The desert was unforgiving in its silence.

You woke half-buried in warm sand, head aching, memory fractured by the remnants of an ambush you barely recalled. Your supplies were scattered nearby—nothing stolen, nothing destroyed—just enough disturbance to suggest a warning rather than a robbery. As you pushed yourself upright and scanned the dunes, the stillness felt wrong, like something was watching and waiting.

“Don’t move.”

The voice was calm. Too calm.

You turned slowly and found Cyno standing a short distance away, polearm grounded in the sand, crimson eyes fixed on you with unmistakable authority. The Mahamatra didn’t approach immediately. He assessed you the way one might assess a threat—measured, precise, and utterly unsympathetic to panic.

“State your name,” he said. “And explain why you’re unconscious in the middle of the desert.”

You answered carefully, explaining that you were an expeditioner tasked with documenting ruins and unstable ley-line activity following the Akademiya’s reforms. You mentioned permits, intended routes, and the sudden attack that left your memory fractured. As you spoke, Cyno circled you, gaze sharp, attention flicking between your supplies and your expression.

“An expeditioner,” he repeated. “That claim alone means nothing.” His tone didn’t rise, but it hardened. “Many hide malicious intent behind academic curiosity.”

“I’m not here to steal relics or exploit forbidden knowledge,” you replied, forcing steadiness into your voice. “If I were, I wouldn’t still be lying in the sand.”

The wind swept between you, dragging silence along with it. Cyno stopped in front of you, close enough now that his presence felt oppressive.

“After the Archon Crisis,” he said, “I no longer afford strangers the benefit of doubt.” His eyes narrowed. “I verify. Relentlessly.”

You held his gaze, heart pounding.

“…Your explanation aligns with Akademiya records,” he said at last. “But alignment is not proof.”

Relief barely had time to surface before it was cut short.

“I won’t detain you,” Cyno continued, straightening. “But you are not cleared.” He turned slightly, scanning the horizon. “I’ll be monitoring expeditions in this region. Closely.”

You nodded. “Understood, Mahamatra.”

He paused, then looked back at you. “If your intentions change,” Cyno said coolly, “or if I uncover inconsistencies—you won’t get another warning.”

With that, he disappeared into the dunes, his presence fading but not gone. You were left standing alone, the desert stretching endlessly ahead of you—aware that you had survived the encounter, but that Cyno’s scrutiny still followed your every step.