The plan was to leverage the very nature of the sand scorpions to execute a silent takeover. They would spread, unseen, beneath the dunes, gathering intelligence while Soraya's Nest birthed an endless, burrowing army. Once the scorpions had established a perimeter around the green oasis at the heart of the sand sea, that would be the moment to strike.

"I can feel it," Soraya's voice was a whisper in his mind, laced with an almost narcotic excitement. "The air itself is intoxicating. Orion, the intel was right. The Desert's Authority… it's real." The raw power saturating the desert was a siren's call to her, a heady perfume that promised dominion.

"And once we take this land," Orion replied, his own ambition a steady, cool flame, "it will all be ours."

As he spoke, their tiny vanguard delved deeper. It hit a minor snag—a Sandwyrm coiled in its subterranean lair—but Orion's reaction was instantaneous. A pulse of focused will crushed the creature's skull, providing the small scorpion with a much-needed meal before it continued its descent.

For seven days and seven nights, it dug.

Finally, the endless cascade of sand gave way to a solid shelf of bedrock. Here, deep beneath the surface, the influence of the Desert's Authority was at its weakest. This was the spot.

"Here," Orion commanded.

With a ripple of distorted space, a colossal Nest materialized from the void, its organic mass pressing against the ancient stone, a silent, alien heart injected into the depths of the world.

***

The Oasis of Pilan'g, The Mage Tower.

At the very center of the oasis, a single, crystalline tower pierced the sky. In its highest chamber, an ancient being's eyes snapped open, a flicker of confusion in their depths.

A severe energy fluctuation… from the deep earth? Is this broken world finally beginning to collapse?

As careful as Orion had been, the sheer energy required to teleport the Nest had not gone unnoticed. It had been felt by the Grand Magus, Faraday, the master of the Desert's Authority.

Fortunately for the invaders, he had misinterpreted the signal. To him, it was merely a symptom of the Godforsaken Land's decay, a geological groan from a dying world. The idea of an invasion never even crossed his mind. His senses, empowered by the Authority, scoured the surface of his domain and found nothing amiss. From his perspective, his control was absolute.

I'll need to make another journey outside this realm soon, he resolved. Find some artifact of stability to shore up this world. Another two hundred years… no, just one hundred, and I will finally ascend to the rank of demigod.

The thought of his impending ascension brought a serene smile to his face. He gently closed his eyes and sank back into his deep, centuries-long meditation.

***

The Oasis, The Citadel.

Below the tower stood a citadel, ruled by a man who was, in truth, merely Faraday's apprentice. Faraday was a creature of immense caution. Despite his dismissal of the anomaly, his last act before returning to his trance was to send a telepathic command.

"Novat. There was an energy spike in the Zephyrwind Wastes. Take a detachment and investigate."

The message found Novat pulled from a battle of a different sort in his private chambers. With a jolt, he disentangled himself, donned his mage-robes, and strode out into the palace courtyard.

"Guards! " he bellowed. "Muster the patrol! We ride!"

Though a mage, Novat was also a warrior, a hallmark of his people, the Pilanti—a race known for their powerful builds and distinct, upturned noses.

"My lord, the troops are assembled!"

"To the gates!"

With a chaotic flurry of activity, an army of over ten thousand soldiers surged from the oasis, their destination the Zephyrwind Wastes. They were not on foot. A legion of giant, Gold-Horned Vipers pulled massive sand-skiffs, their scales glittering in the sun as they slithered across the dunes with astonishing speed and agility.

"My lord, are we hunting big game today?" one of the captains called out over the hiss of the skiffs.

Novat was the city lord and the Grand Magus's chosen disciple. With Faraday lost to meditation most days, Novat was the de facto ruler of the sand sea, and his men were quick to flatter his two great passions: conquering beautiful women and hunting the colossal beasts of the desert.

The Pilanti had never sought to eradicate the desert's monsters. As long as they stayed clear of the oasis, they were allowed to breed, effectively turning the entire sand sea into their own private, continent-sized hunting ground.

"First, we're swinging by the Zephyrwind Wastes," Novat announced, his voice carrying an easy arrogance. "There's been some sort of energy surge in the area. We'll check it out. After that," he grinned, "I hear there's a massive Sand Dragon been spotted in the east. We're going to kill it."

He leaned back on his command skiff, gazing out at the howling, sand-choked horizon with an air of absolute ownership. This was his domain. His people's territory. Every time he looked upon it, a burning ambition swelled in his chest.

When the master finally ascends and carves out a new realm for himself, this place… this Authority will be mine, he thought. Then, I will be the true king of the sea of sand.

The thought of his glorious future made the desolate landscape seem beautiful. To command the wind and the sand, to wield the Authority, to slowly gather power until he, too, could touch the divine—it was a destiny he could taste.

"Praise to the Grand Magus! Praise to the Sandsea, the true and greatest home of the Pilanti!" he roared into the wind.

"Praise the Grand Magus! Praise the Sandsea!"

"Praise the Grand Magus! Praise the Sandsea!"

The chant was taken up by his men, a fanatical tribute to their absent master and the hero in their hearts.

With the hissing of the vipers and the cheers of the soldiers, the army kicked up a colossal cloud of dust, speeding across their personal hunting preserve.

High Above, in the Clouds.

Orion watched the procession slice a long, dark scar across the golden dunes.

Have we been discovered? They're heading directly for the scorpion tribe's new location. Is the Desert's Authority stronger than I anticipated?

He had watched them depart from the oasis, their course unwavering.

No… wait. He re-evaluated. If the one who controls this place was powerful enough to sense us through my own cloaking field, he would have sensed the field itself. He would have known something was hiding.

A new theory began to form in his mind.

So, he felt the energy from the teleport, but not its nature. He looked at the army again, at its size, its swagger. This isn't an attack. This is a probe. The strongest among them is only Legendary level. They're bait.

The logic was sound. He was certain of his conclusion.

Still, I need to warn Soraya. The horde can't be exposed. His gaze drifted back to the approaching army. Now… what to do with these guys?

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