The departure from the relative comfort of Al'Jara was a stark reminder of the unforgiving nature of Solara's desert. The Iron Fists, now mounted on sturdy camels they had acquired after a shrewd bit of bartering, left behind the bustling oasis city, the vibrant colors of its markets slowly fading into the shimmering haze of the horizon. Before them stretched an endless expanse of sand, rippling like a petrified ocean under the relentless glare of the desert sun.
Preparations had been meticulous. They had stocked up on waterskins, learned the basics of desert navigation from a grizzled old merchant who claimed to have once stumbled upon the ruins of Azmar, and donned loose-fitting robes to protect themselves from the intense heat. The camels, their long necks swaying rhythmically, moved with a patient gait across the shifting dunes, their padded feet making surprisingly little noise in the vast silence.
The journey was arduous. The sun beat down with a relentless fury, baking the sand to an almost unbearable temperature. The air shimmered with heat haze, distorting the distant landscape and creating mirages that danced tantalizingly before their eyes. Thirst became a constant companion, each sip from their waterskins a carefully measured act of preservation.
Navigation proved challenging. The wind constantly shifted the dunes, erasing tracks and making landmarks unreliable. They relied heavily on the merchant's rudimentary knowledge of the stars and Borin's innate sense of direction. Elara's connection to the Silent Heart fragment, while providing a general pull westward, wasn't precise enough to guide them through the subtle nuances of the desert terrain.
They encountered little life beyond the occasional hardy desert shrub and a few scuttling creatures that vanished quickly beneath the scorching sand. The silence of the desert was profound, broken only by the soft padding of the camels' feet and the whisper of the wind. It was a silence that could be both peaceful and unsettling, a reminder of their isolation and the vastness of the world around them.
After several days of relentless travel, their water supplies dwindling, a sense of desperation began to creep into the group. The merchant's directions had been vague, and the endless sea of sand seemed to stretch on without end. Doubts began to surface. Had the old man been truthful? Was the Sunken City just a myth, a ghost story whispered around desert campfires?
It was Elara who offered a renewed sense of hope. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of fiery orange and deep purple, he felt a sudden surge in his connection to the Silent Heart fragment. It was stronger, more focused than ever before, pulling him towards a specific point in the distance, a subtle vibration resonating deep within his chest.
"That way," he said, pointing towards a seemingly featureless expanse of dunes to the west. "I feel it. It's… closer."
Trusting Elara's intuition, they changed course, urging their weary camels onwards into the deepening twilight. The air cooled rapidly as darkness fell, the stars blazing with an incredible intensity in the clear desert sky. The silence of the day gave way to the nocturnal sounds of the desert – the hoot of an owl, the distant howl of a jackal.
They rode through the night, guided by the stars and Elara's persistent inner pull. As dawn began to break, painting the eastern sky with streaks of pale light, a change in the landscape became apparent. The endless, rolling dunes began to give way to more broken terrain, with jagged rock formations jutting out from the sand like the skeletal remains of ancient giants.
And then, in the distance, shimmering in the heat haze of the rising sun, they saw it – or rather, hints of it. The tops of what appeared to be weathered stone structures, partially buried beneath the sand, their outlines softened by the shifting dunes. It was undeniably the remnants of a long-lost civilization, a city swallowed by the desert.
A sense of excitement mixed with trepidation filled the Iron Fists. They had reached the vicinity of the Sunken City of Azmar. The whispers of the south had led them to this forgotten place, and the promise of another fragment of the Silent Heart, and the potential dangers that guarded it, lay buried beneath the sands before them. Their arduous journey across the desert had finally brought them to their destination. The exploration of the Sunken City was about to begin.