The cold of the desert night was bone-deep as Nick followed the trail left behind by the ambush party. Each footprint in the sand, each smudge on a rock face, felt like a thread pulling him toward a confrontation he wasn't ready for—but couldn't avoid.
He had only the stars, the burning ache in his arm, and the locket's cryptic inscription to guide him. Blood of the ancients. Key to fate's door. The words twisted in his mind like a storm.
Hours passed. The moon had begun its slow descent when Nick finally spotted it—an old smuggler's path winding up into the crags of the Sinai mountains. Tire tracks. Drag marks.
He was close.
Then, a whisper. A shift of air. Nick spun, fists clenched.
A shadow stepped into view.
Aisha.
"You should not be here alone," she said, lowering her scarf. Her voice was a mix of reproach and concern.
Nick didn't respond immediately. Too much had happened. Too many lies.
"Where were you during the ambush?" he asked flatly.
"I was following another trail. The Order wasn't the only threat that night."
Her eyes scanned the horizon, as if expecting someone else to arrive. "They took Hassan for a reason," she said. "He knows too much. But more than that… they want to break you, Nick."
Nick's jaw tightened. "They're too late for that."
Aisha stepped forward, withdrawing a piece of old parchment from her coat. "Your mother left more than one clue. This... was hidden in a Guardian archive in Luxor. It speaks of the Eighth Stone. And you."
He took the parchment, eyes scanning the lines. It was another riddle, tangled with celestial symbols.
And a name—Azariel—circled in ink.
Nick looked up. "What is Azariel?"
Aisha hesitated. "Not what. Who."
Nick stared at the name written in the swirling ink: Azariel. The name felt ancient—like it belonged to a different time, a different world.
"A person?" he asked.
Aisha nodded slowly. "A Guardian who vanished centuries ago. Legend says he was the first to understand the true nature of the Stones—and the only one to ever come close to unlocking the Library of Fates."
Nick traced the lines on the parchment, noting how the symbols echoed those he'd seen on the temple mural and again on the poetic map. "Why now? Why would this surface only after the attack?"
"Because your presence is awakening things long dormant," Aisha replied. "There are factions within the Guardians who fear what you might become. Just as there are some who want to guide you."
He looked at her sharply. "And which are you?"
A pause. The fire in her eyes flickered. "Ask me that after you find Hassan."
They stood in silence for a beat, the parchment fluttering lightly in Nick's hand as the desert wind shifted.
Suddenly, Aisha stiffened. "We need to move. Now."
"What is it?" Nick whispered.
She didn't answer—instead, she pulled him into a narrow rock crevice as the hum of an engine echoed through the valley. A vehicle crested a hill, headlights off, moving stealthily.
Nick recognized the insignia on the side: a black scarab.
The Order.
Aisha leaned in. "They've moved Hassan to one of their outposts. There's a narrow window before he's taken somewhere you won't be able to reach him."
Nick clenched his fists. "Then we're going now."
Inside the Order's Outpost
Dr. Hassan, bruised and bound to a chair, winced as another question was hurled at him.
"Where is the Eighth Stone?" the interrogator demanded, pacing slowly. He wore a dark crimson robe beneath his armor, the symbol of the scarab etched into a bronze clasp.
"I don't know," Hassan rasped. "Even if I did… I would die before giving it to you."
"You might."
Just then, the door slid open. A new figure entered. Taller. Cloaked. The others instantly bowed their heads.
"My Seeker," said the interrogator. "We await your guidance."
The figure, face obscured, stepped forward and examined Hassan. When he spoke, his voice was smooth, melodic, and cold.
"We don't need him to tell us. His student will lead us to it."
Rachel Kim's Surveillance Van
Rachel rewound the footage of Nick's encounter with Aisha. The parchment. The name Azariel. The symbol on his wrist.
She tapped her earpiece. "He's aligning with the Guardians. That complicates things."
The voice on the other end replied, "Let him. The convergence is coming, and we need him to believe he has agency. Just make sure he doesn't die before the eclipse."
Rachel frowned. "And if he finds the Eighth Stone first?"
A pause. Then:
"Then the game changes."
Night Raid on the Order's Outpost
Using Aisha's intelligence, Nick infiltrated the outpost under the cover of darkness. He moved like a shadow—slipping past cameras, disabling guards with swift, silent strikes. His body moved on instinct now, each motion sharper than the last, guided by something deeper than training.
Aisha provided cover, neutralizing lookouts and disabling the security grid.
They found Hassan shackled in a cold stone cell. Bloodied. Barely conscious.
Nick rushed forward, cradling the old man. "I've got you," he said. "We're getting out."
But as they turned to leave, alarms blared. Doors slammed shut. Red lights flashed. And from the far end of the corridor, the cloaked Seeker stepped into view.
"You know what you are," he said to Nick. "But you do not understand it yet. Soon, you'll beg us for answers."
Nick stood his ground, heart pounding, pulling a dagger from a fallen guard. "Then I'll bleed them from you."
The Seeker advanced. Their blades clashed—steel sparking in the flickering red light. But Nick was faster than he had ever been. His reflexes precise. His strikes instinctive. The pain in his arm vanished. The symbol on his wrist blazed suddenly, not just glowing—but pulsing.
A shockwave burst from Nick's body—knocking the Seeker back.
A surge of ancient energy flooded his limbs. Visions danced at the edge of his mind—echoes of something deep, vast, celestial.
The Seeker rose, stunned. "Impossible… You haven't been awakened yet…"
Nick's eyes gleamed—glowing faintly now with a pale golden hue. His stance shifted. Balanced. Primed. Power hummed through him.
He lunged again, striking with a force he hadn't known he possessed. The Seeker faltered. Aisha flanked the enemy, sending a bolt from her concealed weapon into the hallway wall, creating a breach.
Smoke. Fire. Chaos.
Nick pulled Hassan over his shoulder, and together, they vanished into the desert night.