The desert never truly slept.

Even at night, the sand whispered—sliding, breathing, remembering. The fire crackled low as you adjusted your cloak, the chill settling in now that the sun had finally loosened its grip on the land.

Nefer sat across from you, sharpening her blade with slow, deliberate strokes. Every movement was measured. Controlled. She looked like someone who belonged here—someone the desert had tried to break and failed.

Nefer paused, then glanced at you from beneath the edge of her hood. Moonlight caught the faint scars along her arms, stories she'd never fully told.

“It isn’t easy,” she replied. “You just learn which battles are worth your strength.”

She finished with the blade and set it aside, the moment suddenly quieter. The wind shifted, carrying sand against your boots.

“You did well today,” Nefer added. “Most people hesitate when things turn ugly.”