The sun blazed over the dunes of Arathar, a desert land where the wind sang tales of forgotten gods and buried kingdoms. Twelve-year-old Kael kicked up clouds of golden sand as he darted across the makeshift arena, a wide, flat stretch of ground bordered by crumbling stone pillars. His friends, Tira and Milo, chased after him, their laughter echoing through the heat-hazed air."Got you!" Tira shouted, lunging forward with a stick fashioned into a mock sword. Kael spun, dodging her strike, and tossed a handful of sand in her direction, grinning as she sputtered and swiped at her eyes."Not fair!" she protested, but her smile betrayed her.Milo, stocky and serious for a boy of thirteen, folded his arms. "You're both terrible warriors. A real Sandknight would've ended this fight in two moves."Kael stuck out his tongue. "Oh yeah? Then why're you just standing there, Sir Milo? Scared I'll bury you in the dunes?"The three of them had played this game for years, pretending to be Sandknights—legendary warriors of Arathar who wielded blades forged from starlight and commanded the desert winds. The stories said the Sandknights had vanished centuries ago, after the Great Shatter, when the gods tore the world apart in a war that left half the continent as ash and sand. But to Kael, Tira, and Milo, those tales were as alive as the games they played.Kael scooped up another handful of sand, ready to launch it at Milo, when a strange hum vibrated through the ground. The grains beneath his feet shimmered, as if stirred by an unseen wind. He froze, his heart thumping. "Did you feel that?"Tira tilted her head, her braid swinging. "Feel what? You're just trying to distract us.""No, I'm serious." Kael dropped to his knees, pressing his palm to the ground. The hum grew stronger, like the pulse of a distant drum. The sand around his fingers began to swirl, forming tiny spirals that danced without wind.Milo's eyes widened. "Kael, get back!"Before Kael could move, the ground erupted. A burst of light shot upward, blinding him, and a wave of heat knocked him onto his back. Sand rained down as a low, guttural roar filled the air—not from a beast, but from something ancient, awakening. When Kael's vision cleared, he saw it: a glowing rune, etched into the sand, pulsing with golden light. It was shaped like a spiraling star, and it burned with a warmth that made his skin tingle.Tira grabbed his arm, yanking him to his feet. "What is that?""I—I don't know," Kael stammered, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. The rune seemed to call to him, its light sinking into his chest, filling him with a strange, electric energy. For a moment, he swore he heard a voice—a whisper, sharp and clear, saying, "Awaken, child of the sands."Before he could respond, a shadow loomed over the dunes. A massive airship, its hull carved with jagged runes, descended with a deafening whine. Black smoke billowed from its engines, and armored figures dropped from its sides, their boots sinking into the sand. Their armor was dark as obsidian, marked with crimson sigils that glowed like embers. These were no Sandknights. These were the Iron Ascendants, the warlords who ruled the northern empires and crushed any who defied them."Run!" Milo shouted, grabbing Tira's hand. But Kael couldn't move. The rune's light pulsed in time with his heartbeat, rooting him to the spot. One of the Ascendants, a towering figure with a helm shaped like a snarling beast, pointed a gauntleted hand at him."There!" the figure barked, voice amplified by some unnatural power. "The boy bears the mark! Seize him!"Kael's friends screamed his name, but the rune's light flared brighter, and a surge of energy exploded from his hands. Sand rose around him in a swirling vortex, shielding him from the advancing soldiers. He didn't understand how or why, but the desert itself seemed to answer his fear, bending to his will.The Ascendant leader laughed, a cold, metallic sound. "So, the Spark has awakened. The prophecy lives." He raised a blade that hummed with dark energy. "Kill the others. The boy comes with us."Kael's heart pounded as he realized what was happening. The stories weren't just stories. The Sandknights, the gods, the war—they were real. And somehow, he was part of it. As the soldiers closed in, the sand roared around him, and he knew one thing for certain: his life as a boy playing in the dunes was over.The war for Arathar had just begun.
