As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dunes, Gregory and Bryce reluctantly pulled themselves to their feet. The brief respite in the shade of the ruins had done little to truly rejuvenate them, but they knew they couldn't afford to linger.
"We should try to cover as much ground as we can during the night," Bryce said, his voice hoarse. "It'll be cooler, and we'll conserve more energy."
Gregory nodded in agreement, too parched to waste words. They set off once more, their feet sinking into the cooling sand with each step. The desert night was a stark contrast to the blistering day - almost uncomfortably cold after the intense heat they'd endured.
As they trudged onward, Gregory found himself disoriented by the sameness of their surroundings. In the pale moonlight, every dune looked identical to the last. He tried to use the stars to guide them east, as Bryce had taught him, but the constantly shifting landscape made it difficult to maintain a straight course.
Hours passed, and Gregory's exhaustion deepened. His legs felt like lead, and each step was a monumental effort. He glanced at Bryce and saw the prince was faring no better, his face drawn and haggard in the dim light.
When the first rays of dawn began to paint the sky, Gregory felt a surge of hope. Surely, in the light of day, they would see how far they'd come. But as the sun rose higher, his heart sank. The landscape looked virtually unchanged from the day before. The distant mountain range they'd spotted upon first entering the desert seemed no closer, and there was no sign of the grasslands or forests that should mark the desert's edge.
"Bryce," Gregory said, his voice barely above a whisper, "are you sure we're going the right way?"
The prince's brow furrowed as he scanned the horizon. "We should be," he replied, but Gregory could hear the doubt in his voice. "But something's... not right. We should have made more progress than this."
They pressed on as the day grew hotter, but Gregory couldn't shake the feeling that they were going in circles. Every dune, every patch of scrub brush, seemed familiar. Yet the sameness of the desert made it impossible to be certain.
As the sun reached its zenith, Gregory's steps faltered. His vision swam, the heat shimmering off the sand in dizzying waves. He stumbled, falling to his knees in the scorching sand.
"I can't," he gasped. "I can't go any further."
Bryce turned back, his own movements slow and unsteady. He reached down to help Gregory up, but his weakened legs gave out, and he collapsed beside him.
For a long moment, they lay there, panting in the oppressive heat. Gregory's mind drifted, and he found himself thinking of the strange woman they'd seen in the citadel. Had she been real? Or just a mirage, like the progress they thought they'd made across this endless sea of sand?
As his consciousness began to fade, Gregory had the unsettling feeling that they were caught in some kind of trap. The desert seemed to stretch on forever, defying the laws of nature and geography.
With his last ounce of strength, he turned his head to look at Bryce. The prince's eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. Gregory wanted to say something, to offer some words of hope or comfort, but his parched throat wouldn't cooperate.
As darkness crept in at the edges of his vision, Gregory's last thought was a desperate plea to whatever powers might be listening: Please, let this not be the end of our journey.
Then, mercifully, he slipped into unconsciousness, the unforgiving desert sun beating down upon them both.
