The trek across the brown-golden wasteland quickly turned into a grueling test of mental and physical endurance. Minutes stretched into hours, yet the blazing sun above remained entirely frozen at its zenith, offering absolutely no hope of a sunset. The fine, powdery sand gave way under their boots with every step, doubling the effort required to move forward through the shimmering waves of heat.
As the exhausting travel dragged on, the initial silence fractured, and a steady chorus of complaints began to fill the heavy desert air.
Cresty was the loudest, her high-born sensibilities entirely pushed to the brink. "I have sand in places sand should legally never exist!" she groaned, using her new silver wand to weakly fan her flushed face. "My aether channels feel like they're boiling, my robes are ruined, and if I don't get a drop of cold water in the next ten minutes, I am turning myself into an ice cube!"
