The air inside the buried palace was heavy — a mixture of ancient incense, dust, and something faintly metallic. Every step Red's team took echoed through halls untouched for ten thousand years. Their torches flickered against gilded walls etched with murals of kings, dragons, and wars long forgotten.
Lilith walked beside Red, her gloved fingers brushing the carvings. "This place…" she whispered. "It's alive. Like it's waiting for something."
Red gave a dry laugh. "Yeah — waiting for us to take its gold."
Behind them trudged the rest of the team:
Harlan, a Bulkitan war veteran with burn scars on his arms — once a soldier, now a mercenary because war was the only thing that made him feel alive.
Soren, a Maltec archaeologist who had turned rogue after the empire silenced his research into "forbidden" civilizations.
Dahl, a Serrathi engineer who'd lost his fortune to the guild lords and wanted redemption in treasure.
And Mara, a quiet woman from Vekari, known for her unmatched aim with a rifle — she said nothing about her past, but her eyes carried loss.
Each of them had their reasons for venturing into a place that all empires had banned from maps. But greed was the thread that bound them.
They searched room after room, finding ornate weapons, faded scrolls, and gold trinkets — nothing close to the mythic wealth Red promised.
"Whole city of gold, huh?" Dahl muttered. "Looks like rust and stone to me."
Red ignored him, shining his light on the massive double doors ahead, marked with the royal sigil of Dar es Salaam. "This is where the real treasure's kept. The royal vault."
As the others spread out, Lilith lingered near an open chamber filled with relics. On a cracked marble table lay a map — its surface illuminated with faint, shifting lines of blue light. Next to it, half-buried in dust, rested a golden bracelet shaped like intertwining serpents, each eye a polished emerald.
She traced a finger over the symbols. "This belonged to the royal family…" she murmured. "The tacticians wore these — it meant authority over armies."
As she lifted it, a cold whisper brushed her ear.
Wear it.
Lilith froze. "Who's there?"
No answer. Only silence and the faint hiss of sand against the palace walls.
Her heart pounded as she looked around. The room was empty.
She slipped the bracelet into her satchel and stepped into the hall — colliding with Red.
"Hey!" he barked, steadying her. "What'd you find?"
Before she could answer, a piercing scream erupted from down the corridor.
They ran.
When they reached the sound, one of the explorers — Soren — was on the ground, trembling, his lips pale and eyes wide with terror. Blood trickled from his mouth. His body stiffened, then fell still.
"What the hell happened?" Harlan shouted, dropping to his knees beside him.
Lilith's torchlight caught the carvings above a massive obsidian door. She read the inscription aloud, her voice shaking.
"Here lies the Vault of Kings. To open, one must pay the price of life."
As if hearing her words, the door began to move — ancient gears grinding, the heavy stone splitting open.
A blinding golden light spilled out.
Behind it lay a chamber vast enough to swallow a city. Piles of gold and jewels gleamed in impossible quantities. The mercenaries broke into laughter, racing forward to fill their bags, shouting and cheering.
Only Lilith stood still.
Because beyond the treasure, stretching into the shadows, were rows of enormous glass chambers — stasis tanks, hundreds of thousands of them, lining both sides of the room like silent soldiers. Inside floated human figures, motionless but whole, their skin untouched by time.
"What is this…" Mara whispered, her voice trembling. "They're… alive."
Red frowned. "Alive or not, they won't miss the gold."
He pushed through the piles toward the largest tank at the far end. The figure inside was young, regal, his features perfect — his hair floating like black silk in the liquid. A golden plaque beneath the glass bore words in red ink:
Ahmad Salaam
Lilith felt her throat tighten. "No… it can't be. The prince of Dar es Salaam. Qione's son."
Harlan stared in disbelief. "Ten thousand years and he's still breathing?"
Lilith swallowed hard. "There were rumors that King Qione sealed his best warriors — and his heir — in stasis. A safeguard. To awaken if the nation ever returned."
Red snorted. "Then let's make sure they don't."
He lifted his massive axe and swung it at the tank.
The blade struck — and rebounded with a clang that shook the room. Not even a scratch.
Before anyone could speak, a voice echoed from the shadows behind them. Calm. Deep.
"You will not break it."
The group spun around, weapons drawn. A tall man in golden sand wraps stepped into the light. His eyes gleamed green through the cloth. His uniform, black trimmed with gold, was immaculate.
Red leveled his axe. "Who the hell are you?"
The man inclined his head slightly. "I am Abdul Der, butler of the royal household of Salaam."
Behind him, another figure appeared — armored in obsidian, silent as a shadow. "This," Abdul added, "is one of His Highness's household guards."
In an instant, the guard vanished — reappearing beside Lilith. Before Red could react, Harlan swung his weapon, but the strike hit air. The two of them — Lilith and the guard — appeared across the room near the altar in front of Ahmad Salaam's chamber.
"You… you're ghosts," Dahl stammered.
"Not ghosts," Abdul said softly. "Preserved. Bound by a curse that forbade us to awaken the reserves. Until you came."
The guard slipped the golden bracelet from Lilith's satchel and fastened it around her arm. The metal tightened, glowing faintly.
"Stop!" Red charged forward, axe raised — but the guard moved like lightning, knocking him back effortlessly. Red hit the ground hard, dazed, as the guard lifted Lilith's arm and placed it against the altar.
The entire room began to hum.
Stone shifted. Lights pulsed through the walls. The liquid inside the prince's stasis tank began to drain.
Lilith screamed as the mechanisms roared to life, the bracelet on her wrist burning like fire.
Then — silence.
Inside the tank, Ahmad Salaam's eyes opened — bright, piercing blue and
green.
The butler and the household guard dropped to one knee.
All across the palace, mummified sentries stirred and knelt in unison.
The prince stepped out of the tank, liquid dripping from his skin, his expression calm — almost serene. He inhaled deeply, his voice smooth and commanding.
"Ah… the Age of Dragons. Tell me, Abdul — where is my father?"
Abdul's gaze lowered. "Your father fell, my prince. Ten thousand years ago. The Salaam Empire has been reduced to dust. Betrayed by our former allies."
A shadow crossed Ahmad's face. "I warned him," he murmured. "And the rest of my family?"
"Slain, my lord. All… except your sister. She was captured by the Bulkitan Empire during the fall and remains sealed in their vaults."
"Then she lives." Ahmad's expression hardened. "Good."
He turned, his gaze falling upon Red's team. "And these intruders?"
Abdul spoke evenly. "The ones who awakened you, my lord. Fools… but keys."
Ahmad walked toward them, each step measured, his presence filling the chamber. When he passed Lilith, he stopped. His eyes narrowed.
"Why is she wearing my sister's bracelet?"
The air went still. Lilith's voice faltered. "I—I found it in a chamber. It called to me."
Ahmad's tone darkened. "So my sister still reaches across time. Tell me, woman — from which kingdom do you hail?"
"Maltec," she whispered. "I was born in Maltec."
A spark of disdain flickered in his eyes. "Ah. The descendants of traitors."
He looked to Abdul. "Take her. She will serve me — as my tactician. Reprogram her mind. I cannot abide the scent of a Maltec in my presence."
Before Red could move, Ahmad raised his hand. A single motion — and Red was thrown back by an unseen force, crashing into one of the empty stasis tanks. He groaned, coughing, unable to stand.
Abdul bowed. "At once, my lord."
The guard seized Lilith by the arm and led her through a side door, her terrified eyes glancing back once before the door sealed shut behind them.
The chamber beyond was dim, lined with strange machinery. At its center stood a pool of liquid glowing with blue light. The guard released her.
"This is the Bath of Salaam," Abdul said, following them in. "It will grant you memory — and allegiance."
Lilith's breath caught. "What happens if I refuse?"
Abdul's voice was calm. "You won't."
She stepped forward, compelled by a force she didn't understand, and touched the liquid. A wave of knowledge — history, language, battle, creation — flooded her mind. Visions of dragons chained beneath the desert, cities of gold, and the fall of empires.
When she rose, her eyes shimmered a deep blue — the color of the Salaam tacticians.
Abdul bowed slightly. "Welcome, Lady Lilith Der, Tactician of Dar es Salaam."
Behind her, the palace rumbled — the sound of awakening legions stirring in the dark.
And as Lilith followed Abdul back toward the throne chamber, the prince of Dar es Salaam raised his hand toward the heavens buried beneath the sand.
"Let the Great War begin," Ahmad Salaam said softly.
"And may the desert remember its kings."