Sandborn - Awakening of the Frozen Sand

"The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis." – Dante Alighieri

Calix had mentioned that the three-shops alliance have the city guards on their side, willing to protect them. Even if that is true, it makes little difference to me. If the guards are corrupt, then a few more corpses won’t matter. They’re weak, like everyone else here, me included.

When a flux-weaver reaches the Bellator Class, they gain the ability to project their energy outward. But, as Azar knew, the amount of energy at their disposal was too small for flashy techniques. Instead, that energy should be used to coat their body, increasing defense and, above all, their chance of survival.

Bellator Class... he mused. It’s not about grand displays of power. It’s about understanding the limits. You can have all the flux in the world, but if you still bleed and break like any man, what good is it? Fists and blades still reign supreme. Even the strongest Bellator can lose their life in an instant—a single point strike, poison, a blade in the shadows...

Azar's thoughts darkened as he recalled seeing the city guards equipped with neon reaver pistols.

Maybe that’s why they all carry those wretched weapons.

Azar despised such things. A gun that gave weak men the power to challenge those beyond their natural ability? To him, it was an insult to true strength.

External power... nothing more than a crutch for the unworthy. These fools grow arrogant, forgetting how fragile they really are.

But, even as much as he hated them, Azar couldn’t ignore the truth.

A neon reaver... even in the hands of a child, it could kill a Bellator-Class flux-weaver. I had to reach this class before entering the city because of the extra layer of defense that it gives me. I thought that with my control over the flux, i would be above the common Bellators, as such, safer. Yet, here I am, surrounded by people wielding power they don’t even understand. But why aren’t they using it? Is it self-control? Or fear of the kingdom’s laws keeping them in line?

"What do we do now, master?" Araumir asked, snapping Azar from his thoughts.

"First, we’ll buy a candle. I want to honor Enora’s memory tonight," Azar replied calmly. "Then, we return to camp. You’ll gather the people to deliver the promised goods to Kasian. I have the few gold coins taken from the Sarabians. Twenty will go to Mohul, and tomorrow we’ll purchase the necessary materials for the caravan to return home."

"Master, perhaps you should reconsider staying here alone," Araumir urged. "I could be of more use to you if I stayed by your side."

Azar shook his head. "You would only become a burden, Araumir. The longer you stay, the more attention we’ll attract. Sooner or later, you’ll have to reveal your fluxolit profile. And what then? When people realize you’re stronger than me, they’ll start asking questions. Who am I? Where do I come from? Drawing attention like that doesn’t help my plans. No, you’ll return with the caravan and take care of the tribes. End of discussion."

"Yes," Araumir nodded, obedient but clearly reluctant.

. . .

After slipping out of the city as silently as they had entered, Azar and Araumir moved through the shadow world, heading for the Mirha tribe’s camp. They had no intention of attracting unwanted attention by entering the camp on their own, so they remained unseen, walking alongside the shadows.

In the tent, Mohul, Khaleb, and Lamuda sat around a small table, drinking tea. The shadows shifted, and Araumir and Azar emerged from them. At their sudden appearance, all three men rose to their feet, eager for news.

"Azar Syed, Araumir Syed, please, take a seat," Mohul said, gesturing towards the table.

Azar nodded, taking his place while Araumir sat beside him. Khaleb quickly poured tea for everyone before sitting as well.

"Syed, how did it go?" Mohul asked. "Were you successful?"

Azar smiled, pulling out the twenty gold coins he had promised and placing them on the table.

"They still think they can cheat us, offering insultingly low prices for our goods. But don’t worry," Azar said, taking a sip of his tea. "Next time you come, things will be different." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Tomorrow, we’ll purchase what we need. After that, you’ll return home. And listen carefully—do not mention to anyone that we acquired this much gold. If any of you fail to keep this secret, you’ll find yourselves cut out of my plans."

"Azar Syed, you need not worry," Lamuda assured him. "We will carry this secret to our graves." The others nodded in agreement.

"Good," Azar said, his tone firm. "Khaleb and Lamuda, you’ll take some men and deliver the goods to Tekery-Toll. The money you receive for them is all you have in your possession. Nothing else. The twenty gold will stay with Araumir until you return safely to the tribe. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Mohul answered, though concern lingered on his face. "But why all the secrecy? Has something happened?"

"That’s none of your concern," Azar replied sharply. "If you’re curious, Araumir will tell you once you’re back with the tribe. Now, let’s not waste any more time. I gave my word to Kasian and intend to rest early tonight."

Mohul nodded in silence, choosing not to dig dipper into the matter.

The men quickly prepared the camels, securing the rugs onto their backs. Azar, meanwhile, discreetly loaded the remaining rugs and hides into three wagons without attracting attention. After a final check, Khaleb and Lamuda led the men into the city.

By selling these goods, the Mirha tribe could justify their trip to Harmin and explain the origin of the money they would use the next day. Even if the guards grew suspicious and launched an investigation, their story was airtight.

Azar stayed behind with Mohul and Araumir, chatting idly until the group safely returned. Satisfied, he apologized and retired to his tent early. The night air, though cool, was less biting in this part of the desert.

. . .

In his tent, Azar sat in silence, his body unmoving as he meditated for over two hours. Eventually, he opened his eyes, exhaling deeply as he allowed fresh air to fill his lungs. He lit the candle and shifted into the seiza position, preparing his mind.

The ring on his finger gleamed, and a black mask with intricate patterns materialized in his hand. Azar traced the design with his fingers, almost tenderly, as if caressing the contours of a lover’s face.

"You gave me this mask when I had to lead the army in battle. A gift to both conceal my identity and shield me from the curses of men. I burned your clothes to forget your scent, gifted your ring to my brother so he could propose to his woman. I've lived countless lives on distant planets, loved other women, but none... none as deeply as I loved you."

Azar paused, feeling the weight of his memories.

"I couldn't reunite with you in the spirit world," he reflected bitterly. "Perhaps my spirit was too tainted, too impure compared to yours. You were always purer than me—maybe that's why your place is far higher, beyond my reach. Maybe you've already forgotten me, found another, a spirit as pure as you to accompany you through eternity. But I’m not mad. I’m grateful. Grateful that I had the privilege of knowing you, of experiencing the depths of love that you awakened in me."

A sigh escaped Azar's lips. "Now, I find myself needing to wear this mask again," he said quietly, staring at the raven-shaped mask, the one thing he could never bring himself to discard as it was made by his lover's hands. "This time also, i wear it not to enjoy peace with the people, but to deliver death once more. For using this mask to spill more blood, I beg your forgiveness, Enora. Princess of Trahos... my love for you is eternal."

Grabbing the mask, Azar clenched his fist around it. "When I lost you, I froze the desert in my fury, so that every grain of sand would know my pain. And now, the sands will freeze once more. My beloved Enora, Aizen will rise as 'The Nightmare' again. Forgive me... for failing to protect your legacy, for being too weak to bear your loss, and for leaving this land."

A single tear fell to the floor as Azar slowly placed the black mask on his face. The transformation began. His copper hair turned pitch-black, and his bright blue eyes gleamed red as his pupils turned into vertical slits, like a predator's in the night. He gazed up at the stars through the tent's opening, his jaw clenched to hold the wicked smile inside.

'Araumir,' Azar transmitted with cold finality. 'It's time to go.'

The flickering candlelight cast shadows inside the tent, and those shadows expanded, wrapping around Azar until he vanished within them.

. . .

The city of Harmin slept quietly, its streets bathed in the soft glow of sunstones mounted atop tall poles. City guards patrolled in small groups, like hawks keeping watch over the night. But they were oblivious to the unseen threat lurking in the shadows.

Unseen, except to those who knew where to look.

Following Azar’s orders, Araumir moved through the shadow world, approaching the large yet well-guarded home of Kasian, the merchant. The garden surrounding the house was secured with a sophisticated barrier that shimmered faintly in the night, invisible to the naked eye.

'It must have cost him a fortune,' Azar transmitted telepathically as he emerged beside Araumir, both standing on the street.

'Can it really stop us from shadow traveling?' Araumir asked, his voice skeptical.

'It can probably seal space and block teleportation,' Azar replied, studying the barrier with his sharp gaze. 'But I doubt it will hinder shadow travel. Still, better to be cautious. If the barrier is tied to an alarm system, it could alert everyone inside the moment we cross it.'

'Can you disable it, master?' Araumir inquired.

'If I can’t break through a runic barrier of this level,' Azar smirked, 'then I’ve wasted my life.' His eyes glowed faintly as he activated his technique, [World Seeing Eye], focusing on the flow of energy in the barrier.

While Azar worked, Araumir sent his shadow folk servants to watch the streets, ensuring that no one would interfere. Azar drew runic symbols with delicate precision, weaving them into the structure of the barrier. Each time he inserted a rune, the barrier rippled, a subtle tremor that even an expert might not notice.

A few minutes later, Azar stepped back. 'It’s done.'

'Did you shut it down?' Araumir asked, still seeing the barrier in place.

Azar smirked. 'No, I just took control over it. It doesn't hinder your shadow travel nor does it have an alarm integrated in it.'

'Then why have you still bothered with it?'

'To practice a little. Let's go inside, to the safe first,' Azar instructed.

With nothing more to say, Araumir controlled the shadows, following the directions of his master. Azar had not only discovered the location of Kasian's hidden fortune but had also memorized the layout of his entire estate after plundering the man's memories during their first encounter.

'We can emerge here,' Azar instructed as they arrived in a dimly lit chamber where the safe lay concealed behind a bookshelf.

Obeying without hesitation, Araumir tore open the veil between the shadow realm and the physical world. Both figures stepped into the room, their movements soundless as death itself. The air was thick with the smell of feet, the space cluttered with books and learning materials, a sanctuary for knowledge.

'What should I do with them?' Araumir asked, nodding toward the two figures sprawled out on opposite ends of the room. They were not scholars, after all, but guards. The chamber was far too cramped and cold to be a proper bedroom, with only small windows peeking just above ground level. These men were here to protect the treasure, not rest.