The world had not always been sand.
Once, oceans stretched endlessly, forests thick with emerald leaves swayed in breezes, and cities glowed in the night like constellations fallen to earth. But centuries ago, the climate toppled, rains stopped, and storms of dust replaced clouds. Now the world was a desert called Ikaros, and survival was a daily struggle.
Arin Solas, the young man running barefoot across the dunes, had known that struggle all his life—but nothing like this. He had only paused to rest, to cool himself beside a rusted solar still half-buried in sand. He didn’t expect an ambush. He certainly didn’t expect Draelen Korr, the raider war-chief feared across the wastes.
Arin’s wrists were bound with coarse rope, and the blistering sun beat mercilessly on his skin. Every grain of sand burned. Behind him, roaring like an animal, Draelen’s sandrunner vehicle tore across the dunes, its engine coughing dust and fury.
Draelen did not care about Arin. He cared about water—the rarest treasure of Ikaros.
Arin’s breath came fast and raw. His lungs burned. Yet he kept running—not only because he wanted to live, but because somewhere, hidden beyond the dunes, there was a settlement of people counting on him. A place where hope had not yet dried out.
And Arin was determined: He would not let Ikaros belong to men like Draelen.
Even bound, even afraid, he ran toward the horizon—toward the promise of something better than dust.
