The sands of the Zarath Desert shimmered under a merciless sun, waves of heat rising from the dunes like a mirage, twisting the horizon into a blur of gold and amber. Jace Korran crouched behind a jagged outcrop, his leather duster snapping in the wind, goggles fogged with sweat and dust as he peered through the scope of his crossbow. The Crimson Vault—a legendary tomb buried beneath these wastes, its walls said to be lined with blood-red gold and guarded by traps older than the pyramids—lay somewhere ahead, its location marked by a tattered map he’d wrested from a dying smuggler in a back-alley brawl three nights ago. He’d crossed half the continent to get here, dodging raiders on rusted skiffs, outrunning sandstorms that could strip flesh from bone, and bartering his last flask of water for a guide who’d vanished at dawn, leaving only a cryptic note: Beware the serpent’s breath. Now, his scanner beeped faintly, a signal flickering through the static—something metallic, massive, buried beneath the next dune. Jace grinned, adrenaline sparking in his veins, and slid down the slope, boots kicking up clouds of sand as he sprinted toward the promise of fortune.
The dune crested, revealing a chasm gouged into the earth, its edges crumbling into shadow, a gaping maw that swallowed the sunlight. A rusted crane arm jutted from the sand, half-buried, its cables swaying like skeletal vines, and below it, a slab of stone gleamed—polished obsidian, etched with glyphs that pulsed faintly red, as if alive. Jace’s breath caught, the map’s final clue clicking into place: The door drinks the sun. He pulled a flare from his pack, struck it against his belt, and tossed it into the chasm—the crimson light flared against the stone, and with a groan that shook the ground, the slab slid aside, revealing a tunnel plunging into darkness. He checked his crossbow, its bolts gleaming with steel tips, and descended, the air cooling as sand gave way to smooth, cold stone underfoot, the faint echo of dripping water reverberating ahead.
The tunnel twisted, narrowing into a corridor lined with crimson-streaked walls, the gold glinting in his torchlight like veins of frozen fire, each seam whispering of wealth beyond imagining. But the silence prickled his skin—too still, too heavy, the kind of quiet that hid teeth. His boots scuffed against the floor, kicking up dust that shimmered in the beam, and a click sounded, sharp and metallic. He froze, eyes darting to a pressure plate beneath his heel, its edges etched with the same glyphs as the door. A hiss filled the air, low and menacing, and vents in the walls spat green vapor—the serpent’s breath, he realized, lunging forward as the gas billowed, acrid and thick, stinging his lungs. He rolled, crossbow clattering, and fired a bolt blindly at the ceiling—a mechanism snapped, and the vents slammed shut, the gas dissipating in swirling tendrils. Jace coughed, spitting sand and bile, and pushed on, heart pounding, the Vault’s promise pulling him deeper.
The corridor opened into a chamber vast enough to swallow a village, its ceiling lost in shadow, stalactites dripping with moisture that pooled in shallow basins below. At its center stood the Vault—a monolithic cube of crimson gold, its surface carved with coiling serpents, their eyes glinting with rubies the size of his fist, reflecting his torchlight in a thousand fractured beams. Jace circled it, fingers brushing the cool metal, searching for a seam, a lock, anything—but a rumble shook the chamber, dust raining from above, and the floor split, a platform rising with a grind of ancient gears. Atop it crouched a construct—a mechanical serpent, its body forged from blackened steel, scales clattering as it uncoiled, eyes glowing green with an eerie, flickering light. Its jaws parted, revealing fangs that dripped with the same venomous gas, and it lunged, tail whipping the air like a flail.
Jace dove, the serpent’s strike shattering the stone where he’d stood, shards flying as he rolled to his feet, crossbow raised. He fired—bolts clanged off its armor, sparking uselessly, and it reared, hissing, gas pooling at its base. He yanked a grapple hook from his belt, aimed for a stalactite, and fired—the line caught, yanking him upward as the serpent snapped at his heels, jaws closing on empty air. He swung, boots skimming the platform, and landed behind it, spotting a panel on its back—a glowing core pulsing with energy, exposed where scales had rusted away. The serpent twisted, tail lashing, and he ducked, the blow grazing his shoulder, pain flaring hot and sharp. Gritting his teeth, he leapt onto its back, clinging to its scales as it thrashed, and drove a bolt into the core by hand, twisting until it sparked and fizzled. The construct convulsed, green light fading, and collapsed, its coils slamming into the platform with a crash that echoed through the chamber.
Panting, Jace slid off, blood trickling from his shoulder, and approached the Vault. The serpent’s fall had cracked its surface—a seam split open, revealing a chamber within, piled with ingots of crimson gold, jeweled relics, and a pedestal bearing a single orb, its surface swirling with red mist, pulsing like a heartbeat. He reached for it, fingers trembling, but hoofbeats thundered behind him—raiders, their skiffs roaring into the chamber through a side tunnel, dust billowing as they leapt down, blades drawn, eyes glinting with greed. “Drop it, scavenger!” one snarled, a scar-faced brute with a machete, his crew fanning out, cutting off escape. Jace clutched the orb, its warmth seeping into his palm, and smirked—time to fight his way out.
He bolted, ducking a blade that sang past his ear, and fired his crossbow, a bolt pinning a raider’s hand to his skiff. The chamber erupted—steel clashed, shouts rang out, and Jace wove through the chaos, using the Vault’s bulk for cover. He snatched a fallen torch, hurled it at a raider’s fuel tank—the skiff exploded, flames licking the walls, scattering the crew in panic. He sprinted for the tunnel, orb in hand, raiders on his heels, their curses swallowed by the roar of collapsing stone as the chamber trembled, weakened by the blast. The tunnel narrowed, walls closing in, and he pushed harder, lungs burning, sand stinging his face as he burst into the chasm, the sun blinding after the dark.
Skiffs roared behind him—he vaulted the crane arm, sliding down its cable, and hit the sand running, the orb’s pulse quickening in his grip. His ship loomed ahead, a battered hovercraft half-buried from the crash, its engines coughing as he slammed the throttle. The craft lurched, lifting off, sand spraying as raiders fired, bolts ricocheting off the hull. Jace banked hard, dunes blurring beneath him, and glanced at the orb—its mist swirled faster, a map forming within, coordinates glowing faintly. He grinned, steering into the storm, the Vault’s secrets his at last.