A single fire glowed in the middle of the dark desert wasteland. Gales swept across the terrain with gliding sands washing through the air under the moonlight. But this was no ordinary fire.
It burned straight, unphased by the constant winds. Around it stood nine figures, unmoving themselves as waves of grey sands whipped up and rained down around them. The flames illuminated their scorched faces, exposing wild, glazed and hungry eyes. An energy was brewing.
Some thought the tribes a myth, an inhuman spook story to ward others from travelling into these far deserts, home to nightmarish creatures and only the most hardened souls. The wind groaned as the nine began to move in sync. The flames snapped in response. Slowly they started to lift their arms.
The moon shone a sickly yellow brighter through clouds above. The flames danced higher. The tribe’s hands tremored and the fire under their gaze began burning more now with a ferocity, lashing gold shards over skulls and bones littered around it. The figures became more animated and the gold crushed into an incandescent emerald glow.
A small piercing sound muffled through the roar of the flames, quiet at first becoming clearer and distinct as a wail, growing into a faint scream of something trapped within.
The howling winds blew harder and faster as the sands gathered mid-flight blotting out the moon in a fog.
Nearby, a solitary individual stumbled towards them, fixated by the light.
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