharp until it sounded almost human, and a distant thunder of collapsing earth that made the ribs of the dunes cough up avalanches. The sky had the color of a bruised violet pressed against the orange teeth of a sun that refused to set properly. Heat shimmered in wavering sheets, but the storm coming in carried an honest, cold intent: grit for lungs, iron for teeth, and a hunger that ate tunnels from beneath their feet.Varohn knelt. For a moment the world narrowed to the uneven plane of his palm on the sand and the dull, relentless throb of the burning on his back. His robes were singed black where the flames had found him — a map of failure traced in soot. He turned his head slowly, and there she was: a thing of ember and light crouched low beside him, bleeding heat into the air.“The best I can do is take away the burning and the pain it brings

The desert went silent. Not a whisper, not a gust of wind, not even the rasp of sand shifting underfoot. The battlefield froze as the dessert itself held its breath. Only one sound cut through the heavy stillness—the sharp, crackling growl of Zhaedor’s flames colliding with the retreating sandstorm.Zhaedor stood at the heart of it, unshaken, swallowing everything else with his presence. Slowly—almost leisurely—he raised his right hand, spreading his palm wide above his head as the tips of his fingers began glowing faintly, flickering each flame like a candle struggling against the dark.Then, with a subtle flick of his wrist, he dragged his hand downwards.The flames at his fingertips went out with a breathy whoosh—and with them, so did the storm’s fury. The tornado faltered as its violent spin stuttered. Five jagged lines of sand split away from the core, dragging across the sky.And in that fracture—Zhaedor’s fire erupted.Red infernos burst from the gaps, molten sheets melting

The world doesn’t revolve around you alone, Zhaedor.” Kaelen stepped forward, pressing a finger down toward the molten ground, narrowing both eyes, as the heat kept rising up in shimmering waves around his boots.“You’re not the only one in pain.” His chest rose and fell. “And you’re not the only one suffering.”Zhaedor’s teeth ground together, clenching his jaw so tight the veins along his temple stood out. “What do you know about me?” he growled.Kaelen inhaled, dropping his voice into a calm but edged with razor sharpness. “Whatever it is you think you’re doing right now? It’s nothing more than just a childish rebellion.”“Childish, you say?”Kaelen tilted his head slightly, almost weary. “I can’t understand your pain if you don’t tell me what’s hurting you. I’m not a magician. I don’t read thoughts. But I see through your actions—and right now, yours scream desperation.”“Enough!”The roar erupted with a force that rattled the sand beneath them. Zhaedor stomped his foot down hard,