You whip your reins hard.
—Robert!— you shout, driving your camel into a lurching gallop. Sand flies behind you.
The mercenaries turn, blades half-drawn, startled by your sudden charge. You reach Robert just as a dagger flashes—knocking the attacker sideways with the butt of your weapon.
Robert wheels around, sword drawn. His eyes lock with yours for one blazing second. He understands.
And then all hell breaks loose.
Blades sing. Camels rear. The air fills with shouts, curses, steel against steel.
You fight, shoulder to shoulder, just like you did in another life. Robert parries a blow meant for your heart. You repay the debt two seconds later. But they’re too many.
You hear it before you see it—the choked sound of a man stabbed deep.
Robert stumbles. His sword clatters against stone.
—No!— you scream, slicing wildly at the nearest mercenary.
But the fight is over. One of them—their leader—pulls you back, bloodied hands gripping your shoulders.
—Enough! We warned you!
You shove him away and drop to Robert’s side. He’s still breathing, barely.
—It was worth it,— he whispers, blood at the corner of his mouth. —I’d rather die standing beside you than live in a world where I abandoned you.
His hand goes still in yours.
The mercenaries stand around, watching without pity.
—You made your choice,— the leader says. —Now make another. Will you come with us? Or lie down with the corpse?
You close Robert’s eyes and rise slowly, covered in his blood.
—I’ll ride.
He nods.
—Then don’t look back.
You don’t. But something in you dies with him.
That night, the desert is silent but for the fire crackling low. You barely touch your food.
An old man settles beside the fire without a word, his presence quiet but heavy, like a shadow stretching at dusk. For a while, he only watches the flames, his face unreadable in their flickering light. Then, almost absently, he speaks—not to you, not exactly.
—The wind carries strange names tonight,— he murmurs. —And power stirs in your path.— His eyes meet yours, steady and knowing. —You may call me a magus, if names matter to you.— He smiles faintly, as if amused by some private joke, then lapses back into silence, leaving the words to hang and rot in the dark.
You say nothing. Your sadness absorbs you.
He just murmurs:
—Tonight, you’ll dream of a massive crow, black as the void, gouging out your eyes with its beak.
You stare.
—That’s not much of a lullaby.
Sleep takes hours to come, but when it does… the crow descends. Screams. Darkness.
You wake in sweat, heart pounding.
The magus is already watching.
—You saw it,— he says simply.
—The crow,— you whisper. —How did you…?
—Because I saw it first. A few nights ago. A vision. A warning. Or maybe a promise.
You feel a cold weight settle over your chest.
—Now we share the dream. And the future it brings. —He leaves.
Your guide grabs your arm in the dark. Eyes wide. You look at him guide in disbelief.
—You saw the dream too?— you whisper.
He shakes his head, eyes wide with fear.
—No. But I heard you scream. And he was already waiting, like he knew. That’s magi work. Dark work. He put it in your head. We need to leave. Tonight. Before dawn, before he does worse.
You glance back at the magus—still cross-legged by the fire, watching the embers like a priest at prayer. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. But you feel his gaze like a weight.
The dream still claws at your mind.
You nod slowly. You have to decide.
You agree to flee with your guide before dawn, fearing the magus’s dark influence.
You stay with the band, wondering if the dream was a true vision—and your fate is bound to theirs.
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