The desert night stretched endlessly around Kairo, dark and silent, but it wasn't truly empty. The wind carried whispers—not from the obelisk this time, but from the sands themselves. Each grain seemed to hum with a memory, fragments of gods, mortals, and monsters long forgotten. Kairo's boots sank slightly with every step, the sand refusing to let him move too quickly.
He kept walking.
Each step was heavy with the truth he had just uncovered. Sensi. His father's power stolen. His family destroyed. Betrayal not from a faceless enemy, not from some distant clan, but from the one he had trusted above all. The thought twisted in his chest, burning hotter than any sun the desert could hold.
Kairo's Mark flared faintly with every surge of emotion. He could feel Aether boiling beneath his skin, screaming for release, but he didn't dare let it flow freely—not here. Not now.
Behind him, the desert shifted. Shadows moved unnaturally across the dunes, forming shapes too large to be natural. Creatures long buried by time stirred beneath the sands—ancient guardians awakened by the collapse of the Whispering Obelisk. Kairo didn't need to turn. He could feel their presence. Their hunger. Their anger.
He whispered, almost to himself, the single word he had been taught in secret, the word that controlled bursts of Aether:
"Astra."
The world slowed. Sand froze mid-air as creatures leapt from the dunes toward him. Their forms were grotesque—limbs bent at impossible angles, faces twisted, teeth jagged like broken gods' crowns. But Kairo moved faster. He struck without thinking, Aether coiling around his fists like living fire, shattering one beast into shards of black sand.
Another lunged. He ducked, rolled, and struck it across the back. Its body twisted unnaturally, almost fluid, before disintegrating.
The desert screamed, but Kairo didn't stop.
He had no desire to fight for anyone else tonight. Not his friends. Not Sensi. Not the obelisk. Only for the truth—and for the vengeance he now craved.
As he ran, memories of his family flashed vividly. The fire consuming their home. The shadows of men who stole everything from him. His father's dying eyes, the moment before he was taken. And then, always, Sensi's cold face in his mind—smiling, watching, calculating.
He had trained for this. He had endured the marks, endured the awakening, endured the pain that came with dual-god power coursing through him. But training meant nothing if the one who shaped him had betrayed him all along.
Hours—or maybe minutes—passed. Time itself seemed meaningless in the desert. Eventually, the terrain shifted. The dunes gave way to jagged cliffs, black stone jutting out like the spines of some colossal beast. He paused on the edge of a ridge, breathing hard, Aether pulsing in waves across his body.
Below, a hidden valley stretched out. Strange ruins dotted its floor, their architecture unlike anything Kairo had ever seen. Symbols of forgotten gods, some Greek, some Yoruba, some older still, carved into the stones. And in the center, faintly glowing in the dark, another relic.
Kairo clenched his fists. The desert had not let him wander aimlessly. The next step of his path was clear. He would retrieve this relic—and uncover every secret Sensi had buried. Every hidden truth about his father. Every stolen power.
But for the first time, Kairo allowed himself to acknowledge something he had long refused: he could no longer return to the gang, not yet. Their lives were tied to his ignorance, to their trust in a master who was a thief. If he revealed what he now knew too soon, chaos would follow. And yet, every fiber of him ached to warn them. To protect them.
The wind whispered around him again. He listened carefully, letting the sands guide him. The desert did not lie.
"You taught me everything," he muttered, voice low. "Now I will use it all… to find the truth."
A shadow moved across the valley below, large and silent. Not a creature, not yet. Something ancient. Something alive. Its presence made the air shimmer.
Kairo's eyes narrowed. His body coiled, Aether simmering on his skin, ready to ignite. He stepped forward, letting himself descend into the unknown.
This was no longer a mission. No longer a journey with friends. This was the beginning of a war.
And the first strike would be his alone.