Page 77 of New World

Mei lifted her gaze, amusement flickering in her dark eyes. “Would I be here if it wasn’t?”

Dorane chuckled, the sound deep in his chest. “Point taken.”

They reached the outer landing where the skidders were parked beneath a curved overhang, shielding them from the worst of the rising heat. The sleek airbike was matte black, its surface dusted with fine, golden sand. It was built for speed and endurance, its double-seater frame designed for long journeys across the unforgiving desert terrain.

Dorane slid his rifle blaster off his shoulder, securing it in its sheath on the side of the skidder before glancing toward the high wall of the settlement. He could sense menacing eyes watching them.

Zoak.

The Turbinta assassin was out there, hidden in the shadows, waiting. Mei felt it too; he could see it in the way her fingers flexed at her sides, the way her weight shifted slightly as if preparing for an attack that wouldn’t come—not yet.

Good. Let him watch. Let him stew, Dorane savagely thought.

He swung a leg over the skidder, gripping the handlebars before offering his hand to Mei. She slid her hand into his and climbed on behind him with practiced ease, settling onto the smooth leather. She sat back against the padded seat, within easy reach of a second rifle blaster. She would provide coverage should they need it along their trip.

In minutes, they were past the settlement walls, the desert swallowing them whole.

The air was dry, but not unbearable, the desert stretching endlessly before them in golden waves of shifting sand. The skidder sliced through the open terrain, kicking up a fine trail of dust as they navigated the winding road.

They were dressed for the journey—sand-colored garments made from a special material designed to repel heat and protect their skin from the abrasive winds. Their headgear shielded their faces from the fierce rays of the suns, while their goggles cut through the glare. Their breathing masks filtered out fine particles and helped regulate body temperature.

Dorane pushed the skidder to its limits, weaving through jagged rock formations and open dunes, the landscape a breathtaking display of nature’s artistry.

“The canyon up ahead is beautiful,” Dorane murmured through the commlink that connected them. “The rock contains a natural element only found on Aetherial. The walls were carved over thousands of years by sand and wind, shaping the stone into waves. The minerals within create the colors.”

Mei leaned slightly to the side, observing as they passed through towering canyon walls streaked with rich shades of red, violet, gold, and deep indigo. Light filtered through the narrow gaps, casting brilliant shafts of color across the ground.

“It looks like the stone is glowing,” she murmured, her voice filled with wonder.

Dorane smiled. “It is. The minerals refract the sunlight, changing as the suns move across the sky. My mother used to bring me here when I was a child. She said the canyon was alive, always shifting, always speaking—if you knew how to listen.”

Mei was silent for a moment. Then, softly, she said, “She was right.”

Dorane’s grip tightened on the controls.

“I wish you could have met her,” he murmured, his heart filled with a wistful sorrow.

“So do I.”

A half hour into the journey, they pulled into a shaded alcove at the base of a cliff, the overhang offering protection from the harshest rays. Dorane cut the engine, the silence of the desert settling around them like a living thing.

Mei slid off the skidder first, stretching her arms before unsealing a storage compartment and pulling out a canteen. Dorane did the same, taking a long drink before sitting on a rock ledge.

“We’ve given Zoak enough time to reach the village,” Mei noted, pulling down her mask.

Dorane wiped the sweat from his brow, nodding. “He’ll be expecting us. His focus is entirely on us now.”

“On me,” Mei corrected, lifting the canteen to her lips.

Dorane studied her for a long moment. Then, without a word, he reached into the second storage compartment and pulled out the Gallant Staff.

Mei’s eyes widened slightly when she saw what he was holding. The Staff was crafted from a rare, dark alloy, inlaid with fine silver filigree. It was smooth and balanced, yet deceptively sturdy. Symbols of the Gallant Order ran along its length, etched in a language far older than the stars themselves.

Dorane ran his fingers along the engravings before offering it to her. The cool metal hummed faintly under his touch, the symbols alive with history.

For a moment, he could almost hear his mother’s voice.

“The Staff is not just a weapon, Dorane—it is a promise. A burden, if you let it be, but also a guide. It will teach you, if you are willing to listen.”

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