Riche found the bike tracks etched into the sand and followed them carefully, each step measured. They had to be careful of the sandy winds, which could distort the tracks.
The trail cut a thin scar through the dunes, faint but persistent. They hoped to follow the Rajhu to their base, where Midia would possibly be kept.
They traveled in silence at first. Unable to bring up anything to discuss.
Mihel moved with restraint, every motion deliberate and painful, as his body still screamed from the fight before.
Strips of cloth bound wounds on his chest, darkened where blood had seeped through. It would need proper care later but he grit his teeth through the pain.
Riche walked beside him, outwardly steady and focused, inwardly tangled in thoughts he hadn't yet given shape to.
The desert offered its own cruelty.
Flies circled endlessly. Sand crept into their boots, clung to their ankles, scratching at their skin, swallowed each step just enough to drain strength.
Since they had set out after the Sun setting, they had escaped the harsh heat. Instead they faced a biting cold and a sandy wind that flowed through the dunes, blowing in their eyes.
From the route of the tracks and where the Engine had broken down, Mihel had already calculated their course. Southwest. Nearly straight.
They had rations for two days if they were careful. Weapons, water, and little else. They could afford to carry only necessary items.
Riche had tried the riders' bikes earlier, but the machines were too damaged, and even intact, he wouldn't have known how to wake them, much less, ride it.
After a long stretch of quiet, Mihel spoke.
"Riche… how are you holding up?"
Riche blinked in surprise. "You're the one bleeding. How are you? Your chest still doesn't look alright."
Mihel shook his head slightly. "Not that." He hesitated, unsure how to ask. "You killed someone today. How does it feel?"
Riche slowed, then stopped for a moment. He searched himself, expecting something sharp. something crushing. But no. He didn't find any guilt.
"I don't think it's hit me yet," he said finally. "I was thinking about Midia. About you. I haven't focused on it yet." His gaze dropped to his hands. "But yeah… these hands ended a life." His squinted his eyes, sadness filling it.
Mihel nodded, eyes still fixed ahead.
"We'll have to learn to live with it," he said quietly. "Hesitation against people like them gets you killed."
A pause. Then a breath, heavy and controlled.
"If we stop to mourn every enemy, we won't survive long enough to save anyone."
The wind passed between them, cold and indifferent.
They kept walking.
After nearly an hour, they crested a dune.
Tracks scarred its slope, and as they stepped over the ridge, a violent gust slammed into them.
Mihel's dark hair whipped across his face as he looked down.
Metal glinted in the sand below. Black Shards. Twisted fragments. Broken pieces half-buried by drifting dunes.
"That's from the bikes," Riche said noticing the pieces, as he jogged down the slope. "One of them must have broken down here. But why abandon…"
Suddenly a thought struck Mihel like a blade. His breathing quickened as he frantically pieced together events from the Rajhu attack.
'Four riders. One took the hostage. No…'
'Two attacked from the flanks.'
His mind snapped back to the chaos. The sand thrown into his eyes. Then according to Riche, one blew a horn and the others retreated.
'The rider who scattered sand… had he retreated at the horn?'
If he hadn't gone with the other. If he stayed behind.
Mihel's blood ran cold.
'Idiot,' he cursed himself. 'How did I miss this?'
'If the buried stripped bodies were found by him, then he would exact revenge…on the one's at the compartment.'
Riche turned, catching Mihel's expression. "You have a strange look on your face. What's on your mind?"
"Riche," Mihel said tightly, "how many Rajhu did you see at the start of the attack?"
"Four," Riche replied after thinking for a second. Then paused. "Why?"
"Did we confirm all four were dealt with?"
Silence.
Riche's face drained of colour. "You're saying one's still back there." His jaw tightened.
"Damn it. Vinelyn's injured. Halise can't hold a fight alone. Should we go back to confirm their safety?"
Mihel ran a hand through his hair, thoughts spiralling.
'We walked away from the Engine too soon. Damn it.'
And whoever was left behind might not be finished hurting them yet.
"Let's hope the horn pulled him away too," Mihel said quietly. "Our priority is Midia. We can't afford distractions."
They pressed on through the endless sea of sand, each step heavy with unspoken worry for the possible danger they had left behind at the Engine.
After a long stretch of tracking, the dunes ahead rose unnaturally high.
A man-made wall.
At first glance it looked like nothing more than wind-shaped sand, but its curve was too deliberate, too precise. And it rose unnaturally high.
They climbed carefully, fingers digging into the grain, and peered over.
They were on the wall of a circular enclosure of compacted sand, and below it encasing a settlement.
At its heart stood a cluster of cube-shaped buildings, arranged with unsettling symmetry.
One large structure dominated the centre, while four smaller ones sat at its corners, evenly spaced, as if measured and placed by design rather than chance.
Mihel's stomach tightened.
'This is no Rajhu camp,' he thought. 'This was built with a plan.'
The structures gleamed faintly under the starlight. Polished metal. Panelled surfaces. Nothing like the crude shelters he had imagined a desert tribe would use.
'Too advanced,' he realized. 'Far too advanced.'
Riche swept his gaze across the compound. No riders. No movement. Only silence.
"Tracks end here," he murmured, then glanced at Mihel. "So this is it?" His tone sharpened suddenly. "Doesn't feel right. A desert tribe doesn't build like this."
Mihel nodded. "Which means they might not be just a tribe."
They were facing a wall between two of the smaller buildings on which they could see the number 2 etched into it.
Riche drew his twin blades, their edges catching the dim light. "Time?"
Mihel checked his dial. "3:40 astra. If nothing had gone wrong, if we weren't attacked, we would have reached the Exousia branch by six."
Riche exhaled slowly. "Alright, let's make this quick. We need to get back to the Engine."
Together, they slid down the inner slope of the sand wall, dropping into the shadows of the Rajhu hideout.
The moment their boots left sand and touched pavement, a sound reached them.
A raspy and ragged groan. It was muffled but loud enough for them to hear.
Both froze.
They tilted their heads, straining, letting the silence breathe. After a few heartbeats, the source became clear.
To their left. The building to the left of Wall Two.
They moved at once, quick and quiet, circling the structure to find an entrance.
Mihel's unease deepened with every step. No guards. No sentries. No watchfires.
Too clean. A fake emptiness.
'A complex this large doesn't sleep unguarded,' he thought. 'Unless it wants to be found.'
The door to the smaller building stood wide open.
Thick wood reinforced with thin veins of gold, swung back as if in invitation.
Mihel slowed to a stop at the door.
Riche, already a few steps ahead, turned back. "What's wrong?" he whispered. "I can hear them. Someone's definitely inside."
Mihel scanned the darkness beyond the doorway. He couldn't sense a trap. Not directly. Yet the feeling persisted, a pressure at the back of his skull.
"This place is wrong," he murmured. "Everything's too open. Like they're leading us…"
"GAAAARGHHH!"
The scream tore through the building.
Mihel froze.
'Midia.'
They both recognized it instantly.
Every hesitation shattered. They sprinted down the corridor, boots hammering against stone, until they reached the final room.
Above its entrance hung an animal skull, hollowed out, a small flame burning within its eye sockets.
They exchanged a single glance, then stepped inside.
Weapons raised.
"No… Midia…"
She hung from the ceiling, wrists chained high above her head. Her feet were bound to a massive stone, dragging her body downward.
The painting by Riche's father flashed in Mihel's mind as he saw this scene in front.
Dust and soot streaked Midia's face. A gag filled her mouth, muffling her sobs. Her small nose was dripping blood, which collected in a small pool of crimson below.
Riche rushed forward. "We're here," he said urgently. "We'll get you out. I promise."
Midia's eyes snapped wide. Not in relief. In terror.
She stared past them. Behind them.
A laugh echoed through the room. Slow. Amused.
Mihel felt a chill crawl up his spine.
Then came the sound of hands clapping, steady and deliberate, slicing through the silence.