Seti's credit, they were all gathered outside the gates just as the first edge of the sun broke over the horizon.
The morning wind was sharp dry and biting. Tugging at their cloaks and rustling the hems of their clothes.
Each of them sat astride their own camel. Camels that Seti had secured and prepared meticulously for the journey ahead. At a simple gesture from him, the caravan began to move.
Amara rode with effortless poise, her back straight, guiding her camel with practiced grace.
Behind her, Dark followed in silence, his hood drawn low over his face. Caspian found it a little strange how completely he concealed himself but said nothing.
Malek, on the other hand, was half-reclined on his camel, treating the animal more like a moving bed than a mount. The image was almost comical.
Seti rode beside Caspian, his presence steady and grounded as ever.
As they moved, their pace gradually increased until the city gates fell behind them. Beyond the walls lay an endless sea of sand stretching in every direction.
By midday, the sun was high and unforgiving. Its heat bore down on them with relentless intensity, and the effort of riding under it made every movement feel like a trial. Caspian could feel the sweat gathering at his hairline, sliding down his face, soaking his back. His clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin.
They rode in silence.
The only sounds were the soft, rhythmic thuds of camel hooves against the sand, the occasional grunt from one of the animals, and the ever-present whisper of wind. Time lost meaning in the brightness. Everything blurred into the golden dunes and the endless shimmer of heat.
Every now and then, Caspian glanced at Seti, who remained as he always was eyes fixed ahead, posture unmoving, carved from stone.
"When are we stopping? I'm hungry," Malem's voice cut through the quiet without shame.
He maneuvered his camel until it rode almost perfectly beside Seti.
"The next checkpoint is about three hours from here," Seti replied in his usual flat tone.
"I can't wait three hours," Malem whined, dragging out the words dramatically.
"One thing about me I need food to keep going. I need the fuel."
"We stop at the next checkpoint, which is..."
"about three hours from here," Malem finished in a mocking imitation of Seti's voice, overly deep and rigid.
Caspian blinked.
He was impressed Malem didn't seem remotely afraid of Seti, nor discouraged by his serious demeanor.
"I think we should stop too," came Dark's soft voice, so quiet it felt like a whisper directly into Caspian's ear. He had turned slightly toward them, yet his face remained hidden beneath the hood.
Caspian realized their pace had slowed to a steady trot. Amara was still leading, calm and silent.
"See? Even the creepy guy agrees," Malem said, pointing a finger toward Dark.
Without a word, Seti urged his camel forward until he was ahead of them all. Then he turned in the saddle, eyes sharp.
"Our mission is bound to time. Caspian's life depends on it. How do you expect us to succeed if we're already disregarding the schedule?" His gaze lingered on Malem and Dark. It wasn't loud, but there was an edge to his voice clear, cold, commanding.
Malem glanced toward Caspian, looking abashed. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean "
"If you cannot keep up," Seti said, "I suggest you leave." There was something strangely compelling in the authority of his words. Something cold and beautiful. Caspian didn't know why, but he liked it. Malem looked properly chastised. As for Dark… Caspian couldn't read him at all. Silence fell again. They picked up speed.
And still, Caspian kept watching Seti from the corner of his eye.
They've left the city," he whispered into the glowing orb, its surface pulsing faintly with golden-blue light. His eyes remained fixed on the hazy silhouettes disappearing into the desert distance five figures riding camels beyond the outer gates.
There was a pause. Then a voice came through the orb, cold and smooth as obsidian.
"Your mission begins."
A breath caught in his throat. He didn't reply at first but then the words came, drilled into him until they were second nature.
"Remember what awaits you, if you succeed."
He straightened slightly, posture shifting into something like reverence.
"To serve the Tahran is our greatest honour," he and his brother said in unison.
The orb dimmed and cooled in his palm like an extinguished flame.
He looked over at his brother, whose face remained impassive under his hood, eyes shadowed. "What's the plan of attack?" he asked, voice lower now that the link was severed.
His brother didn't answer at first. He was staring out over the sand, toward the vanishing trail of footprints left by their targets.
"Mmhmm," came the vague reply. Then, as if shaken from thought, he pulled a tightly rolled map from inside his cloak and spread it flat against a nearby rock.
"They'll likely stop here for the night," he said, tapping a spot in the dunes with a calloused finger. "It's the nearest known camp point along this route. Shallow dunes, some cover. Water source nearby, if they know where to look."
"So… we wait until they've made camp?" he asked, eyes flicking between the map and his brother's expression.
His brother nodded. "We follow. Watch. Observe who guards the perimeter, how they move. This won't be the real strike it's a test. A gauge of what we're dealing with."
He hesitated. "then?"
His brother smirked faintly. "Then we learn. And next time, we don't test we kill."
He began pulling objects from his satchel smooth dark stones inscribed with ancient runes, each one humming faintly with power.
"The talismans," he said. "The Tahran gifted them to us for this mission. Tonight, we use them"
He reached into his cloak again and retrieved a tightly sealed scroll, its edges scorched faintly as if touched by fire.
He unrolled it carefully.
There, inked with precision, was a portrait. Regal. Sharp.
"Remember our instructions," his brother said softly, tracing the image with his finger. "We don't attack them all. Not yet. We target him. We draw him out."
Prince Caspian Soren.
Their true objective.
"And know this brother" his voice suddenly stone cold. "Failure is not an option"
And under the burning desert sun, they began to move.