Amorana

Sunlight streamed through the tent flap onto Arian's face. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he looked around for Zinarphil—but his master was nowhere to be found. He stepped outside to search.
"Mmm... is that chocolate? Master? Where are you? Helloooo?"
"What's with all the shouting so early? Kid, I may be old but my ears still work better than yours!"
"Ah! Master! Where were you? What's that in your hand?"

«So what is this?! Your birthday gift—since today this little monster came into the world? You're eight now, and time to head to your real home. I'm exhausted!... Don't laugh, kid, you really wore me out. Take your gift—I'll pack our things, then we leave.»

«Yes, Master. But I don’t... know anyone else besides you! ...Alright, alright! Why’d you hit me? ...Lemme see the gift!»

Arian eagerly unwrapped the gift. Inside the box lay a pair of black gloves—dark as the deepest chasm, yet visibly battle-scarred, their leather creased by countless wars.

«Master... did you fish these from your bottomless pack?»

«Yes—and they belonged to your father. A warrior, like you. An Amplifier. With these gloves, he ripped out Tarentis' heart barehanded.»

«Tarentis?! That rare beast from the books?! The one with six legs and a scorpion’s lower half, that twisted humanoid torso—not quite human but... almost?! Even the illustrations terrified me! Thank you, Master. I’ll keep these forever.»

«Good. Now hurry—we must reach the desert. Remember: never use these gloves until your power meets the minimum threshold.»

«Whatever you say, Master.»
Arian and Zinarphil resumed their journey. As they traveled, Arian ran his fingers over the gloves—gifts that stirred visions of the father he’d never seen—while channeling mana into the enchanted egg from Calustia, willing it to hatch.

Along the way, strange creatures emerged: long-tailed lizards and sand-cats—beings woven into the desert’s fabric. They trailed the travelers like silent guides, their presence whispering "the desert is near"... until vanishing at the wasteland’s edge, as if swallowed by the dunes.

Nearly a month passed before they reached the Amorana Desert—infamous as the Endless Sands or Desert of Death-Lovers. Throughout the journey, Zinarphil had schooled Arian on its grim history.
«See, Arian? Amorana’s simplicity is deceptive. It’s leech-like—ceaselessly expanding. This desert lives. Stay vigilant.»
His claw traced scars in the sand. «Countless battles stained these sands. Like the duel between two Elves—rivals for a maiden’s heart. They called it the Battle of Hearts. Hence...»
A dust-devil spiraled nearby, whispering forgotten screams. «...this graveyard earned its name: Desert of Death-Lovers.»

«Wow, Master! It’s breathtaking—the sands shimmer goldener than gold! Look at that lizard! Where’s the danger here? Feels more like paradise for explorers! See how the sun melts into the dunes, flattening the horizon?»

«Beautiful? Yes. Deceitful? Absolutely.» Zinarphil kicked a cascade of sand. «This desert’s a trickster. Lures guests in, then tests their worth. Those with mental fortitude and powerful purpose? It releases. The weak?» His eyes hardened. «Dries them out like forgotten roots.»

«Whoaaa! That’s creepy! Maybe... we head back? We’ve seen the desert—had our fun!»

«Hearing the truth, Arian bolted—but Zinarphil conjured a ring of wind beneath him, hoisting him airborne before hurling him deep into the desert.
«Welcome to your first trial, boy!» Zinarphil’s voice boomed across the dunes. «Remember this: when the world lacks purpose, create your own. Don’t fret... I’m watching. Just try not to die!»
Arian stared at Zinarphil’s taunting grin, eyes bulging. A thousand curses screamed silently in his mind. Yet he surrendered to fate. When he crashed onto the sands, he lay there awhile—gazing at the pitiless blue sky.

«Hmm... so warm and soft here... perfect for sleeping. Wait—where’s that snake-teacher Master?! MAAASTEEEER!!!! ...Gone? What am I supposed to do?!»
Arian scooped sand helplessly. «Sand everywhere I look—how did I even get this deep?»

The desert’s test had begun. It had drawn him in, probing his worth. Hours bled away, yet Arian remained rooted—staring blankly at the ground as wind hissed through dunes like sinister whispers. Shadows stretched like grasping hands as sunset came unnaturally fast.

«I-I’m scared... Why is no one here? Maaaster?...» His voice frayed. «It’s cold... so dark... Master...?»

Arian kept calling for Zinarphil—only silence answered. The desert’s darkness deepened until the horizon became pitch-black, endless as the depths of the Thalaris Ocean...
Something twitched in his pocket. He froze—then realized it was the enchanted egg from the capital. Once metallic-black, its darkness now surpassed even the desert’s. It pulsed violently, as if reacting to the wasteland’s malice or Arian’s despair.

«Don’t worry, kid. I’m here...»
«WHAAAAAT?! Who’s ‘here’?! That voice—in my HEAD?!»
«Why scream? It’s me... the egg. Well, the being inside the—»
(voice suddenly cuts off)

«Hey! Why’d you go silent?! Since when do eggs TALK?! ... Enough! Gotta find this damned trial. But how?»