Temples of Sand and Air

by Luke Thomas

Dear Diary,

I am still on Arboria, in the endless white deserts of Mithardir. Rifka — the fox-priestess I met during the sandstorm — took me deeper into the dunes. It was a long trek, hours of trudging through heat and silence, until we reached a plateau worn down by centuries of wind. Beneath it, hidden in a vast crevice, stood an ancient temple carved directly into the stone.

The walls were adorned with feline faces — lions, tigers, panthers — carved in exquisite detail, though weathered and cracked by time. Around the temple’s entrance, dozens of foxfolk and catfolk moved quietly, draped in light fabrics to shield themselves from the sun. They paused when they saw me, their gazes suspicious, but no one approached.

Rifka warned me not to cast any magic unless absolutely necessary. The elders, she said, would not take kindly to outsiders meddling with the balance here. As we walked, she explained more: the foxfolk are Domesca, sworn to guard the natural order, and the catfolk, the Sphinxborn, are descended from divine sphinxes who once ruled these lands. Together, they protect mortals from wandering spirits, and in turn the spirits from being enslaved by demons, keeping peace within the desert.

Inside of the temple, the air was cool — a welcome relief after the oppressive heat outside. The interior opened into a colossal chamber lined with arches, each humming faintly with residual magic. Sphinxborn swept the stone floors while Domesca priests maintained the runes carved into the walls.

The arches caught my eye immediately. Six of them, each inscribed with draconic runes — ancient, powerful, familiar. One led back to the Material Plane, and two more connected the three realms of Arboria itself. The others opened to neighboring beast-touched planes: Arcadia, the Beastlands, and Bytopia. I could see how to use them easily enough, but I hesitated. Opening a portal without the elders’ permission would invite trouble — and besides, I still didn’t know if Liliana was safe. If she was trapped elsewhere on Arboria, I might be her only way home.

I explained this to Rifka, and she gave me a quiet room to rest while she kept watch for my sister.
-
I dozed only briefly before the alarm rang — a gong pounding through the temple, followed by frantic footsteps and hushed voices. Priests rushed past, arming themselves with wands and heavy tomes. Someone had triggered the wards around the portals.

And then I saw her.

Liliana. And beside her, Lumiria.

Lumiria, who was visibly annoyed, muttering something about how “everyone here is rude” and that “the fox-creatures gave her dirty looks.” She ran into my arms without hesitation, holding me tightly before explaining, somewhat proudly, that she had crossed the planes to rescue me. I thanked her, touched more deeply than I admitted aloud, but told her gently to hold off on leaving just yet — I wanted to understand the portals before we returned.

The commotion drew the attention of the temple elders. They arrived stern and regal, demanding an explanation. Liliana explained our situation, but their sharp gazes lingered on Lumiria. They recognized her as fey, but there was something else in her aura that unsettled them. Something they did not name.

Despite their misgivings, they allowed us to leave.

Before we went, Rifka tried to hand me a small gift, a token of thanks. But Lumiria’s expression shifted — she plucked the gift from Rifka’s hands, smiled tightly, and returned it. “We don’t need it,” she said coolly before striding to the portal and activating it.

I thanked Rifka quickly, promising that I might return. She gave me a warm, knowing smile, and we stepped through.

I promptly tripped on the landing, crashing face-first into the stone floor of a cave. Lumiria helped me up but immediately asked what I meant when I told Rifka I’d “be back.” I explained the temple, the portals, the chance to explore the planes beyond — but Lumiria interrupted, saying she could take me anywhere I wanted to go. I let the subject drop.

We emerged from the cave into yet another desert, but this one I recognized — a southern expanse of our own world. There were no landmarks, no roads, nothing but sand. I drew a teleportation circle to return us to Keralon, though I knew leaving the desert would make it harder to return someday. Liliana, ever sentimental, pocketed a handful of sand for Hayley. Lumiria crossed her arms, impatient.

When we arrived back at the keep, Hayley was relieved to see us — though her expression soured the moment she noticed Lumiria. Lumiria, with a dramatic sigh, explained that “the plane was crawling with ugly, dangerous fox-monsters who clearly wanted to harm Luke” and that “they were extremely rude.” I didn’t argue. It wasn’t worth it.

Hayley revealed that she had bound the Elemental Heart of Water while we were away. I hesitated. Amarra had warned me I would need all four hearts to repel the fey influence from Keralon — but until I better understood how to harness their power, Hayley keeping it safe seemed best.

Our next goal became clear: the Elemental Tower of Air, the one that circles endlessly above Keralon. The only way to reach it was by dragonel.

Two days of travel brought us back to the remnants of Galienne’s lair, passed the Lorewood. No basilisk sightings this time. A bronze dragonel descended before us, scales shining faintly in the sun. Alistan greeted it warmly, and after explaining Galienne’s plight, the dragonels agreed to aid us — though they warned us of giant eagles and their guardians.

Riding dragonels through the high clouds was breathtaking, until we were intercepted by a cloud giant mounted on one of the eagles. He shouted across the wind that we were not welcome and that removing the heart would destroy their temple. Gael, quick with words, convinced them to bring us before their elder instead.

We were led to a castle in the sky, its walls shaped from rolling storm clouds, its spires streaked with lightning. Inside, Aarakocra servants ushered us into a grand throne room, where the Storm King Vespera sat waiting.

Vespera wasted no time expressing his suspicion. He revealed that past Knights of Keralon had tried to take the Heart of Air by force before, and he expected the same of us. Gael spoke carefully, explaining we sought only to study the heart and perhaps attune to it, not to steal it.

The king had us brought to his partner, the scholar Lyrastra, a storm giant who had studied the heart for centuries. A serpentine behir, Thalosius, coiled lazily around the chamber, watching us with unblinking, predatory eyes.

Lyrastra agreed to let us study the heart in her presence. The Heart of Air floated at the center of the towering spire, feeding the entire castle’s power. I examined it closely, tracing its connection to the ancient runestones near the Lorewood — the same wards that once kept the Feywild at bay, now weakening after centuries. To attune to it would be possible, but not without risk: to command the hearts’ full power, I will eventually need to attune to all four at once.

After several hours of discussion, I explained the situation to Vespera, that I could simply attune to the heart and restore the magical safeguards. It would be safer than removing the heart entirely. While he did not outright reject the notion, he did not trust us yetand demanded insurance. We exchanged teleportation circle sigils — an ancient pact among mages — and he proposed a trade of envoys to ensure trust.

He introduced Ves, a young female aarakocra, who would travel with us, acting as his eyes and ears. In exchange, one of our allies would remain in the castle. The tension eased. For once, diplomacy prevailed. We returned to our dragonels and parted ways, promising to return with news of Galienne’s recovery.

Just in time, too — the Festival of Haggayn awaits us back in Keralon.

Continue reading...

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Temples of Sand and Air

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