The escape felt endless. Lyra, seemingly unfazed, kept collecting wild roots and leaves along the way, tossing them into her pack. Her movements were swift and precise. She was used to life on the move, to surviving — Alex merely observed her, learning through clumsy imitation.
At one point, he stopped, as if he'd heard something. The river murmured beside them. The sounds felt both familiar and alien — fragments of a dream, a whisper from another world.
He stared at the water for a moment, then reached out to touch its surface. And that's when he felt something new. Something that rushed through his body like a pulse. A shiver ran down his spine, and the skin on his arms trembled. In an instant, a faint greenish glow shimmered across his hands — just like it had one night before. Faint, barely visible, but real.
Slowly, he dipped his hand into the stream. The water reacted immediately. Its surface rippled, as if recognizing his presence. Light danced across the ripples, and Alex's eyes widened in awe. He had no idea how his body was producing this glow, and his mind struggled to grasp something that defied logic.
Faint, glowing lines appeared at the tips of his fingers.
Lyra, standing beside him, froze. Her eyes widened in surprise. She said nothing. She just watched in silence.
Alex reached again for the cold current. He touched the surface with his fingertips, and the water responded — a pulse of light rippling outward. It was impossible. He narrowed his eyes, trying to convince himself it wasn't a dream. Magic? Was it real?
What just happened?
He blinked, trying to steady himself as the glow slowly faded. Disbelief filled his gaze — and deep within him, a quiet, unsettling wonder.
Then, he noticed something else. The water's reaction stirred something in the nearby reeds.
"There!" he whispered, breath catching in his throat. He knew it wasn't a coincidence. It was a feeling — one of those rare instincts that had never failed him.
Across the river, dark figures slithered low to the ground. Rising above the water were broad backs and long, jagged jaws — crocodiles. But not ordinary ones — their skin was dark gray, almost black, and their teeth jutted out like blades.
The green glow vanished from his skin. He clenched his fists and stepped back sharply, no longer feeling that strange warmth in his hands.
"You never said you were a sorcerer!"
"In this world, power is hunted," Lyra said firmly. "You have to be careful who sees it."
Alex barely heard her. He stared at his hand, unable to pull his thoughts away from what had just happened. None of it made sense. No logic, no science — just that glow, and the feeling that something ancient had stirred inside him.
"It's impossible," he repeated in his mind. He shut his eyes and turned away. The glow had faded, but something lingered within him. A question that refused to go away. Was this what had haunted his dreams?
He stayed silent for a long time. Finally, he broke it with a quiet, unsure voice.
"How?"
Lyra hesitated. For a moment, she looked like she didn't know the answer herself. But when she spoke, her voice was calm and steady.
"Magic… is a rare gift. There used to be more of it, long ago. But now?" She shook her head. "There are only a few magi left. Those who have power can control the elements — fire, wind, water, earth. But they're hunted. People believe it was the magi who brought the demons into the world. That they started it all."
She paused, as if weighing her next words.
"But it's also fear. They're afraid of what they don't understand. Magic reminds them of the old times — of wars, of death. Anyone who reveals it puts themselves in danger."
She stepped closer, her expression serious.
"Don't show that power to any human. Not until you understand it. I…" she hesitated, "I'll try to help, if we make it to my people. We'll find someone who knows more. Someone who can teach you how to live with this."
Alex nodded, though his eyes still held more questions than answers.
They moved away from the river, heading toward the dunes. The further they walked, the more the desert seemed to swallow them — sand swirling around them like a shadow. Alex felt the hot grains sting his eyes and lips. He wrapped a cloth around his face to breathe and fell into silence, lost in thoughts about the power that had just revealed itself.
They marched all day, stopping only for quick sips of water. The desert showed no mercy. The sand was deep red, coiling around them like a living thing. The sun dipped toward the horizon, and the sky turned amber. On the distant edge, ruins came into view.
Alex felt tension prickling beneath his skin. As if something within him wanted to burst free. As if that power awakened by the river didn't want to go back to sleep.
The ruins grew closer with every step. Crumbling walls caught the last light of day. The remnants of structures jutted from the sand, etched with faint glowing runes.
They stopped.
"Here," Lyra said, her voice tired but firm.
She gathered some dry branches, while Alex circled the ruins. He found shelter by a partially collapsed wall, where old runes still gleamed faintly — protecting the place even after all those years.
They set up camp. The fire sparked slowly, hesitantly. Silence fell between them — not heavy, but peaceful. For the first time in a long while, it felt like they had left something behind. Like they were, if only briefly, safe.
Neither of them knew they were being followed. That in the distance, among the shifting sands, something still trailed them.