Asher stood alone at the gate of Sinder City as dawn broke over the Fire Lands. The desert stretched endlessly before him—vast, desolate, its sand glowing in the new light. The wind carried the scent of scorched earth, dry and biting against his sun-bronzed skin. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair, the strands coarse from the ever-present dust. His ember-colored eyes—the same shade as every Sinder-born—flickered in the low light as they scanned the horizon, endlessly seeking.

  Behind him lay Sinder City, a small but sturdy settlement built as a refuge against the harshness of the desert. Towering fifty-foot walls, crafted from hardened sand and stone, surrounded the city, forming a formidable barrier against the dangers that lurked in the dunes. These walls, scorched and weathered by the relentless sun, had stood strong for decades, giving the people of Sinder City a sense of security despite their isolation.

  The buildings inside were humble, shaped from sunbaked stone and coated in hardened sand that gave them a rough, clay-like texture. Most were low and dome-shaped, their rounded forms designed to trap shade and shed heat under the brutal sun. Just over a hundred people called Sinder City home, their lives defined by the shared struggle to survive in a land that gave nothing easily.

  The city’s main gate stood tall at the entrance—two massive slabs of reforged metal, thinner than the surrounding walls but strong enough to hold. A pulley system from the nearest watchtower controlled their movement, slow but reliable. Asher was drawn to the spot often, his gaze drifting beyond the walls, always searching the endless dunes for something more.

  He raised his hand, letting a small flame curl lazily across his fingers. He’d done it so many times it was more habit than practice now—a quiet ritual, something to keep his hands busy and his mind still.

  But today, as he focused, a faint sound drifted to him on the morning breeze. It was soft, almost like a whisper, but unfamiliar. He paused, straining to hear. The sound faded, but something about it left a strange feeling in his head—like a warning he couldn’t place. He glanced around, but the landscape remained as empty and still as ever. Shaking his head, he tried to dismiss it, though the thought lingered in the back of his mind.

  Just as he turned his gaze back to the desert, something small whipped past his ear. He flinched, then turned to find his best friend, Dante, standing a few feet away with a handful of pebbles and a familiar grin. His black hair was forever windswept, defying any attempt at order, and his ember-colored eyes gleamed in the morning light as he flipped another pebble between his fingers—casual, confident, as always.

  “Hey, Asher!” Dante called, letting another pebble fly.

  This one struck Asher in the chest. He sighed and extinguished the flame on his fingers, brushing the dust from his shirt. “Are you done?”

  Dante glanced at the stones in his hand, adopting a serious expression. “I gathered these with care,” he said, holding one up between his fingers. “Searched for the smoothest ones, tested their weight. Honestly, I’ve grown attached. Feels wrong not to throw them.”

  Asher let out a heavy sigh, though a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. He turned toward the city center. “I’m going to see what they have at the shopping district,” he said, brushing past Dante.

  Dante fell in beside him. “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what? Get pelted with rocks? Must be part of my charm,” Asher replied dryly.

  Dante laughed. “No, I mean—why do you keep staring out into the desert? You know there’s nothing out there.”

  Asher paused, considering the question. “I don’t know… It just feels like there should be more. We live here in Sinder City with maybe a hundred people. It’s hard to believe we’re all that’s out there.”

  Dante tilted his head, pretending to think—then flicked a pebble that hit Asher square in the forehead.

  “Always chasing something that’s not there,” he said with a chuckle. “If there were other people, don’t you think we would’ve seen them by now?”

  Asher rubbed his forehead, smearing the dust. “I don’t know. But something out there… it feels like it has to mean something.”

  Before Dante could answer, a voice called out behind them.

  “Asher, Dante! What are you two up to?”

  Kaiya approached with her usual sure-footed stride, her light brown hair pulled into a tight braid. Her ember-colored eyes—sharp and focused—scanned the scene, settling on the pebbles in Dante’s hand with a knowing smirk.

  She was the third in their trio, as close as family, and always the most grounded of the three. Even at ease, there was strength in the way she moved—athletic, efficient, built for precision.

  “Hey, Kaiya,” Asher greeted her, a genuine smile breaking through.

  Dante, of course, tossed a pebble her way in a lazy underhanded arc. Kaiya tilted her head just enough for it to miss, a smirk forming as it sailed past.

  “Touched you’d include me in your rock assault,” she said, feigning sincerity.

  “Don’t worry, he’s been hitting me too,” Asher added with a half-smile. “We’re heading to the shopping district. Want to come?”

  Kaiya shook her head. “No thanks. I’m going to work on my energy control. Don’t want a repeat of last patrol.”

  Kaiya had earned respect across the city—not just for her strength, but for how far she pushed herself. She was steady, focused, and never backed down from a fight. Most of the time, she controlled her fire with precision. But when she tried to push harder—to add more force or range—something snapped. The energy surged beyond her control, too fast and too strong. After her last patrol, one hit had ended the fight... and left her unconscious.

  Dante nudged her with an elbow. “That attack was wild. Thought it was midday for a second with how bright everything got.”

  Kaiya sighed. “I’ve been trying to push my output—stronger hits, wider reach. But the second I go past normal… it’s like cracking a twig and starting a landslide. I don’t mean to overdo it—it just happens.”

  “Well, keep at it. Asher and I’ll find you breakfast,” Dante said, tossing one last pebble her way.

  Kaiya snatched it out of the air. “Thanks,” she said, smirking. “I’ll be at the arena.”

  Asher and Dante followed the sandy road into the heart of the shopping district. Most of the stalls stood empty, their awnings sagging in the still air. A few merchants lingered, but there was little left to sell—just dust-covered jars, brittle cloth, and tired glances.

  “We need to find another behemoth soon,” Dante said, his tone dropping to something rare for him—serious.

  “Yeah,” Asher murmured. “Sinder City can’t last much longer without fresh resources.”

  “I’ve got to head home—help my mom with breakfast,” Asher said. “Meet at the arena later?”

  “Sure. I’ll see if I can scrounge up something for Kaiya too.”

  Asher made his way back to his home, a modest structure of sunbaked stone coated in hardened sand. It had the same clay-like appearance as every other house in the city. Inside, the smell of food met him—simple and familiar. His mother, Solara, moved with practiced ease over the hearth, adjusting the flame with a flick of her fingers.

  “Hey, Asher,” she said warmly. “Can you set the table?”

  He grabbed the worn plates and placed them in their usual spots. The comfort of routine settled over him like a blanket. Mornings were always like this—simple, steady, unchanging.

  But today, something pulled at the back of his mind.

  His mother set a portion in front of him and sat down, giving him a thoughtful glance. “You’ve been spending a lot of time at the gate lately.”

  Asher hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess I have,” he said. “It just… feels like something should be out there.”

  His mother didn’t respond right away. If she had thoughts like that, she rarely shared them. “Your father used to say the same thing,” she said after a moment.

  Asher looked up. She didn’t talk about him often.

  “He was always convinced the dunes weren’t the end of everything,” she continued, stirring her food. “That’s why he joined the patrol. I think every time he went out, he hoped he’d find something no one else had.”

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  Asher was quiet. His memories of his father were hazy—just fragments of a man who once seemed larger than life. A leader. A protector. Someone who never stopped believing there was more than what they’d built.

  His mother sighed and brushed the thought aside. “Eat,” she said, nudging his bowl toward him. “You won’t find answers on an empty stomach.”

  They ate in comfortable silence, the soft clink of bowls and shifting chairs filling the space. When they finished, Asher stood and grabbed his water skin.

  “I’m meeting Dante and Kaiya at the arena,” he said.

  His mother gave him a knowing smile. “Just be careful, alright?”

  Asher smiled back, then stepped into the rising heat of the morning sun.

  The arena sat at the edge of the city—a broad, sandy expanse with worn stone benches circling its perimeter. Asher spotted Kaiya and Dante already there, finishing off a modest breakfast on one of the benches. He jogged over, grinning.

  “What’s on the agenda today?” he asked, dropping down beside them.

  Kaiya brushed crumbs from her lap. “We should start with warm-ups, then move into real training,” she said firmly.

  “Training’s boring,” Dante replied, grinning. “Let’s find the others and play Sinderball instead.”

  Sinderball was a city favorite—chaotic, fast-paced, and powered by flame. One team carried a controlled fireball down the field to ignite a target: a clay figure draped in an old shirt. The defenders' job was to extinguish the flame before it reached the mark. It was wild, loud, and, conveniently, a great excuse to skip drills.

  “Sinderball sounds pretty good to me,” Asher said, laughing.

  Kaiya crossed her arms. “How are we supposed to improve if all we do is play games?” She opened her mouth to continue arguing, but the alarm bells struck first—loud and urgent.

  The trio froze, then exchanged a glance—no jokes now, just instinct.

  The bells only rang for serious threats. Sandstorms, sometimes. Behemoths, when things got bad.

  They sprinted toward the patrol office, boots kicking up sand as they ran. By the time they arrived, most of the patrol was already there, the air thick with tension.

  Charles stood at the center of the patrol office, his broad frame and battle-worn hands a testament to years spent defending the city. His ember-colored eyes, shadowed by experience, swept over the gathered team with quiet authority. His hair—more red than most, streaked with white at the temples—set him apart in a city of dark-haired citizens, but it was the way he carried himself that demanded respect. Calm. Certain. Always in control.

  The patrol was small, but every role mattered. Marvin and Drew stood at the front, seasoned fighters ready to take the first hit. Dan and Paul were gatherers—not much in a fight, but essential for resource runs and supply salvage.

  Dante handled tracking. If something moved through sand, he could follow it.

  Kaiya served as the observer—watching behemoth behavior, tracking patterns, reading danger before it arrived.

  And Asher? He and Kaiya were the last line. When all else failed, they held the line—fire sharp and fast, meant to buy time or end the fight outright.

  Charles didn’t waste time on speeches. He was already assigning roles, voice steady and sure.

  “What’s going on?” Kaiya asked, her voice steady but tense.

  “A large behemoth. Coming fast,” Charles said. “Watchtowers spotted it a few minutes ago. Looks like an Ironclaw.”

  Dante blinked. “Straight at us?”

  Charles nodded. “Full charge.”

  He turned to Kaiya. “Give us the rundown.”

  She nodded, already shifting into her analytical tone. “Ironclaws are ambush predators. Average height fifteen feet, armored from head to claw in segmented plates. The scythe limbs are their primary offense—sharp enough to cleave rock. Fire works, but only if it's focused or gets between the joints. They’re fast in short bursts, but not built for long-distance charges.”

  She paused, frowning. “This one charging at the city… that’s not normal behavior.”

  Asher had only seen one before, and even then the patrol had to chase it down. It had never come straight at them.

  Charles’s expression darkened. “I don’t know. But the behemoths have been pushing closer to the walls for weeks. This is the first one to come at us head-on.”

  Asher’s thoughts caught on the whisper from earlier, rising uninvited like a splinter in his mind. He didn’t understand it—but whatever was coming, he knew this wouldn’t be a normal encounter.

  Charles’s voice cut through the growing tension. “All right, everyone to the north wall! We intercept it before it breaches—move!”

  The command snapped the group into motion. Sand-wrapped feet pounded across the packed streets as the patrol sprinted toward the northern edge of the city. The bells grew louder with every step, echoing off the stone like warning drums.

  “Marvin, Drew, Asher—on me!” Charles shouted as they approached. “Everyone else, hold position and wait for my signal!”

  The wall loomed ahead, fifty feet high, its outer ridges built for fast climbs during emergencies. Charles and the others veered toward the nearest ridge and began their ascent.

  Asher didn’t follow.

  He planted his feet, focused, and launched himself upward in short bursts—flame flaring beneath his feet in quick, controlled jets. He used his hands for balance as he rose, arms spread slightly to steady himself mid-air. He soared past the climbing team and landed cleanly near the top, feet skidding on sun-warmed stone as he steadied himself.

  Then he saw it.

  The Ironclaw.

  It was massive—easily twenty-five feet tall. Its segmented legs carved trenches in the sand as it advanced, each step deliberate. Armor plates overlapped across its body, dark green and sun-polished, rising and settling like scaled stone. The elongated head scanned the wall, and its scythe-like claws dragged wide grooves behind it in the sand.

  Then it stopped.

  Its compound eyes locked onto Asher.

  For a moment, it didn’t feel like a creature preparing to attack. It felt like recognition.

  And then the pain hit.

  A sharp stab lanced through Asher’s skull. He gasped, staggering, heat rising behind his eyes as his vision swam. The world narrowed, tunneled—

  “…find me…”

  The whisper faded, but the pain in Asher’s skull clung to him—sharp, relentless. His vision swam, but he didn’t back away. He crouched, not in retreat, but to brace for the Ironclaw’s next move.

  Below, the creature jerked violently. It shook its head, as if snapping out of a daze, and re-centered its stance.

  Then it struck.

  Its scythe-like claws slammed into the middle of the wall with a deep, shuddering crack—like brittle rock snapping under a crushing weight. The force alone sent tremors through the wall, but the claws did worse. They carved through the hardened stone with terrifying ease, slicing deep and dragging downward.

  Cracks shot through the wall from the impact site—some racing upward toward the top.

  One split the upper edge clean through.

  “Move!” Charles shouted, already diving for the edge.

  Asher pushed off, flame bursting beneath his feet to slow his fall—but his head still throbbed, his balance off. He hit the ground hard and tumbled through the sand, rolling to a stop in a messy sprawl. Not hurt—just rattled.

  Marvin and Drew scrambled down the ridges behind him. Charles followed an instant later, just before the wall gave way.

  A full thirty-foot span of the wall collapsed inward, carving a gaping hole into the northern barrier—like a new gate had been forced open by the creature’s claws. Stone and sand cascaded into the city, a billowing cloud rising as rubble slammed into the street below.

  The Ironclaw didn’t press the attack. It stood motionless for a breath, claws twitching. Then, without a sound, it turned and ran—vanishing into the dunes beyond the city.

  The dust hadn’t even settled when Kaiya’s voice cut through the haze.

  “Asher?”

  He rolled onto his side, blinking grit from his eyes. And just like that, the pain in Asher’s head vanished.

  He gasped, his breath coming in sharp bursts as the pressure lifted. His vision cleared, his muscles loosening as if whatever had been gripping him had simply… let go.

  “Asher?” Kaiya’s voice cut through the settling dust. She turned to him, eyes narrowing in concern. “Are you okay?”

  Asher blinked, still flexing his fingers as sensation returned to his limbs. “Yeah,” he said quickly, though the unsteadiness in his voice betrayed him.

  Dante arrived seconds later, skidding to a stop. His wide eyes flicked between the damaged wall, the patrol, and the dust cloud left in the behemoth’s wake.

  “What the hell just happened?” he demanded, breathless.

  Asher barely registered the words. The whisper was gone, but its presence lingered like an echo in his skull.

  Charles turned, his eyes scanning the patrol. Everyone was alive. Shaken, covered in dust and sweat—but alive.

  He let out a slow breath, the weight on his shoulders easing for just a moment.

  Then his posture shifted again—firm, steady. Back to business.

  He didn’t understand what just happened, but hesitation felt dangerous. Charles scanned the rubble. “We can’t wait for it to return. We move today.”

  No one argued.

  Kaiya stepped forward, eyes still fixed on the rubble. “That wasn’t normal.” Her voice was quieter now, thoughtful. “Ironclaws don’t charge. They ambush. This one broke every pattern we’ve seen.”

  Asher stared at the breach in the wall, jaw clenched, pulse thudding in his ears. Maybe the Ironclaw hadn’t locked eyes with him. Maybe the whisper was just the stress, or the heat, or something breaking loose in his head. But the pain had been real.

  And now it was gone—vanished like it had never been there at all.

  “Find me.”

  He swallowed hard, the memory of the voice twisting in his chest. Who was he supposed to find? Why him?

  Was he imagining things? Losing his mind?

  Maybe. But if there were answers—if any of this meant something—he wouldn’t find them staying inside Sinder City.

  He had to go after the behemoth.