Kena trudged beside Hope, her boots crunching on the dry, cracked ground.
The fire birds were long gone, their bright red and orange feathers no longer lighting up the sky.
But her skin still felt hot, like the flames had left a mark on her.
She wiped her hand across her forehead, brushing away sweat that stung her eyes.
The golden city loomed closer now, its tall walls shining bright under the strange purple sky.
She could see it better with every step, but time was slipping away from her—she could feel it deep in her bones.
It was like sand falling through her fingers, and she couldn't stop it. Still, she was too tired to care much right now.
Her legs ached, and her whole body felt heavy, like she was carrying a big rock on her back.
"We need a break," she said, her voice rough. She wiped more sweat from her face with the back of her hand. "My legs hurt bad."
Hope glanced over at her, his iron mask glinting in the dim light.
The mask covered half his face, making him look hard and mysterious.
"There's a village ahead," he said, his voice calm and steady. "We can stop there for a bit."
"Good," Kena muttered under her breath.
She pulled her green cloak tighter around her shoulders, the fabric soft but worn from days of walking.
She followed him, her boots dragging a little as they moved along.
The path twisted through a small patch of trees, their leaves silver and sharp like little knives.
The air around them grew quiet—too quiet for her liking.
There were no birds chirping, no wind rustling the branches—just the sound of their footsteps crunching on the dirt.
It made her feel uneasy, like something was watching them.
After a while, they reached a clearing, and Kena stopped short.
A village sat there in front of them, small and still, like a picture frozen in time.
Houses made of rough stone and old wood lined a dusty dirt street, but no one was moving.
No smoke curled up from the chimneys into the sky.
No voices laughed or shouted in the air. The place felt dead, like life had left it behind.
"What's wrong with this place?" Kena asked, keeping her voice low.
She didn't know why, but it felt right to whisper here.
Hope stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The blade hung at his side, ready if he needed it.
"It's cursed," he said simply, his eyes scanning the empty street. "Look closer."
Kena squinted, trying to see what he meant. Then she noticed them—people were there, scattered around the village.
They were standing, sitting, or lying down, but none of them moved an inch.
A man leaned against a wall, his eyes wide open but blank, like he was staring at nothing.
A woman sat on a wooden bench, holding a basket in her lap, frozen like a statue carved from stone.
They were alive, she could tell—their chests moved a little, breathing slow—but they were asleep, trapped in some kind of dream they couldn't wake from.
"Cursed?" Kena said, her stomach twisting. "Like me?"
"No," Hope replied, shaking his head. "This is different. A witch did this to them."
Kena shivered, even though the air wasn't cold. "Why would she do that?"
"Don't know," Hope said, his voice flat. "But we can't stay here long."
Kena frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "We need food. Water. Something to keep us going."
She turned and walked toward one of the houses, her curiosity pulling her forward. She peeked through the open door.
Inside, a wooden table held a loaf of bread and a few apples, but they were covered in a thick layer of dust.
It looked like no one had touched them in years. "Gross," she said, wrinkling her nose as she stepped back outside.
Just then, a cold breeze brushed against her face, making her hair flutter. She turned around fast, and her breath caught in her throat.
A shape was floating toward them—a girl, pale and see-through, like a ghost from a story.
Her dress fluttered around her, even though there was no wind, and her eyes glowed white, bright and eerie.
Kena stumbled back, her heart pounding. "Hope!" she hissed, her voice sharp with fear.
He turned quick, his sword already in his hand, the blade gleaming.
"Who are you?" he asked the ghost, his tone firm.
The girl stopped, hovering just above the ground, her feet not touching the dirt.
"I'm Lila," she said, her voice soft and sad, like a whisper carried on the breeze. "This is my village. We're trapped here."
"Trapped how?" Kena asked, her heart still racing in her chest.
"A witch cursed us," Lila said, her glowing eyes dimming a little. "She was angry with us. She made us sleep forever. I died, so I woke up like this."
She waved a hand at her ghostly body, her fingers thin and faint.
Kena swallowed hard, her throat dry. "That's awful. Can we help you?"
Lila's eyes brightened again, like tiny stars. "Yes," she said, her voice lifting with hope. "Break the curse. Free them."
"How do we do that?" Hope asked, lowering his sword a little.
"The witch hid a flower," Lila explained. "A silver rose. It's down in the well. Find it, burn it, and we'll all wake up."
Kena glanced at Hope, her eyebrows raised. "A flower? That's all it takes?"
"Maybe," he said, shrugging one shoulder. "Curses can be simple sometimes."
Kena nodded, chewing her lip. "Okay, Lila. We'll try."
She didn't like ghosts—they gave her the creeps—but she felt bad for the village.
And maybe, just maybe, helping them would bring her some good luck. She could use that right now.
Lila pointed a pale hand toward a stone well in the center of the dirt street.
"It's there," she said. "But be careful. The witch left a guard."
"Guard?" Kena repeated, her stomach sinking.
But before she could ask more, Lila faded away, her glow disappearing into the air.
Kena sighed, rubbing her hands together. "Great. More trouble. Just what we need."
They walked over to the well, their boots kicking up little clouds of dust.
It was deep and dark, with a thick rope hanging over the edge, swaying slightly.
Kena leaned in, squinting down into the shadows. "I don't see anything," she said, her voice echoing a little.
Hope grabbed the rope and tied it around his waist, pulling the knot tight. "I'll go down," he said. "You stay up here."
"No way," Kena shot back, shaking her head. "I'm not waiting around for you to mess this up." She snatched the rope from his hands. "I'll do it myself."
Hope's eyes crinkled at the corners, like he was smiling under his mask.
"Fine," he said. "I'll hold the rope for you."
Kena climbed over the edge of the well, her boots scraping against the rough stone.
Hope lowered her slowly, the rope tight in his strong hands. The air inside the well smelled wet and old, like damp earth and forgotten things.
Her feet dangled in the dark, swinging a little as she went down.
Then she saw it—a silver flower glowing faintly at the bottom, its petals stuck in the thick, wet mud.
"Got it!" she shouted up, her voice bouncing off the walls.
She reached down, her fingers brushing the soft, cold petals. But then something moved in the shadows.
A snake—big and black, with red eyes that glowed like hot coals—slithered out of the mud, hissing loud and angry.
Kena screamed, her voice shrill. "Snake! Pull me up, now!"
Hope yanked the rope hard, pulling her up fast, but the snake lunged, its sharp fangs snapping close to her leg.
She kicked at it with all her strength, her boot hitting its head, and it fell back into the mud.
"Faster!" she yelled, her heart pounding like a drum.
Her hands closed around the flower, pulling it free from the muck.
Hope hauled her up with one last tug, and she scrambled out of the well, landing on the ground with the silver rose clutched in her fist.
The snake's hiss echoed up from below, loud and furious. Kena panted, her chest heaving as she held the flower tight.
"That was way too close," she said, her voice shaky.
"Good job," Hope said, his tone steady. "Now burn it."
Kena nodded, her hands trembling a little. She found a dry stick on the ground and rubbed it fast against a rock until a tiny spark caught.
She held the spark to the flower, and it burned bright, silver flames licking up into the air.
A loud wail ripped through the village, sharp and piercing, and the ground shook under their feet.
The sleeping people started to move. The man by the wall blinked his eyes, looking around like he'd just woken from a long nap.
The woman with the basket stood up slow, stretching her arms. Voices rose all around them, confused at first, then happy and loud.
Lila appeared again, her ghostly form glowing softer now, a big smile on her face.
"Thank you," she said, her voice warm. "We're free because of you."
Kena grinned, even though she was tired to her bones. "You're welcome," she said, brushing dirt off her cloak.
The villagers cheered, crowding around them with big smiles.
A man with gray hair stepped forward and handed Kena a small stone that glowed green, like a little piece of light.
"For you," he said, his voice kind. "It's luck. You earned it."
Kena took the stone, her eyes wide with surprise. "Thanks," she said, turning it over in her hand.
She looked at Hope, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Guess we're heroes now, huh?"
"Maybe," he said, his eyes crinkling again.
They left the village behind, the sound of cheers fading into the distance as they walked.
Kena held the glowing stone tight in her hand, feeling its warmth against her skin.
She felt stronger somehow, like a little piece of hope had settled inside her. She'd done something good—something real.
Maybe she wasn't so bad after all. Maybe she could keep going, just a little longer.