Days blurred together as the caravan dragged itself through the wasteland.
The sun bore down, relentless, turning sweat to salt and sand to fire beneath their feet. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of hunger gnawing at their ribs, thirst scouring their throats raw.
Their march had slowed to a crawl. Hollow eyes searched the horizon, but it was always the same—endless dunes, shifting with the wind, swallowing any hope of an end.
Then the silence broke.
First, murmurs. Then whispers. Then voices, sharp and cracking under the strain.
"This is madness,"
someone rasped, their breath shallow, words barely making it past their parched lips.
"We're walking to our graves."
A man scoffed, spitting into the sand.
"We had shelter back there. Now? Nothing."
Mark stepped forward, his presence alone enough to stall the voices.
"We knew this wouldn't be easy. But—"
A woman cut him off, eyes hollow, her frame trembling with exhaustion.
"But what, Mark? You promised us a future. You swore the children—"
Her voice broke, shoulders shaking as she turned away.
Tension thickened, pressing down like the heat.
A ragged voice, rough as the cracked earth, rose from the crowd.
"We should've sacrificed ourselves instead of them."
Mark's breath hitched, a flicker of something raw in his eyes.
"We did what we had to."
"Did we?"
Another stepped forward, their gaze sharp with something cold and final.
"We're already dead out here. And we're dragging that thing with us. If we're going to die, we should take it with us."
The murmurs turned to something darker. A shift, subtle but unmistakable.
Doubt had taken root. And it was spreading.
"How do you propose we kill a worm that size?"
Someone muttered, voice dry as the dust beneath their feet.
The first man turned, eyes locking onto Kael like a predator spotting prey.
"Hey, fire guy, why don't you do it?"
Kael didn't even look his way. A smirk tugged at his lips, lazy and unconcerned.
"You'll have to ask my brother. He's the mastermind behind all this."
The man's face twisted, frustration darkening into something sharper. Without another word, he turned and stalked toward Max. Others followed, their desperation thickening into something dangerous.
Max stood apart, his gaze fixed on the horizon, unmoving even as they surrounded him.
"We're done," a voice spat.
"We're starving. We're not dragging that thing any farther."
"If we're going to die," another cut in,
"we'll die avenging our children."
The word avenge cracked through the air like a whip.
Max's gaze snapped to them, cold, cutting. His voice, quiet but steady, carried like a gathering storm.
"You make me sick."
The air shifted.
Max stepped forward, contempt coiling in his stance.
"You threw your own children into the pit. You watched them die. And now you want to act like martyrs?"
Silence.
Eyes dropped. Shoulders hunched. Shame seeped through the cracks of their anger.
Max let it settle, let it sink in.
Then he turned, scanning the caravan. Not everyone was broken. Some still gripped their packs, still stared ahead, still walked.
His voice cut through the stillness.
"Who here wants to die like a coward?"
No one moved.
Max exhaled, slow, sharp.
"I thought so."
He turned and walked.
One by one, they followed.
Behind them, the worm groaned in its stone cart, its massive form shifting, breathing—still bound to them, still part of their fate.
Max touched his pouch, fingers brushing the small vials inside.
'Three left.'
His grip tightened.
'We have to reach the end before I run out.'
————
Ash walked at the rear, his boots sinking into the sand with each step. His job wasn't complicated—watch the stragglers, keep them moving, make sure no one disappeared.
The desert had a way of swallowing people.
His gaze flicked to the dunes stretching endlessly ahead. Something moved in the distance—shadows shifting, slithering just beneath the surface. Watching.
Ash exhaled, voice barely above a whisper.
"Days now… Max's plan is actually working."
'But for how much longer?'
His eyes drifted to the group, settling on Kael near the worm cart. Always close to the thing, always lingering. But now—he was moving. Heading toward Max.
Ash slowed his pace, watching them. They spoke, shoulders tense, words too low to hear. Then, suddenly, Kael turned, scanning the caravan before locking onto Ash.
He smiled.
Something twisted in Ash's gut.
Kael strode toward him, grin fading into something unreadable. When he finally reached him, his tone was almost casual.
"You're good at this. Watching from the back."
Ash shrugged.
"Someone has to. Otherwise, people start vanishing."
Kael chuckled, but it barely reached his eyes.
"We're stopping soon. We need to talk."
Ash's brow furrowed.
"Talk about what?"
Kael's gaze flicked past him, scanning the others before lowering his voice.
"Max's plan is falling apart."
A chill ran through Ash, despite the heat.
"How bad?"
Kael's jaw tightened.
"Three vials left. And we're nowhere near the end."
The sand felt heavier beneath Ash's feet.
"If people find out—" Kael started.
"They'll panic." Ash finished it.
Kael gave a slow nod.
Ash let out a slow breath, steadying himself. He had known supplies were low, but hearing it aloud made it real. The end they had gambled everything on was slipping further away.
"I hope Max has a way out of this," Ash murmured.
Kael's lips curved—not a smirk, not a smile. Something between them.
"Actually… he does."
Ash's shoulders tensed.
"And?"
Kael turned, already walking away. Over his shoulder, he called,
"You'll find out. After we stop."
Ash watched him go, the weight of those words pressing down harder than the desert sun.
————
The sun bled into the horizon, drowning the dunes in deep orange before fading into cold twilight. Heat still clung to the air, but the desert had already begun its transformation—blazing inferno giving way to something cold and quieter.
The caravan clustered around the stone cart, shoulders slumped, breaths heavy. Their voices barely rose above a murmur, edged with exhaustion.
Firelight danced against their faces, but the darkness beyond pressed close, swallowing the edges of their camp.
Ash stood at the perimeter, gaze locked on the sky. Stars bled through the veil of night, distant and indifferent. But his focus dropped, scanning the sand, the way it shifted, restless.
Movement.
Something slithered just beyond sight, a shadow gliding beneath the dunes, patient. Waiting.
Ash's fingers twitched at his side. He had seen it before—following, circling, never coming closer. Not yet.
He exhaled.
"Just don't get smart enough to figure it out."
Then—
The cart lurched.