-The desert, the ridge-
Sleep had taken Talia and the Diviner after the brutal climb and following events. Both of them were exhausted. Talia stirred first, the stiff ache of her body pulling her awake. The memory of the night before rushed back unbidden—the heat of the Diviner's hand, the brush of lips, the way her chest had ached with something too dangerous to name. Her eyes flicked across the firepit. The Diviner was still there, seated upright as though she hadn't slept at all, her sightless face angled toward the rising sun. For a moment, Talia let herself watch. The way the wind teased at her hair, the way a lazy, lopsided smile tugged at her lips.
Then the Diviner spoke, quiet, certain.
"You're staring again, Wildfire."
Heat snapped up Talia's neck. She scrambled for armor, for deflection.
"No, I'm not. Don't flatter yourself."
The Diviner tilted her head, the ghost of amusement dancing in her expression. But she didn't press—didn't acknowledge the kiss, didn't corner her. Just let the silence stretch, heavy with everything unspoken. Or that was how she would have acted before her new uninhibited state. Instead, every ounce of discomfort read on her features.
"You can't pretend nothing ha-"
She was cut short when a scout cried out in relief, waving them toward the regrouped soldiers, what was left of them. Talia straightened her armor before stepping into sight.
"Not now." she said sternly.
When addressing the soldiers, her voice was steady, brisk—almost too sharp as she reported the path they'd carved through the chaos. She never once looked at the Diviner while speaking. But the others noticed the exhaustion etched into both their faces, the way grit still clung to their clothes, the faint tremor of weariness in Talia's hands. Questions were asked—how had they survived when others hadn't?—but Talia brushed them aside with clipped efficiency. The Diviner, for her part, said little. But now that she was no longer afraid of being seen, the soldiers could see a very different side of her. Not anger or regret. She stood just behind Talia, fragile and hurt, her silence sharp as glass. The unspoken lingered between them, but here, in front of comrades, both retreated behind armor of different kinds. And yet—when their paths briefly crossed, a shoulder brushing, or when the Diviner tilted her head as if "seeing" her without looking, Talia's heart lurched. She hated herself for it.
Then the Diviner suddenly snapped up, her blind eyes fixed on the horizon. The action had Talia worried for a moment because it was so sudden. When she followed her gaze she saw that the day was slowly progressing across the dunes, bleeding pale light into the fading stars. The desert had quieted after the storm of collapsing stone, the air still thick with the scent of dust and burnt magic. But she knew that couldn't be what the Diviner was looking at.
Then she saw it. Standing on one of the taller dunes in the distance.
Stonefang. Just where the ridge met the valley—a hulking silhouette of gray fur and amber eyes. He had waited through the night, unmoving, the wind combing through his mane like a prayer that refused to die. When he saw them—Talia leaning on her sword, the Diviner limping towards him—he rose at once. Talia didn't say anything as the Diviner put some distance between her and what was left of the patrol. She told the patrol to stay and quietly followed the Diviner. She was torn between her duties as a paladin and what had happened between her and the Diviner. The biggest problem was that she couldn't let the patrol know about any of that.
"Stonefang," the Diviner breathed, her voice breaking into a laugh halfway through. "You stubborn, beautiful beast—you actually waited."
The wolf bounded forward but stopped short of her, paws digging into the sand. His head lowered, eyes fixed on her face. His tail didn't wag. His ears twitched once, uncertain. Talia stepped back, sensing the air between them shift—something tense and wordless passing in that space. The Diviner extended her hand, smiling with that same irreverent ease she'd worn since the temple.
"What's wrong? Don't tell me you've gone soft on me."
Stonefang didn't move. His lips curled just slightly—not in threat, but confusion. His nose flared as he took in her scent. He huffed once, sharp and low, and circled her.
"He doesn't recognize you," Talia murmured.
"Nonsense." The Diviner kept her tone light, but her smile wavered. "He's just sulking because I took too long."
The ease with which the Diviner had switched from her strained reserved to being this reckless cheerful again confused Talia greatly. Though deep down she already knew she was hiding behind a mask when they were with company, when Talia pretended nothing had happened.
The wolf stopped behind the Diviner, close enough that she could feel his breath against her back. His fur brushed her cloak as he leaned forward and pressed his muzzle against her shoulder.
The Diviner froze.
Slowly, Stonefang exhaled—a deep, guttural sigh that trembled through his frame. Then, with deliberate slowness, he bumped his head against her hand, as if to say you're changed, but you're still mine.
The Diviner's expression softened, the reckless spark in her eyes dimming just a little. She knelt beside him, fingers threading through the coarse fur at his neck.
"I know," she whispered. "Something's missing. I can feel it too."
Stonefang let out a low, plaintive sound and licked the back of her hand.
"I think," Talia said quietly, "he's worried you'll burn yourself out."
The Diviner laughed weakly, rubbing her thumb along Stonefang's jawline.
"He's not wrong. Fear kept me cautious, and now… well."
"Now you're dangerous," Talia said. "Even to yourself."
"Then he'll have to be my leash." The Diviner rested her forehead against Stonefang's. "Won't you, old friend?"
The wolf's ears twitched forward. He huffed again—soft, reluctant—and nuzzled her, as if accepting the role with the patience of one who already knew he would have no choice.
The Diviner's voice dropped to a murmur, almost tender. "See? Even without fear, he still trusts me. Maybe that's enough for now."
"Or maybe," Talia said, watching them, "he's just waiting for you to remember why you needed it."
The Diviner smiled faintly, stroking Stonefang's mane. "Then I suppose I'll just have to keep him close until I do."
Stonefang gave a low, content rumble—the sound of something ancient and loyal reclaiming its place beside her. He lowered himself to the sand, letting her rest her weight against him.
The Diviner seemed to relax a little, the tension easing from her shoulders now that Stonefang stood beside her again — his presence like an anchor in the drifting sands.
Still, something gnawed at the back of her mind.
"What do we do now, Talia?" she asked quietly.
Talia blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
"The soldiers," the Diviner said, glancing toward the weary line of armored figures in the distance. "They look to you to lead them. You have to guide them home. But we promised the Nyxir we'd save Foxglove. Our word is binding."
Talia hesitated. The Diviner was right — but there was more in her tone than strategy. Something unspoken. Something that sounded suspiciously like the aftermath of a kiss that neither had found the courage to name.
The soldiers were drawing closer, speaking in low voices, their eyes flicking between the two women. They were beginning to piece things together — the looks, the closeness, the strange, fragile tenderness that had taken root between their leaders. Then Stonefang shot up, a growl tearing from his throat. His ears flattened, teeth bared. A second later, a jet of sand burst from the ground, slicing through the air where Talia had just stood. She stumbled back, hand flying to her sword.
"What in the—"
Before she could finish, the soldiers reacted on instinct. Shields came up, swords flashed. They surged forward in formation, trained to neutralize threats before questions.
The Diviner moved faster.
She drew a sharp breath, her foot tracing a sweeping arc over the sand. A low hum trembled through the air before erupting outward — a shockwave of dust and grit that sent every soldier sprawling. The desert stilled.
"No!" she shouted once, her voice cracking the silence. "No one touches Stonefang!"
Her chest heaved. For a moment, she looked like the storm itself. Then, slowly, she turned back to her wolf, pressing a trembling hand against his massive head. His muscles quivered beneath her touch, lips still curled back in warning. But she didn't flinch.
"Calenelda—" Talia began, taking a cautious step forward.
The Diviner flinched at the name, but didn't look up.
"Just go," she said softly. "Lead them home."
Talia froze, something sharp twisting in her chest.
The Diviner's next words were barely audible.
"Just go, if you don't want me."
Then she turned away, climbing onto Stonefang's back. Neither looked back as they disappeared into the dunes, leaving behind the scattered, bewildered soldiers — and Talia standing amid the settling dust.
Stonefang traveled through the day, sun cutting across the endless horizon, the Diviner on his back. Her magic had yet to recover; her body ached with every movement, her thoughts coming slower than usual. Stonefang bore her weight without complaint, though his gait was slower now, his breaths heavy.
"Everything feels fuzzy," she murmured, squinting into the heat shimmer. "That's new."
Her lips curved in a weary smile. "Are we getting closer?"
Stonefang only sighed — a sound too human in its resignation. He was smart for a direwolf but even he didn't know what he was looking for. Everything here looked the same: the desert's eternal sameness of gold and silence.
"A ruin, boy," she said, resting her cheek against his neck. "We're looking for a ruin." A soft sigh followed. "I don't even know what it looks like. How can I expect you to find it for me?".
When the sun began to bleed into dusk, she gave up and dismounted by a lone boulder jutting from the sand. The desert wind had cooled, and she sank down beside Stonefang, her back to the stone. She let out a long, heavy sigh — the kind that scraped against her ribs. Then gave a long, frustrated shout that echoed far over the now ashen gray dunes. Nothing answered. Only the raspy, drawn out hisses of the Draveth gliding over a fallen camel in the distance. The Diviner was one of the few humans who could distinguish their sound from actual vultures. While the two coexisted, feeding on the same carcasses, the Draveth were humanoid and lived in small packs. Larger and smarter than their smaller animal kin. The only difference was that they could not sustain prolonged flight, where the vultures could.
Confident that they were neither dead nor dying, the Diviner curled up in Stonefang's flank and tried to get some sleep. Which had been increasingly hard after the ordeals in the temple. Talia didn't help either. Her constant shift between acknowledging and denial kept mulling through her thoughts. She made her feel like she was on top of the world one minute, and dropped her down a bottomless well the next.
Her fingers found Stonefang's fur and started running through it. Even if he needed time to accept her change, the beast accepted her presence. That was enough for now. He rested a paw in her lap as if saying, you're still my human.
The next morning came slower than usual. Movement had improved a little for the Diviner. It was amazing what a night's rest could do for the body. Having Stonefang near her to help root her had helped loads. The Diviner focused on the distant dunes. The Draveth were still there. She grounded herself and tested if her magic had somewhat recovered.
"Still fuzzy." She muttered under breath. "Looks like I still can't guide us." A sway of her foot trailed a gust of sand. "Geomancy is slowly coming back though."
Stonefang only gave a soft rumble. He had never seen his human deplete her magic resources so much that she could hardly use it. It still showed. She looked tired, her movements were sluggish, like every step she took weighed double as much. Still, pride kept her upright. It also kept her from admitting she needed help.
In the distance, the Draveth noticed her weakness and circled closer. Though as long as the direwolf was with her, they knew they were physically outmatched. After a few more miles of aimless wandering through seemingly endless dunes, frustration got the better of the Diviner and she outed a loud scream. The kind that came from deep inside and carried almost all the way to Tan'Thalon and dragged the names off the entire pantheon of the Gods through the dirt. She ended by stomping her foot down as hard as she could. With all the loose sand there was no risk.
To her surprise she was met with a patch of solid sand. For a short distance she could feel her surroundings again.
"Stonefang?" She uttered with a surprised look.
The wolf only met her look with a gaze that seemed to say "Don't look at me. I didn't do anything."
She wiggled her toes a little. "Hmm, it still feels like sand." A tap of her other foot. "It IS still sand. Just solid." That got her thinking. "What if…"
She tried to focus through her exhausted haze. Stonefang pushed his snout into her back, almost causing her to lose balance. He was met with a comforting hand.
"I know. I won't exert myself too much. Don't worry."
Her stance widened as she slid into her familiar praying mantis style. Her hands formed hooks. The next step she took grounded her. Her eyes now focused. A flicker of something in the distance. She stepped back and lifted one foot, before swinging her arms overhead in a circular motion as she stepped forward again. Solid. Grounded. There.
She turned to Stonefang again. "There's a large ruin a day to the east."
The direwolf lowered himself, almost laying down, as if saying "Hop on then and show me."
Stonefang was in full galop, crossing dunes and navigating patches of loose sand with relative ease. This was after all the environment he lived in and knew how to navigate. The recovering Diviner on his back dug deep in his fur. She crawled up so that her face almost touched his ears, running a hand over his head.
"Easy boy." She whispered softly, yet commanding "I know I said I wanted to save Foxglove but I don't want you to push yourself so hard."
At that, Stonefang slowed to a light jog. That was when he first noticed the red hue in the distance. The shift in the sky going from the blue of day to an ominous red. He didn't know how to describe it because he was a wolf, but he knew that it meant Sandstorm. A small one judging from the size of it. Unnatural. The Draveth weren't capable of generating enough force with their wings to create something like this. They could barely manage to get enough updrafts to fly, that was why they preferred high perches to glide. Nor did they have the tactical knowledge to create sandstorms. It meant one thing. Draconians. He knew these descendants from the dragons of old meant trouble in the desert, where food was scarce. To them, he and the Diviner looked like grilled pork served on a platter.
The Diviner had noticed it too.
"Don't worry." She said, wearing that reassuring grin. "I can take them."
She was met with a low rumbling coming from deep in Stonefang's throat. His way of saying "No you can't. Not like this."
The Diviner rolled her eyes, then gave a deep sigh. "You start to sound like her, you know." She sighed again. "Talia… Next you know, you'll run off too."
She tried to get him to go towards the sandstorm, but he proved to be just as stubborn as her and didn't move an inch. He knew where she wanted him to go to.
"Stonefang.. I'm sure you can feel it too." The diviner scratched his ear. "There is another remnant there. Where they are."
She climbed up further so that she could bring her face equal to his. He was met with two milky green eyes staring at him, upside down. Even if the act itself was pointless due to her blindness, she wanted to make a point.
"It can't be left to do as it pleases. What if it too sucks people in and takes their hopes and dreams?"
Stonefang let a deep growl escape. Although he wasn't there when it happened, he felt she was missing something. There was a reason why she suddenly acted so brash. He just knew it. If the temples had something to do with it..
"We have to save her. Have to save Foxglove. That Nyxir gave his life so that we could escape and live. I gave him my word."
The giant wolf contemplated this. He knew the Diviner's tricks to get him to do things. In a way it reassured him to see her use her old tricks. It meant there was still some of her old self in there. He took a first, reluctant step. Maybe if they fought together, as they always had before, they'd stand a chance. Though he was worried about two things. The Diviner's magic reserve hadn't been restored yet, and would their teamplay still be as effective with her change? He had quite a complex mind for a non humanoid predator. He knew the Diviner's mind was as hard to move as a wall. No, that wasn't entirely true. He could move a wall. Once she had her mind set on something, there was no moving the Diviner.
They soon found themselves at the edge of the sandstorm. It became clear that this one was artificial as it was nowhere near as fierce as the one she had burned herself out on, trying to shield the patrol. To Stonefang it looked more like a sort of mist, but made of sand. Designed to cloud something from vision more than actually destroy things. They were close enough to make some of their surroundings out and saw that they were just a few yards away from what looked like yet another half buried town. From the looks of scattered bones of dead animals, and possibly humans, around them, the place had been in ruins for quite some time already. The Draveth knew this and followed them up high, riding the thermals of the desert. The Diviner couldn't see them, but she sensed their presence, along with a few Draconians scouring the abandoned buildings. Even though they also had wings, these descendants of the dragons of old were far too heavy to fly or even glide like the Draveth could. A fact that surprised neither Stonefang nor the Diviner. They could both see, through different ways, that even the smallest of them was still at least a full head taller than the largest human they knew. Stonefang lifted his muzzle from the dunes and tasted the air. Heat. Stone. Ash. Beneath it all lingered the scent of scales baked beneath a merciless sun. The draconian walked upright along the edge of the ruins, towering above the scrub and rock. To the wolf's eyes, it seemed less like flesh and more like a piece of the desert itself that had decided to move. Copper-red scales flashed beneath the sunlight like embers hidden beneath cooling ash. Its wings unfurled briefly. They were not the wings of a hunting bird or soaring dragon. Though with the size and build of the draconian it was painfully clear why they couldn't fly. They did serve a purpose. The wings spread wide like dark sails, drinking in the day's heat. The thin membranes glowed faintly amber where sunlight passed through them, and the air around the creature shimmered with heat. Stonefang knew it meant danger. The Draconian walked like a mountain crossing the sands. Each footstep settled with certainty. Its tail swept behind it, heavy and deliberate, leaving grooves in the dunes. Horns curved backward from its skull like polished obsidian blades worn smooth by centuries of wind. The wolf's ears flattened. The Diviner ruffled his fur a little, observing through her own means.
"Everything has a weakness." She whispered to herself. "Even they do. We just need to find it."