The vessel spun wildly, its frame groaning as though it might tear apart. Screams filled the cabin, rising in pitch as flames licked through the corridors and loose objects became deadly projectiles. A jagged plank of wood broke free, hurtling across the chaos. It struck Jalem squarely in the back, his cry joining the chorus of terror.

  Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the ship steadied. The pilot’s voice cut through the din, taut with strain.

  “We’ve lost an engine. The Seventh is unreachable. We’ll have to divert to Reina.”

  Khater’s gaze swept the shaken travelers before settling on the pilot. His tone was calm, resolute.

  “Safety first. We’ll manage.”

  The pilot nodded, sweat beading his brow, and guided the vessel onto a floating platform suspended by anti-gravity coils. The travelers stumbled out, shaken but alive. Jalem, however, collapsed into a scream of agony.

  “My back… I can’t endure this pain!”

  Khater’s hand trembled as he drew a mirror from his pocket, whispering urgently to the wizard. Her reply was swift: she would send one of her Rams.

  Moments later, a Ram appeared, carrying a small box. She knelt beside Jalem, her voice soft yet commanding.

  “Hold on, dear. I am here to help.”

  Her touch was delicate as she cleansed his skin. Then, one of her nails elongated, reshaping into a needle. She dipped it into an antiseptic solution before opening the box. Gasps rippled through the group—the dragon flower shimmered into existence, its petals glowing faintly.

  The Ram sliced a fragment from the bloom, grinding it into a sparkling solution. With practiced precision, she immersed the needle and injected it into Jalem’s vein. His screams ebbed instantly, replaced by a drowsy calm.

  Khater’s voice was sharp with suspicion.

  “What is that? Where did you find such a flower?”

  The Ram’s eyes met his.

  “Do you recall the elderly woman at the wizard’s dwelling? She was bound by the dragon flower’s spell. We recovered it from her, and through study, discovered its antidotal properties —yet also its gift of easing pain. This will ease his pain for a few hours—but he must see the wizard. His injury is grave.”

  The group hurried to the wizard’s hall. After careful examination, the truth was revealed: Jalem’s spine bore a fracture, demanding long recovery.

  “You must remain here,” the wizard urged.

  But Jalem’s reply was fierce.

  “No. I must find my son. Pain or not, I will go.”

  The room erupted in protest. Khater’s voice rose above the others.

  “You’ll slow us down. You’re injured, broken. This journey will destroy you.”

  Jalem’s eyes burned with defiance.

  “If it were your child, you’d endure the same. I will not be left behind.”

  Silence fell. Khater finally asked, “Then may we take the Ram and the flower to ease his suffering?”

  The wizard’s sigh was heavy.

  “Very well. But only at night. Too much will dull his mind—or worse. The flower’s long-term effects remain unknown. Use it sparingly, or it may prove fatal.”

  Sativ listened quietly, her own memories of pain stirring. She had carried her scars silently, managing them with discipline. Jalem’s desperation struck a chord.

  Khater placed a hand on Jalem’s shoulder.

  “We’ll watch over you. We travel together. No one else will be lost.”

  The wizard’s parting words lingered.

  “Best of luck. The Rams will keep watch.”

  Their ship descended into the Seventh Frelam. The travelers disembarked, weary and ragged. Jalem reclined in an anti-gravity chair, his eyes half-lidded from the dragon flower’s lingering touch.

  The Seventh was dazzling—warm from its closeness to Solaris, its streets immaculate, its people adorned in silks and jewels. Khater and his companions, with their worn clothes and unkempt beards, drew stares like curiosities from another world.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Unease prickled through Khater.

  “Let’s find a place to camp. Tomorrow, I’ll seek the mayor.”

  As he spoke, a figure approached .A woman with tanned skin that gleamed like desert sand at dusk, clad in a shimmering black dress that clung to her form. She moved with the grace of a goddess, her presence magnetic, impossible to ignore.

  “My name is Hasad,” she said, her voice smooth as velvet. “May I travel with you? Solaris is setting, and I fear the night alone.”

  Khater, entranced, agreed without hesitation. The others exchanged wary glances, unsettled by the stranger’s sudden arrival. Yet none spoke against her. Perhaps it was her beauty, or perhaps the quiet sense that she was more than she appeared.

  Khater stepped forward, his voice steady but welcoming.

  “I’m Khater. Welcome to our group. Where are you headed?”

  The woman’s lips curved into a smile that was both alluring and unreadable.

  “I’m searching for my purpose.”

  Khater tilted his head, intrigued.

  “And what might that be?”

  Her grin sharpened, teasing, almost mocking.

  “It’s hard to put into words. I’ll have to show you.”

  Khater’s heart quickened, too captivated by her beauty to press further. What he did not know—what none of them knew—was that she was no ordinary traveler. Hasad was not human at all. She came from the Dark Reef, the same abyss that birthed the ghostly creatures. No expedition had ever returned from that place; its mysteries swallowed every soul who dared to enter.

  Unlike the phantoms of the reef, Hasad wore the mask of humanity. She was beautiful, radiant even, but her whispers carried poison. Jealousy, greed, hatred—these were the gifts she planted in the hearts of mortals. It was she who had kindled the sparks of Lumia’s downfall. Sinister, seductive, and made of fire itself, Hasad thrived on corruption. Those who fell for her charm were bound to her forever.

  Legends whispered that she had once walked the Earth. Some feared her, some tried to ward her off with the “evil eye,” but none succeeded. She had sown ruin there, pitting humans against one another until destruction consumed them. Now, her hunger turned toward Caber. Joining the travelers was her first step, and with her allure, refusal was impossible.

  As they walked toward a place to camp, Hasad’s gaze never left Khater. It was not affection—it was possession. He noticed her attention but dismissed it as infatuation, blind to the darker power behind her eyes.

  “Khater!” Sativ’s voice broke the silence. “Can we stop for the night? My back is troubling me.”

  Khater frowned. “Could you manage another hour? We’ll set up camp afterward.”

  Sativ nodded reluctantly. “I’ll try.”

  Hasad turned her gaze on Sativ, smiling with a hint of malice.

  An hour later, Khater called out, “Here. We’ll camp here.”

  They had reached a shimmering body of water, its surface glowing beneath the moons. The travelers busied themselves with tents and firewood, but Hasad remained seated, her eyes fixed on Sativ. Slowly, Sativ felt a strange warmth creep through her body. She looked up to find Hasad watching her.

  “Hi, Sativ,” Hasad said smoothly. “May I help you? You seem uncomfortable.”

  “Thank you,” Sativ replied, surprised.

  Hasad lifted heavy equipment with effortless grace, setting up a tent faster than three strong men could manage. Sativ’s admiration deepened—this goddess was not only beautiful but kind.

  Hasad stepped closer, her gaze locking onto Sativ’s. She swayed her head gently, her eyes drinking in Sativ’s memories—childhood, pain, trauma. Sativ felt exposed, yet entranced. When Hasad leaned in, Sativ closed her eyes, expecting a kiss. But Hasad frowned. With Sativ’s eyes shut, the flow of memories ceased. She stepped back, satisfied with what she had taken.

  “It’s getting late,” Hasad murmured.

  Sativ, disappointed, whispered, “Yes… we should rest.”

  Hasad busied herself with wood and tools, crafting a bed with unnatural speed. Sativ watched in awe, her infatuation growing.

  Night fell over Seventh. Waves whispered against the shore, and three moons hung in perfect alignment above. The tide rose dangerously close to the tents but stopped just short.

  Sativ tossed restlessly, her pain keeping her awake. At one point, she noticed Hasad’s bed was empty. “Perhaps she went for a walk,” she thought.

  Outside, Hasad stood beneath the moons, a diamond crown upon her head. Its three tips caught the lunar light, feeding her with energy. She closed her eyes, her plan sharpening—she would destroy the humans, step by step.

  When Solaris rose, Hasad returned in her shimmering black dress, her head partially veiled. She carried a staff, tapping it against the ground. A tray of pastries appeared, fragrant and golden. Another tap conjured steaming coffee and fruit juices. The weary travelers rejoiced, delighted by the feast.

  Hasad searched for Khater and found him alone in his tent, staring at a picture of his son, sorrow etched across his face. She savored his pain like nectar.

  “Hello, master,” she whispered.

  Khater looked up, startled. “You can call me Khater.”

  She approached slowly, like a predator stalking prey.

  “Come and taste Seventh’s finest baked goods.”

  Khater nodded. “I appreciate it. I’ll join shortly.” He hesitated, then asked, “Will you be leaving us today?”

  Hasad’s eyes gleamed as she answered, her voice dripping with seduction.

  “My journey is long. Traveling with a group helps me reach my… purpose. My destination.”