Chapter 46| Beneath the Sand
The attack came just past midnight, without warning, without the drums or war cries that had heralded Ashkar’s war party — only a sudden, violent eruption of sand near the encampment’s eastern perimeter, followed immediately by screams.
Allen was moving before he’d fully processed the sound, Ashfall Talons already sliding into place, Guardian’s Instinct flaring with sharp, urgent clarity as he burst from the tent into chaos.
The creatures erupting from beneath the settlement’s outer edge defied easy categorization — segmented, chitinous bodies the color of wet sand, too many limbs, jaws lined with rows of serrated teeth, moving with a horrifying, fluid speed that made Allen’s earlier confidence falter for just a moment before training took over.
"Sandwalkers," Vivian confirmed grimly, already moving beside him, blade drawn, enhanced hearing tracking the creatures’ subterranean movement with startling precision despite the chaos. "At least a dozen, converging from multiple points. This isn’t a random attack. This is coordinated."
"Protect the camp," Allen said, already throwing himself into the fray, Precision Throw carving through chitinous armor with dragonfire-infused force. "Barbarian warriors first, civilians second, everyone gets out of this alive."
Irene’s flames roared to life beside him moments later, carving devastating arcs through the writhing chaos, while Everlyn’s roots erupted from the cracked earth, ensnaring several Sandwalkers mid-strike, buying crucial seconds for Ashkar’s warriors to rally into defensive formation.
Myria fought without her usual wheelchair, movements still unfamiliar and slightly unsteady on legs that hadn’t borne her weight in years, but her ice proved no less devastating for the awkwardness, freezing entire clusters of Sandwalkers solid with the same Supreme-tier precision she’d wielded since her own bloodline’s restoration.
"There!" Vivian’s voice cut sharply through the chaos, gesturing toward a section of collapsing tents where a cluster of Sandwalkers had cornered several fleeing children, Ashkar’s warriors too spread thin to reach them in time.
Allen moved without hesitation, closing the distance in seconds, Ashfall Talons blazing as he drove himself bodily between the terrified children and the advancing creatures, throwing with brutal, precise fury that left three Sandwalkers dissolving into dark, viscous remains within moments.
"Get them to the central fire," he shouted toward a nearby warrior, who scooped up the youngest child without hesitation, ushering the rest toward the encampment’s protected center.
The fight raged on for what felt like an eternity, the combined efforts of Fallen Crown and Ashkar’s warriors gradually turning the tide against the coordinated assault, until finally, as suddenly as it had begun, the remaining Sandwalkers broke formation and fled, burrowing back beneath the sand with the same eerie, fluid speed they’d emerged with.
Silence fell over the battered encampment, broken only by the crackle of scattered fires and the ragged breathing of exhausted defenders.
"Casualties?" Myria called out, voice tight with barely restrained tension as she surveyed the damage.
Sera appeared moments later, expression grim but steady. "Some wounded. No deaths, thanks to you." She glanced toward Allen, something fierce and grateful behind her dark eyes. "This attack was not normal. Sandwalkers rarely strike settlements directly. They hunt lone travelers, small parties. Never a full encampment, not in my lifetime."
"Something’s changed," Vivian said grimly, sheathing her blade as she surveyed the retreating creatures’ burrowed trail. "Or something’s provoking them."
Ashkar arrived moments later, expression carrying a mixture of exhaustion and profound, unspoken gratitude as he clasped Allen’s forearm in a gesture that needed no translation. He spoke rapidly to Sera, who translated with visible weight.
"He says your people fought like the old stories. Like warriors from before the sky broke, when such power was common among his ancestors." She hesitated. "He asks if this is why the elder believes you were sent to help."
"Tell him," Allen said, exhaustion and adrenaline warring in his chest as he surveyed the battered but surviving encampment around them, "that whatever sent us here, we’re not leaving until this world has a real chance at something better than slow dying."
The translation carried, and Ashkar’s scarred face shifted into something Allen recognized immediately — not just gratitude, but genuine, hard-won respect, the kind earned only through shared danger and mutual sacrifice.
---
They gathered back in their tent well past the deepest part of the night, exhaustion settling heavily over all of them, though the adrenaline of battle lingered stubbornly beneath the surface.
"That was too coordinated," Myria said, still turning the battle over with sharp, strategic focus despite her visible fatigue. "Sandwalkers hunting in packs is documented in what little the elder shared. Sandwalkers launching a deliberate, multi-point assault against a fortified settlement is something else entirely."
"You think something’s directing them," Allen said, already following her train of thought.
"I think it’s worth considering," Myria said carefully. "Especially given everything we learned today about an unclosed rift potentially still active somewhere in this world. If there’s a core sustaining that tear, and if it’s been slowly poisoning this entire ecosystem for generations, it’s not unreasonable to wonder whether it’s also capable of influencing the creatures living within its influence."
Everlyn’s notepad appeared, expression troubled as she held it up for the others to see.
’If that’s true, this isn’t just about closing a rift. It’s about facing whatever’s been causing all of this from the very beginning.’
Allen absorbed the weight of that possibility carefully, glancing around at his exhausted, battle-worn wives, at the quiet, unwavering resolve still evident in each of their expressions despite the night’s brutal violence.
"Then that’s what we do," he said finally, voice steady despite the daunting scope of what lay ahead. "Whatever’s out there, whatever’s been slowly killing this world for generations, we find it. And we end it."
"Together," Irene added firmly, exhaustion doing nothing to dim the fierce determination in her voice. "All five of us. No exceptions."
Outside, the twin moons hung low over a battered but surviving encampment, and somewhere beneath the sand, in the deep, ancient dark, something vast and patient continued its slow, deliberate work — entirely unaware that the first real challenge to its dominion in generations had just arrived.