A cold, gentle breeze swept across the desert night as a band of dark elves rode atop domesticated samanders.

  Standing atop his own with expert bance, Zark peered out across the du their prey.

  His on was the tip of a stiied off to an araid's leg. At his side, a sealed venom pouch.

  Dark elves didn't use it unless under dire circumstances, as it often ruihe food and materials. A st resort that would end the hunt but save lives.

  Other ons of simir sorts were held by his kin, taking on different shapes and curves.

  His kin had not yet discovered a way to craft bows. The closest they had to a le on was slings.

  "Keep your distance," Zark shouted as they circled their prey. "Its pincers are smaller than its tail! Don't let it touch you!"

  The tribe was fortunate and unfortunate decades ago, avoiding the worst of the desert’s noal predators. No man-sized spiders or monstrous scorpions, kin that could rip them apart, no venomous is whose bite could leave them paralyzed for days- if not kill them ht.

  This miracle allowed them a ce to rebuild, raise children, and grow. But the sacrifices for survival were still high.

  To keep experiend knowledge safe, the you were often put at the front to discover the dangers of the world.

  Few survived, but those who did became dangerous and ing.

  Zark's sharp gaze followed the scorpion as it rotated carefully, body coiled with tension and stinger shaking. Both the dark elves and scorpions viewed each other as prey, yet both were aware of the dahe other posed.

  Whenever a samander drifted too close or slid on the duhe scorpion would lus tail shed out like lightning, faster than the eye could track.

  Thankfully, the samanders had keen senses and survival instincts of their own. Nimbly, they'd twist their bodies away while the dark elf riding shifted their weight, bang against the motion or leaping to keep from being thrown off.

  It became a skill of its own and a sport for the dark elves. But in this moment, it was life or death.

  Nothing was going wrong so far.

  Rocks whipped through the air, pelting the scorpion's shell, distrag it and shifting its attention.

  Myra, his wife, closed her eyes, the red mist drifting from them. Her ability to keep her bance came unsciously as her hands outstretched with focus. Before her and her samander, a red mist rose from the ground and materialized into the jagged form of ominous, red-hued lightning.

  Zark couldn't help but shudder sometimes at her power. Everyone khe darkness ected to it, having wits effects multiple times now, but she trolled it with deadly precision.

  "AGH!"

  His head whipped around. One of the dark elves fell from his mount as the samander slid, thrashing wildly to avoid the oning stinger.

  Sensing the opportunity, the scorpion frenzied and lunged. Its tail struck the young elf’s chest, pierg it like a spear.

  The young elf cried out in pain, blood spewing from his mouth as he thrashed in agony.

  "Shit," Zark cursed and whistled sharply.

  The samaurned abruptly toward the scorpion’s rear, and he ripped the venomous pouch from his side. He was about to tear a hole in it when deadly, jagged energy from Myra seared past him, startling him.

  The energy sliced through the scorpion ly, yellow entrails spilling onto the sand.

  Zark leaped from his mount and ran over.

  It was too te. The young elf’s lifeless eyes stared into the night sky.

  Bitterly, Zark drove his on down into a gap in the scorpion’s shell. The upper half, still thrashing wildly, reag to tear apart the corpse, finally fell still.

  "We lost another?"

  Myra's voice echoed softly behind him as other dark elves dismounted. Some remained on their mounts, creating a perimeter and keeping a watchful eye.

  "He wouldn't listen and rode the leeward side," Zark sighed, shaking his head. "Too stupid and eager to prove himself..."

  Expressions dark and grim, the other dark elves immediately began dismantling what they could from the scorpion’s corpse.

  Steppio Zark, ing her arm around his, Myra’s shrouded eyes drifted down to the dark elf’s corpse. Whatever emotions Zark tried to glimpse were clouded by the red mist.

  The body’s skin darkened unnaturally, veins bulging and leaking, its eyes weeping blood. The venom was highly potent.

  "How much longer do you think we survive like this?" Myra asked somberly.

  Zark frowned. "As long as we must. Our lives have improved, despite how it may seem."

  Silence fell between them before she spoke quietly, "I'll speak to his mother."

  "Are you sure?" Zark asked, his gaze resting on the red mist resonating from her. "Last time, they didn’t take too kindly to your..."

  "If I do nothing, their beliefs will t," she replied firmly. "His parents o know, and I o do this."

  Zark nodded, his gaze returning to the dark elves at work, studying the process for any useful insights.

  "Zark!"

  An armed voice rang out from the western perimeter watch.

  Everyone’s heads snapped up. Zark and Myra quickly ran up the steep dune, Zark slipping slightly in the loose sand.

  Pointing with his curved stinger on, their gazes followed.

  A band of small creatures, their teeth and cws glinting uhe moonlight, shifted in the distance.

  They moved with supernatural speed, on par with a samander despite their small size. Atop their heads, still unknown to the dark elves, they wore livers turned i, red from the blood of their prey.

  Hardened exoskeletons were fashioned into armor, with stingers gripped like daggers and venom pouches simir to those of the dark elves.

  Little did the dark elves know, but the popuce of these creatures had grown expoially over the st fifty years.

  The inal goblin, birthed from Selena, had anded bands to scour the deserts.

  Rarely did they return, but when they did—they learned.

  Each time, they progressed deeper.

  And now, fifty years ter, these goblins were close to disc the dark elves.

  The source of their lifelong hatred and bloodlust.

  -----------------

  Soon after disseg the scorpion, the dark elves trailed the band of goblins. Uhe dark elves, who warily approached if they spotted a creature, the goblins dived in at the first sign of life.

  Their ferocity and aggression overwhelmed a simirly rge araid, but they still suffered losses and were bloodied.

  Seeing their opportunity, the dark elves attacked the goblins, sparing all but one. From this captive, they learned of the goblins’ deep-rooted hatred and their unscious awareness of the dark elves' existence—despite never having entered them before.

  This uled them, and out of caution, they killed the creature. From that moment on, they khey were being hunted.

  In the years that followed, more and more bands of goblins scoured the desert in search of them.

  Yet, despite nearly 428 more years passing, the goblins never came close to the Oasis.

  Through misdire, ambushes, and using the desert’s hostility to their advahe dark elves ensured urned alive. All goblin corpses were stabbed with venomous ons to guarantee no survivors.

  This, however, would soon ge through mistakes made.