Sander drifted amid the warren, unwilling and frustrated. He coasted into the dark. An unease gripped him, how long would he remain here in this state? A spec of light hung in the horizon. Sander reached out, hoping to gauge its distance. Was it growing? An orange ball of flames hurtled towards him. Sanders heart spiked as the globe passed through his spirit form. What was this place? This dream appeared so tangible. Sander tried to run his hand through his hair, he felt nothing. Everything was disconnected.
He floated into a lit chamber that was far more spacious than he would have anticipated for a burrow. An open ebony wardrobe caught Sanders attention. Meticulously ordered blades hung in the interior of the doors. Each one inscribed with the name Natheus. Leather belts, heavy boots and black clothes hung in precision. He inspected the weapons, appraising the guard’s regimentation.
A spark caught his attention. A blazing sun extinguished into mist as a male warrior emerged. Sander stomach clenched for a moment until he remembered he was incorporeal.
The warrior’s muscles flexed. A dark braid cording down his spine. Sander scrutinised every detail. Was he supposed to be learning something? He couldn’t quite remember. The male unsheathed his swords from his back and spun to Sander. Light fragmented off the two swords. He stood two feet taller than Sander. With weapons braced at his sides, he looked formidable. Gold cuffs glinted on his wrists. Sander chest tightened. He was in the lair of the Djinn’s. The warrior disregarded him as easily as the air. Returning his weapons to their posts.