The Wailing Wastes did not whisper—they screamed.
Wind clawed across the dunes, each grain of sand sharp as broken time. Otoku trudged forward, the Codex bound to his back in shadow-thread. Gravy limped beside him, one eye flickering like a dying lantern.
They were not alone.
Behind them, the ashes of the Charnel Colosseum still smoldered. Ahead, the sky bent—twisting into aurora spirals of crimson and void. Something was warping the desert.
A caravan rolled into view—eight robed figures, armor wrapped in sun-silk, eyes glowing beneath desert goggles. Their leader held a crescent staff pulsing with mirage magic.
"Halt," she said, voice muffled but commanding. "You carry forbidden aura."
Otoku raised his cracked hand. "I'm looking for Ashveil Academy."
The leader lowered her veil.
She was barely older than Otoku, but her eyes held centuries. Zehra of the Mirage Clan, heir to a forbidden bloodline—half-spirit, half-human.
"You're a devourer."
"I'm a student," Otoku replied.
Zehra tilted her head. "Then you'll need to pass the Trials. Ashveil doesn't take monsters lightly."
---
Scene End Tease:
As Otoku slept that night, the Codex opened on its own. Words burned onto a blank page:
> "Ashveil is a tomb that calls itself a school. Enter, and choose: become the sword, or the stone it breaks.
And from the dunes, a masked hunter watched. He carried a chain made of phoenix bones—and a bounty with Otoku's name on it.