As they approached the campsite, Lyra and Alex immediately noticed that something was wrong. No one was sitting by the fire. The tracks in the sand looked like they had been deliberately erased, and the only proof that someone had been there were the three camels tied to stakes driven into the ground.
— Do you think they saw us? Lyra whispered, gripping her dagger.
Alex frowned, staring at the darkening horizon.
— Possible... but that doesn't mean we're backing off.
At that exact moment, a sound came from behind—a soft rustle of sand, as if someone had suddenly moved.
Lyra turned instantly, ready to fight. Alex also shifted into a defensive stance, though he had no sword at hand.
From between the rocks emerged a man in richly decorated but worn robes, followed by two guards in leather armor with their hands resting on their weapon hilts.
— Well, what do we have here? the merchant spoke with a broad smile. His eyes sparkled with intelligence, but there was something predatory, something insincere in his grin. Travelers sneaking into my camp... or perhaps runaway slaves?
Lyra and Alex exchanged glances.
— We are not slaves, Alex replied firmly.
The merchant raised an eyebrow and stepped closer.
— Every runaway would say the same, wouldn't they? His voice was smooth, almost friendly, but his gaze remained cold and calculating. In these parts, escapees don't have many options... aside from death or returning to their owners.
— We're not runaways, Lyra repeated, her tone icy.
The merchant tilted his head, as if weighing her words.
— Travelers, then? His eyes fell on their poor equipment. These aren't the best times for wandering alone.
— We're not looking for trouble, Alex added, ignoring the merchant's provocative tone.
— Ah, but trouble found you, the merchant chuckled softly, then nodded toward his guards. You didn't think we'd just let you go, did you?
The guards immediately flanked them, cutting off any path of retreat.
— Maybe your owner will pay a good price to have you returned... and if not, we can always find another use for you.
Alex laced his fingers together, ready to fight.
— You're starting to annoy me.
— Oooh, a fighter, the merchant mocked. Let's see how much that honor is worth once you're shackled and chained.
Lyra growled quietly and took half a step to the side, preparing to strike.
— If it's a fight you want... she muttered, gripping her weapon tighter.
The merchant sighed theatrically.
— Ah, they always choose to fight. Well then—your choice.
He nodded, and his guards drew their weapons.
One of the guards immediately lunged at Alex, swinging a short sword. The blade sliced through the air, narrowly missing his face. Alex dodged just in time, avoiding the blow, but his opponent didn't let up. Another swing forced him to retreat further.
Lyra had more space to maneuver. Her opponent launched a quick thrust, but she dodged and countered immediately. Her dagger slashed across the guard's arm, cutting through the leather armor and leaving a deep, bleeding wound.
The man snarled, ignoring the pain, and swung widely.
Lyra blocked the blow with her forearm, but the force of it shook her entire body. Before she could jump back, the guard punched her in the stomach. The air was knocked out of her lungs, and she stumbled backward, coughing.
Alex was fighting desperately. The guard was keeping him on the defensive, each strike landing closer. Eventually, Alex misjudged—his opponent's blade sliced his arm, leaving a bleeding wound.
He clenched his teeth, ignoring the stinging pain.
As the guard prepared for another swing, Alex ducked at the last second and struck the man's wrist, throwing the weapon off balance.
That was enough.
He lunged forward, slamming into the man with his shoulder. The guard staggered back—
Straight across the protective barrier.
Before he could scream, the darkness came alive.
Demons pounced on him like ravenous beasts. Claws tore through his flesh, ripping skin and organs apart. He shrieked, but his cries were drowned by the furious howls of the creatures.
Alex managed to wrench the sword from the guard's hand before the man was consumed by the shadows.
Meanwhile, Lyra was still fighting. Her opponent had managed to knock her down and was pinning her to the ground, pressing her wrists into the sand.
— Got you, he snarled, leaning over her.
But Lyra wasn't about to give in.
She headbutted him square in the nose. Bone cracked, and blood splashed onto her face. The guard screamed, loosening his grip.
That was her moment.
She reached for her dagger and drove it deep into his neck.
The guard's eyes widened in shock, and a guttural sound escaped his throat. Blood gushed from the wound in a thick stream, soaking his chest and her face. He tried to speak—but it was too late.
His lifeless body collapsed onto her, warm blood spilling down her arms.
With effort, she shoved the body off and gasped for breath.
Her eyes met Alex's.
Only the merchant remained.