Sakura hated sand.
She hated sandstorms.
She hated sand in her boots.
She hated sand in her clothes.
Most importantly,
She hated sand finding ways to appear in places that should have been physically impossible.
The Northern Expanse had become her personal enemy.
Unfortunately, the desert didn't seem to care.
Yet,she persevered.
The wind continued blowing.
The dunes continued shifting.
And Sakura continued walking.
At least she wasn't wandering anymore.
That was the important difference.
Every town.
Every caravan.
Every trading post.
Every oasis.
She asked the same questions.
Had anyone seen an artist?
A traveler carrying a sketchbook?
Someone who drew instead of writing?
Most people shook their heads.
Some offered vague stories.
A few remembered something useful.
None of it was enough.
Yet the trail existed.
Faint.
Scattered.
But real.
Which was more than she had possessed for years.
The town of Raqim was the latest stop on her journey.
Calling it a town was generous.
A cluster of sandstone buildings surrounded a single well.
Half the population seemed to be merchants.
The other half seemed to be travelers passing through.
Sakura sat beneath a cloth canopy, grateful for the shade.
A cup of cold water rested in front of her.
The greatest invention in human history.
She would not be accepting criticism.
The elderly shopkeeper laughed.
"You look exhausted."
"I am exhausted."
"Fair enough."
The old man nodded.
"Most people are after crossing the Expanse."
Sakura took another drink.
Then reached into her bag.
The sketch.
Despite being folded countless times, she kept it carefully protected.
The paper had become familiar.
Almost comforting.
She placed it on the table.
The shopkeeper leaned forward.
His expression immediately changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Sakura noticed.
Her heart quickened.
"You've seen this before."
The statement slipped out before she could stop it.
The old man blinked.
Then frowned.
"Maybe."
Maybe.
A dangerous word.
Yet better than no.
Sakura leaned forward.
"When?"
The man scratched his beard.
Thinking.
Remembering.
Or trying to.
"I don't know."
Her excitement deflated slightly.
Then he pointed toward the drawing.
"Not him."
Sakura paused.
"What?"
"The tree."
Silence.
The old man tapped the sketch.
"The tree."
Sakura looked down.
Behind the figure sat a large tree.
Something she had barely paid attention to.
She'd always focused on the man.
Not the background.
The shopkeeper continued.
"I've seen a tree like that."
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Sakura asked quietly:
"Where?"
The old man pointed northeast.
Beyond the town.
Beyond the dunes.
Toward distant rocky hills barely visible on the horizon.
"There's an old oasis."
His voice grew uncertain.
"I think."
Sakura froze.
"I think?"
The man grimaced.
"Sorry."
He looked genuinely annoyed.
"The memory feels strange."
That immediately got her attention.
Strange.
Just like Rowan.
Just like the missing locations.
Just like the forgotten city.
The old man rubbed his forehead.
"I know I've been there."
A pause.
"I remember the water."
Another.
"The cliffs."
Another.
"The tree."
Then he frowned.
"But I can't remember how I got there."
The words sent a chill through Sakura.
Because she had heard something very similar before.
The shopkeeper shook his head.
"Sorry."
"It's okay."
No.
It wasn't okay.
But it wasn't his fault.
Sakura carefully packed away the sketch.
Then stood.
The old man blinked.
"You're leaving already?"
"How far is the oasis?"
He thought for a moment.
"I'm not too sure but it's definitely more north..."
"...At most it would take two days to get to the oasis."
Sakura nodded.
Good.
Close.
For once.
Actually close.
The old man watched her shoulder her bag.
Then smiled.
"Looking for someone?"
Sakura paused.
Her hand drifted toward the velvet pouch tucked safely inside her belongings.
The two empty necklaces remained there.
Waiting.
Just as they always had.
She smiled faintly.
"Yeah."
The old man nodded.
As though he understood more than she had explained.
"Then I hope they're worth all this walking."
Sakura laughed.
A small laugh.
Tired.
Warm.
Certain.
"They are."
An hour later, she left Raqim behind.
The desert stretched endlessly ahead.
The rocky hills sat on the horizon.
Distant.
Waiting.
For the first time in months, however, the next destination wasn't based on a rumor.
Or a guess.
Or blind hope.
It was based on a memory.
A real one.
And somewhere beyond those hills, an oasis waited.
Along with whatever secrets it had managed to keep hidden from the world.