Home of the Living Sands
The group pressed on, leaving the damp rot of the marshes behind only to be met by the blistering indifference of Zone B. They traversed a vast, undulating sea of sand dunes that seemed to stretch into eternity. With every step, the ground shifted treacherously underfoot, and the air grew heavy with an unseen, predatory threat. The silence here was different than the forest; it was a hungry silence. It didn't take long for the desert to reveal its guardians. The dunes began to churn, and from beneath the golden grains emerged creatures born of the arid waste: Giant Scarabs. Their carapaces were like polished obsidian, reflecting the harsh light with a dull, metallic sheen, and their mandibles clicked with a terrifying, rhythmic hunger.
"Look up! We've got company!" Arthur roared, drawing his blade as the first wave breached the surface.
The scarabs attacked with a hive-mind coordination. George lunged forward, launching arcs of wind magic to knock back the heavy insects, but their carapaces were built to withstand the abrasive desert gales. Flynn moved like a shadow between the dunes, his daggers dancing as he sought the soft joints in their armor, while Siri moved with a lethal grace, her aura-charged strikes cracking the obsidian shells of any scarab that dared get too close. Arthur's blade rang out as he swiped at the encroaching horde, but for every one he felled, two more rose from the depths.
"There's no end to them!" George yelled, his breath hitching as he narrowly dodged a snapping mandible.
They scrambled to find a weakness as the scarabs threatened to overrun their position, appearing from within the sand like a rising tide. In a moment of desperate experimentation, George summoned a spark of heat, concentrating his aura into a searing fireball. He launched it into the center of the pack. The effect was instantaneous; the scarabs shrieked and scurried backward, their obsidian shells clicking in a frantic retreat from the flames.
"Look! They're afraid of the fire!" George's voice swelled with relief. "Flynn, Siri, Arthur—use your fire magic!"
The group didn't hesitate, pivoting from defense to a coordinated fire-based assault. They funneled their collective aura into a concentrated barrage, creating a massive, roaring blaze that circled their position. The intense heat turned the sand to glass and forced the scarabs to burrow deep beneath the surface to escape the inferno. Seizing the opening, George and his friends bolted across the glowing dunes. As they escaped the scorched battlefield, George glanced down, his stomach churning. Half-buried in the shifting sand were the bleached, splintered remains of those who had come before—skeletons of failed candidates. Smaller scarabs crawled in and out of the empty eye sockets, a grisly testament to the fate that awaited anyone who let their fire go out.
"Keep moving," Flynn muttered, his face a mask of cold iron. "Just keep moving. We're not joining them today."