The second day in the desert felt like a curse wrapped in sunlight. Ashen woke before dawn, though it was hard to tell if it was truly morning—the sky held no promise, only an endless, pale blaze. Sand clung to his cloak and hair, but he shook it off without complaint.
The others rose with groans and mutters. Lin looked worse—her limp had grown more severe. Kerr offered her half his water ration without hesitation.
"Thanks," she mumbled. "You'll probably regret that."
"I regret everything," Kerr grinned, forcing a cheerfulness that didn't reach his eyes.
Reynor stood apart, arms crossed. His polished armor was now dulled by sand, and his face had lost some of its usual smug sharpness. "Let's get moving," he snapped. "No point in dying sitting still."
They resumed their march across the dunes.
The mirage returned by midmorning.
It started subtle—distant buildings, too perfectly symmetrical to be natural. Then they shifted. Ashen saw something impossible: the outline of a mountain range that didn't exist in this region.
"I'm seeing it too," Elira said softly, falling into step beside him. "It's not just a trick of the heat."
"No," Ashen replied. "It's showing us something."
"A memory?" she asked. Her tone was joking, but her eyes were not.
Ashen didn't answer.
Far ahead, Reynor halted, staring fixedly at something no one else could yet see.
"Do you… hear that?" he said.
They all stopped.
There was no sound except the wind.
But then, slowly, faintly, came a voice. Deep. Mocking. Familiar only to Reynor.
Ashen couldn't make it out, but Reynor's fists clenched. "It's him."
"Who?" Sera asked.
"My father," Reynor growled. "This is a joke. A hallucination. They're testing us with illusions."
The others exchanged glances, worried.
Reynor turned abruptly and stalked off without warning, heading straight toward the flickering mirage. Elira moved to stop him, but Ashen held out a hand.
"Let him go. Just for a moment."
The group watched as Reynor marched across the dunes, toward the illusory towers that only he could truly see. For a while, he walked with purpose. Then his pace slowed. His steps faltered.
And then he dropped to his knees.
Ashen squinted. Something was standing in front of Reynor. A tall figure in noble robes—blurred and shifting with the heat. It leaned forward as if whispering. Reynor's shoulders trembled.
When he returned, he didn't speak. His expression was blank, jaw clenched tight.
They walked in silence for hours afterward.
---
By midday, the heat became unbearable. But it wasn't the sun. It was something deeper—an internal pressure, like guilt pressing down on their bones.
Then it was Sera's turn.
She stopped, blinking rapidly, her lips trembling.
"I saw my brother," she whispered. "He was… standing in the fire. Smiling. That's not possible. He died when I was six."
"It's the mirage," Elira said. "It's pulling things out of our heads. Memories, regrets, fears."
"Not just pulling," Ashen said. "Feeding on them."
That caught everyone's attention.
"What do you mean?" Kerr asked.
Ashen hesitated. He didn't have proof. Only instinct. But it was growing clearer. The mirages weren't just illusions—they were alive in some way. Or connected to something that was.
"Whatever it is