SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

The moon hung low over the desolate desert, casting faint silver glow across the endless sea of sand. The chilling wind howled softly, cutting through the eerie silence.

Kent sat cross-legged by the dwindling campfire and carefully held the manual given by Grizzac in hand.

His companions—Jean, Aran Lam, and Gunji Zing—sleeping nearby, their faces tired and worn from three days of fruitless wandering.

With a deep breath, Kent turned the pages of the ancient, weathered manual given to him by Old Man Grizzac. The manual crinkled softly as he flipped through it under the soft glow of the fire.

Just then Jean woke up and saw what Kent was doing.

“Are you sure that thing’s gonna help us?” Jean asked, shifting closer to the warmth. Her green eyes flickered with doubt as they landed on the book. “We’ve been walking in circles. I don’t even know if we’re heading deeper or just stuck in the same spot.”

Kent didn’t reply immediately. His finger trailed down the weathered page until it stopped on a passage written in Grizzac’s distinct, jagged script:

‘The shrine of eternal Sands will reveal itself to those who follow the whisper of the wind. Let the sand slip through your fingers. The last grain that remains shall point the way. But be wary—the desert’s wind is fickle, and its direction may shift like a thought.’

Kent exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed the words.

“This might be the only way,” Kent finally said, lifting his gaze to his companions. “It’s a risk, this manual shows the method to trace the shrine of eternal sands.”

“Then how could it help us to leave the desert?” Jean asked with a confused look.

“If you listen to my idea, you might call me an idiot.” Kent smiled lazily.

“What’s the method? Tell me, I won’t make fun of it. Also, we can’t afford to wander aimlessly.” Jean asked in a sulky tone.

Kent held up a handful of fine, golden sand. “It’s simple. Let the sand flow through your grip. The last grain that falls shows the direction of the shrine of eternal sands.” His eyes flickered with conviction. “But we’re not heading for the shrine. We’ll move in the opposite direction. If the shrine is moving deeper in the desert, then walking the other way should lead us out.”

Jean’s brow furrowed. “Opposite direction? What if we’re wrong?”

Kent closed the manual and slipped it back into his spirit ring. “If we keep going aimlessly, we’ll die out here. I’d rather take a gamble on something that feels like a sign than keep wandering blindly.”

The fire crackled softly, the only sound accompanying the unspoken tension that settled over the group.

“Fine,” Jean said and woke up others.

Soon, everyone agreed to rely on Kent’s idea for now and see how it will turn out.

Kent stood up and stepped away from the fire, kneeling on the cool sand. The others followed, forming a half-circle around him. Slowly, Kent lifted a handful of sand and let it trickle through his fingers. The grains danced and shimmered in the moonlight as they slipped down, carried slightly by the night breeze.

Everyone held their breath as the final grain lingered on Kent’s palm for a fleeting moment before falling in a direction slightly northwest.

“That way,” Kent muttered, pointing toward the path indicated by the last grain. Your journey continues on My Virtual Library Empire

Gunji’s eyes narrowed. “Then we head south-east.”

Kent nodded.

As the group gathered their things, Jean gave one last glance toward the faint imprint of their campfire. The desert swallowed every trace of their stay, as if they were never there.

Their journey resumed under the pale moon, the stars flickering like distant watchers observing their fate. The wind whispered and shifted, but Kent stayed vigilant, pausing every hour to let the sand slip through his hand again.

–

Desolate Desert…

The wind howled across the desolate desert, scraping the sand like dull razors over stone. Fatty Ben groaned as he stumbled forward, his round figure visibly smaller than it had been weeks ago. His usual exuberance had faded, leaving behind a gaunt face and weary eyes.

“I swear,” Fatty huffed, dragging his feet, “one more step and I’m going to collapse. Why did we even come out here, Madam?”

Mohini walked a few paces ahead, her hood pulled low to shield her sunken eyes from the stinging wind. Her usually radiant skin had turned pale, and the faint glow of magic around her seemed to flicker with fatigue. Lambu, her serpent beast, changed his form and lay draped around her shoulders like a limp scarf, its scales dull and lifeless.

“Because,” Mohini muttered through cracked lips, “we didn’t have a choice. We left the mountain desert to find a path out, but this place… it feels endless.”

Fatty Ben groaned again. “I’m not sure if we’re escaping the desert or just wandering deeper into it.”

Lambu hissed weakly, managing a faint, sarcastic tone. “Perhaps if you hadn’t eaten half the rations, we’d be doing better.”

Ben’s eyes flashed indignantly. “I only ate one extra pack! I needed the energy to keep going.”

Mohini exhaled softly. Even Lambu didn’t have the strength to banter properly anymore. The tension hung between them, silent and suffocating.

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting long, jagged shadows across the dunes, the three finally stopped to rest. Fatty Ben collapsed against a boulder, brushing sand from his thinning robes. “I can’t keep going like this. We need to stop for the night.”

Mohini nodded absently and began to prepare a small magical barrier around them, though her spells sputtered. Lambu coiled limply at her feet, his tongue flicking at the cold air.

Just as Mohini raised her hand to complete the ward, a strange sound drifted toward them from the horizon – soft, melodic, and impossibly beautiful.

Ben’s head jerked up. “What was that?”

The three of them turned toward the sound, eyes scanning the dark expanse ahead. Far in the distance, a shadow appeared against the horizon – darker than the night itself. It loomed large, but oddly inviting. From within that dark structure, the melody echoed stronger, wrapping around their senses like silk.

“A flying treasure hall?” Ben guessed, squinting.

Mohini shook her head. “Maybe… But it might be our way out.”

Lambu uncoiled slightly, his tongue flicking nervously. “It’s getting closer.”

–

*Any plans/ resolutions for new year!