The Landing

"Pull your hood up," one of the men ordered as Caelia peered past them, entranced by the sight ahead.

She obeyed, raising her hood slowly without tearing her eyes from the scene before her. The warm, rich melodies that drifted across the sands filled her with unexpected excitement, easing the tension that had gripped her. Just looking at the distant fires felt like a remedy for the desert’s chill. As they moved closer, she noticed the air really was growing warmer. Caelia began pondering the anomaly, wondering if the many torches spread their warmth farther as they reflected off the sands.

Ahead of them rose a massive stone slope, gradually curving upwards like one of the towering dunes. They followed a narrow valley between tall sand walls, inching closer to the base of the village, where Caelia could now make out a staggered layout of stone houses interspersed with large tents. At the settlement’s entrance, enormous stone wings arched overhead, creating a majestic gateway. The sight was enchanting, casting shadows that danced in the torchlight and adding an otherworldly allure to the place.. The exotic scents of unfamiliar spices and foods filled the air, making her mouth water; she hadn’t eaten all day, but she suspected the tantalizing aromas would have made her hungry even on a full stomach.

“Where are we?” she whispered, wonder lacing her voice.

“Keep your head down,” the men barked. Caelia quickly lowered her gaze, though she couldn’t resist stealing glances at the fascinating scene ahead.

“You would call it ‘The Landing,’” the other man sighed, turning to speak to his companion, clearly avoiding her questions.

They reached the base of the slope and pulled the wagon to a halt, ordering her out. She slipped down, careful to keep her hood low, though she couldn’t help glimpsing the vibrant surroundings as they climbed a gradual incline. The music grew louder as they reached a broad intersection, where people bustled with food and drink in hand, and a few danced beneath a remarkable pavilion. The structure was made from thick, ornate glass, casting an illusion of ice amidst the desert’s sands—a magical, welcoming oasis under the cold night sky.

Just as she stole another look, a hand pressed gently on her head, directing her gaze back to the ground as they continued up the slope. She caught sight of an enormous stone building looming from the highest point, an expansive structure lined with pillars and framed by an immense, open doorway.

As they approached it, Caelia’s pulse quickened. Her suspicion that the mysterious stranger held significance among these people seemed all but confirmed. It was strange—he paid these men to bring him the women they found, only to send them back. Everything about this encounter was foreign, wrapped in mystery she barely understood. She’d heard rumors of these tribes, that they thought of themselves as non-human, and gifted with magical powers. But she was old enough to hold such ideas at arm’s length, though she resolved to tread carefully around their customs. His comment about her being ‘pure’ echoed in her mind. Did he mean untainted? Perhaps he’d perform some ritual or blessing before letting her go.

Inside the building, Caelia was surprised. The space was not the dark, cool interior she expected from a stone structure in the desert; instead, it radiated warmth, almost as if the walls themselves glowed. Lanterns lined the walls, each one crafted from oversized, ornate glass and polished brass, casting a warm light that reached into every corner.

Gold-colored metal adorned everything—covering the walls, forming intricate ornaments, and even shaping statues that lined the hallway. One statue in particular, a detailed golden dragon, caught her eye, its scales shimmering under the lights. But her escorts pressed forward, giving her no time to linger.

Was it brass? Perhaps some copper too, though it seemed unlikely; that much copper would be a fortune, a luxury even for royalty. As her traveling companions led her down the lavish corridor, Caelia's gaze stayed mostly trained on the patterned carpet beneath her feet, but she caught glimpses of large glass windows and the astounding view they offered.

They approached another grand door, and she heard a mix of lively music, murmuring voices, and tempting food scents, even richer than those outside. A woman passed by, carrying empty glasses, her sweet perfume lingering as she disappeared down the hallway. Her captors stopped at the doorway, where a stern-looking man blocked the entrance.

“We come to offer the Draken what he has requested,” the tall man declared firmly.

The doorman paused, his gaze lingering on Caelia through her hood, assessing her silently. Then, with a brief nod, he murmured, “Wait here,” and slipped inside. Caelia and her escorts moved aside, and as the two men muttered quietly to one another, she discreetly peered through the doorway.

Inside was a circular chamber that might have easily been mistaken for a tent. The ceiling was draped with layers of fabric that cascaded from the center, to the walls and then the floor, creating a soft, dreamlike atmosphere. She caught a sliver of the room past a sheer white curtain: firepits glowed at scattered points, their warmth illuminating a floor strewn with piles of velvet cushions. An opulent brass chandelier dominated the center of the ceiling, its light refracting off an array of gilded ornaments, casting a rich glow that filled the room.

She had only a split second to glimpse the room before the curtain drifted back into place, just as a pair of eyes met hers—a piercing, molten gold gaze that snatched the breath from her lungs and locked her in place. It was him, the stranger from the estate, reclining casually on a nest of pillows, his powerful, sculpted torso still bare, his bronze skin gleaming in the firelight like polished metal.