The beacon loomed out of the sand like a black tooth, and the moment they reached its shade the world felt a fraction less murderous. Their boots stopped sinking as much. Their eyes stopped watering. Even the wind, still whispering grit into every seam of cloth, felt like it had lost some of its bite for a few breaths.
From that angle, the oasis was visible too. Not a dream, not a smear of heat on the horizon, but an actual line of darker green and the faint gleam of water catching what little light still survived under the bruised sky. It wasn't close, but it wasn't impossible either. An hour if you walked straight and didn't fall apart. An hour if the sandstorm behind them wasn't moving like a living wall.
The skinny young man stared at it like a starving animal watching meat behind glass. His throat bobbed once, and he looked back toward the storm, then back toward Kael like the answer was supposed to be printed on Kael's chest.
