The city was not dead.
It breathed slowly like something asleep and refusing to wake.
Nilo and Kanan stepped over broken gates and shattered tiles, their eyes wide. Each corner whispered of battles past. Burned banners still clung to poles. A fountain stood dry, its basin cracked, but the carvings of peacocks still glared defiantly from its rim.
"This place…" Kanan murmured, running his fingers across the stone. "It feels like it remembers."
"Remembers what?" Nilo asked.
Kanan didn't answer. He didn't need to. The silence itself was heavy with memory.
They wandered deeper.
A flash of movement cut across a collapsed arch. Both froze.
"Did you see "
"Yeah," Nilo whispered, already crouching. His hand drifted to the sling on his belt. "Someone's here."
The sound of soft footsteps above them deliberate, confident. Then, a voice.
"You shouldn't be here."
The boys spun, eyes darting upward.
She stood on the ledge of a half-fallen tower, one foot balanced against a broken stone, the other bent like a poised hunter. Cloak wrapped around her shoulders, hair falling loose in the desert wind. Her eyes sharp, assessing.
Nilo grinned despite the tension. "Wow. Dramatic entrance."
She didn't smile.
"Leave this city," she said. "It doesn't want you here."
Nilo spread his hands. "Relax. We're just… tourists. Lost ones."
Kanan added carefully: "We mean no harm. We're travelers, that's all."
Her gaze lingered on him longer, as though weighing something.
"Travelers don't wander into ruins," she said flatly. "Spies do. Or thieves."
"Spies? Us?" Nilo laughed, though his voice cracked at the end. "Look at us! I can barely spy on my own shadow."
The corner of her mouth twitched - the smallest hint of amusement.
But then she leapt.
She landed in the sand before them with the grace of someone who had trained for years. Her cloak shifted, revealing armour beneath - scuffed, but strong. At her hip, a curved blade rested easily in its sheath.
"Tell me your names," she demanded.
"I'm Nilo," he said with mock cheer, pointing to his chest. "This is Kanan. We're brothers. Not by blood - by fate. Well, and maybe stupidity."
Kanan shot him a look.
The girl's eyes narrowed. "Nilo. Kanan." She repeated their names as if testing their weight.
Finally, she spoke again, softer this time. "This city was mine once. My people's. It was stolen from us. Burned."
Her eyes turned cold again. "So if you've come for what little remains, I'll cut you down where you stand."
The silence stretched.
Then, from the shadows of the ruined wall, a growl low, guttural, wrong.
The boys turned sharply. A beast, thin as famine but with eyes glowing like molten glass, crawled from the debris. Its ribs stuck out, its claws raked against the stone. Hunger radiated from it like heat.
Nilo muttered, "Oh, fantastic. The welcoming committee."
The girl's hand went to her blade. She didn't hesitate — but before she could strike, Nilo's sling was already spinning. His mouth curved into a grin.
"Alright, Kanan. Time for some tourist souvenirs."
And for the first time, the princess saw it; the faint shimmer of Oorja sparking in Nilo's movements.
Her eyes widened, just slightly.
She lowered her sword.
Maybe, just maybe, these two weren't intruders.
Maybe they were something else.
[To Be Continued...]