The light thinned into a dim, bruised hue as Kirana led her people deeper into the Ebon Forest. Fatigue clung to everyone: the stumbling villagers, the wounded slung over makeshift stretchers, even the soldiers who had once marched with pride.
The only steady sound was the brittle snap of dead branches underfoot.
"We can't keep this pace," Lyra said, stepping up beside Kirana. Her voice was low, her breathing tight. "The children and the injured won't last another hour if we don't find somewhere safe."
Kirana nodded, though tension still gripped her jaw. Lyra was right. Pushing forward without shelter was a quiet death sentence.
"Fine. We'll scout ahead," Kirana said. She pointed toward a denser cluster of trees. "There. Let's try our luck."
The forest swallowed them as they pressed on, until they stumbled into a small plateau ringed by natural cliffs. A cave sat carved into the stone, large enough to hide most of their group.
Kirana halted. "This works. We'll rest here."
Lyra didn't waste a breath. "Perimeter setup! I want traps, alarms, anything that slows an Edena patrol!"
Everyone moved quickly, almost desperately. Soldiers built crude barricades from branches and stones. Villagers tended to the wounded, whispering comfort into trembling ears. The cave filled with the soft hum of exhaustion.
Kirana stood guard at the entrance, eyes scanning the treeline. Relief flickered through her chest, but it was thin—this was a pause, not salvation.
That night, while others collapsed into uneasy dreams, Kirana kept watch beside a flickering fire. The forest was too quiet. Too still.
Lyra approached from behind. "You should sleep."
Kirana shook her head. "Can't. If the Edena catch us here, we're finished."
Lyra opened her mouth to argue, but froze.
Footsteps.
Soft, quick, deliberate.
Kirana rose instantly, bow in hand. She motioned for Lyra to hold still.
The sound drew closer. A shadow moved between the trees.
A man stepped into the firelight. His clothes were tattered, his face streaked with dirt, eyes sunken from exhaustion. He lifted his empty hands.
"I'm not armed," he rasped.
Kirana kept her bow trained on him. "Name. Now."
"Arven," he said. "I come from a village beyond the forest. I saw your group earlier... and I figured you were running from the Edena."
Lyra narrowed her eyes. "And? Why are you here?"
Arven swallowed hard. "Because I can help. There's a place deeper in—small, hidden, untouched by Edena patrols. If you let me guide you, I can take you there."
Kirana's gaze hardened. "You expect us to trust a stranger waltzing out of the woods?"
"I know how it looks," Arven said. "But I've lost everything too. I just don't want anyone else to end up like my village."
Kirana studied him for several long seconds. No deception in his eyes—only the same weary desperation worn by her people.
She finally lowered her bow. "You lead us wrong, and I'll put an arrow through your skull. Clear?"
Arven nodded quickly. "Crystal."
—
Dawn found them already on the move. Arven guided them through narrow animal trails and hidden paths swallowed by the undergrowth, places the Edena would never bother searching.
The trek was brutal, but they pressed on.
Hours later, the forest opened into a hidden valley tucked between towering mountains. A small village stood in the center, surrounded by lush fields and a ribbon of shining river.
It looked untouched. Untarnished. Impossible.
"This is it," Arven said softly. "Edena patrols don't come this far. You can rest here. Start again."
Kirana stood on the ridge, staring down at the peaceful valley. Relief washed over her—but so did the weight of responsibility.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
She turned to her people, who looked at the valley with hope blossoming across their tired faces.
"We'll stay here," Kirana said. "But remember... this isn't the end. It's only a moment to breathe. Our fight isn't over."
They nodded, and the group made their way down the slope toward their new refuge.
Kirana lingered for a moment, watching the valley below.
A new beginning—fragile, but real.
Eldar Village
Morning came with the familiar scent of dew rising from the leaves, but the air in Eldar felt heavier than usual—quiet, tense. Kirana, Lyra, and Arven sat inside a small hut, listening to a traveling trader who had arrived carrying troubling news.
"The Desert Forces aren't just stories," the trader said, his voice rough from years under burning suns. His silver-streaked hair framed a face carved by sand and wind. "They're real, and they've become a nightmare to the Edena. Fast. Precise. Gone before reinforcements even know what happened."
Kirana leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Do you know their numbers? Their capabilities?"
"A few hundred, maybe less," he replied. "But they know the desert better than most know their own homes. No tech like the Edena, but their weapons—bows, spears, traps—they're deadly. And then there's the one they call the Desert Ninja."
Lyra raised a brow. "Desert Ninja? Sounds a bit theatrical."
The trader shook his head. "Not when you hear what he's done. A ghost in human form. Slips through Edena lines, kills commanders, disappears before their tech even locks on. Even Valarion's elites fear his name."
Arven crossed his arms, trying for skepticism but failing to mask his discomfort. "Conveniently mysterious."
Kirana lifted a hand to silence him. "It doesn't matter if the stories are embellished. What matters is they're hurting the Edena. If they've hit mineral convoys, they're more than rumors."
The trader nodded. "Two raids last week. Heavy losses. And those minerals? Edena war fuel."
Kirana sat back, thoughtful. "If they already oppose the Edena, they could become allies—but we need to find them first."
"That won't be easy," the old man warned. "They never stay in one place. Always moving, shifting like sand. They choose when to appear."
The conversation ended with more questions than answers.
—
That night, Kirana and Lyra sat on a grassy hill overlooking Eldar. Stars glittered above, but Kirana's eyes were fixed on the shadowy horizon where the desert stretched unseen.
"You're sure about this?" Lyra asked softly.
Kirana nodded. "We're running out of options. Valarion won't stop. The Desert Forces might be the only ones bold enough to stand against him."
"They might not trust us," Lyra said. "Desert clans aren't fond of outsiders. You know that."
"It's a risk we have to take," Kirana replied. "If they're fighting the Edena without advanced tech, that means skill and resolve. We need both."
Lyra hesitated. "Kirana... we've already lost so much. I don't want to lose anyone else. I don't want to lose you."
Kirana finally turned to her, fire burning in her gaze. "I won't fall. Not while I still have a promise to keep—to my mother, to Raka, to everyone the Edena robbed from us. Valarion isn't invincible. Someone has to remind him of that."
—
Portrait of the Desert Forces
In the heart of the endless sands, the Desert Forces moved like ghosts.
They lived in hidden oases and cave networks untouched by Edena maps. Their bases were never permanent—only tents and structures that could vanish within hours.
Their soldiers wore sand-colored cloaks that blurred them into the dunes. Their weapons were simple, efficient, and merciless: poison-tipped arrows, curved spears, traps buried in the sand that crippled Edena vehicles.
They used camels for swift, silent movement, and falcons for scouting. No tech. No energy weapons. Only mastery of the land.
Their greatest weapon wasn't steel or poison—it was strategy.
They ambushed patrols, raided convoys, and lured Edena squads into terrain-crafted kill zones. They fought like the desert itself: unpredictable, relentless, impossible to pin down.
And within their ranks, one figure rose above all others.
A name spoken in whispers. A legend that even Edena commanders dreaded.
The Desert Ninja.
Rarely seen. Never caught.
A phantom beneath the burning sun.