Chapter 2: Sandbending

In the center of the world's largest continent, a land otherwise filled with blooming gardens, marshes, and meadows radiant with life, lay a barren wasteland known as the Si Wong Desert. It was a near-dead region of the Earth Kingdom that few dared to visit. Traveling between its settlements was practically impossible: finding water along the way was a pipe dream, and finding food that wouldn't kill you or lay larvae in your corpse was even harder.

This didn't mean it was entirely devoid of life; soldiers, mercenaries, and wanderers visited one of the settlements a few times a month. Merchants, however, made the local taverns their second home, bringing in a bounty of fruit and provisions; in many establishments, one could even order a refreshing cocktail made from succulent produce. I had seen many travelers since the day I was born, and I noticed a recurring detail: the desert dwellers looked far grimmer by comparison.

Despite the trappings of civilization like tasty food and drinking straws, only those strong in spirit and body could survive here. The daily heat and sandstorms were a form of torture for most, yet staying within the safe, cozy confines of the cities wasn't an option. Every adult was occupied with traveling between settlements to trade, find work, and provide for their families. Every child was expected to do the same upon reaching the age of maturity: fourteen. But...

Shurkh…

"Whew... ah..." I pressed my bandage-wrapped feet into the scorching sand as I approached the city gates. Sweat poured off my body in liters, and every breath of the searing air was agonizing. My lungs felt like they were bursting, and sand crunched between my teeth. Today, I had managed one extra lap; my stopping point was the village exit.

Above my head, a sign creaked with the name of our settlement: Misty Palms Oasis. Before me lay the boundless wastes; near the entrance, boys who had come of age were gathering for an expedition. They were ready to be of use to the settlement and fight for their lives against the harsh elements. They had all been training too, but only outside. I, in all my life, had never once stepped beyond the walls.

[Choose:]

[1 — Turn around and head back to training (You will receive significant development).]

[2 — Go drink fermented juice (You will remain in safety).]

[3 — Convince the other kids of your professionalism (You can try to form your own gang. Training time will decrease, but allies will have your back).]

[4 — Start a fight; kids often mess around like that (Exert yourself to become the local "Naked King." Relationships with your peers will become... strained).]

It was a subtle hint that if I went out in my current state, I would drop dead, if not instantly, then fairly quickly. That was why I had spent all this time training within the Oasis; or rather, I was forced to adapt to external conditions. Truthfully, there was nowhere to go anyway—without a sand sailor and a few warriors, you could at most wander around the settlement itself. But that didn't stop the local kids from mocking me.

"Dagoth’s too chicken to go out again!"

"I can already see how he’s gonna make a living when he leaves—he won't!"

Turning toward the hecklers, I saw them all tighten their fists. Some things never changed, even in a new life: punks for whom any "crooked" look was seen as an insult to their entire lineage, their pet, and even their friends. Heaven forbid you mentioned their parents in conversation, no matter the context, a fight would be unavoidable.

But that was their right. I wasn't out scouting the territory or studying the dangerous animals that roamed outside, which meant I wasn't trying to join their culture. I just trained, like everyone else. In a word: a slacker. I accepted every word thrown my way with the full realization that they were right. I could only retreat to my secluded spot, a sand-covered playground.

"Right, what are we developing today?" Leaning against the sand-buried iron bars, I addressed the air in frustration. To keep up with the other kids, I had to work a bit harder: a hundred push-ups, sit-ups, and squats, plus a ten-kilometer run, were just my morning warm-up. It was deathly exhausting, but it was my only shot at a decent future. To not have to look over my shoulder at every rustle, to have the chance to start a family. It was either this, or drinking fermented juice for the rest of my life.

[Choose:]

[1 — Develop Earthbending.]

[2 — Develop Sandbending.]

"...For real?" A smile finally touched my face.

For the first time, I was given a choice in elemental development. Yes, perhaps it was my only lucky break, but I had been born an Earthbender. Though, "lucky" was a stretch, it was probably the hardest element to develop as an underdeveloped child; I had to put in the physical work first. Running and lifting weights daily, all in savage heat on shifting surfaces.

It was all for this day. Except...

"Where am I supposed to find 'earth' in a desert?"

In this place, instead of the typical Earth Kingdom benders, there were their Sandbender cousins. This art was used by both honest citizens, who ferried workers between cities on sand sailors, and local bandits. And the methods of application, as the locals said, were also different—you didn't try to be as solid as a rock; you had to flow like water. With that combination of power and fluidity, sand turned into a deadly and highly unique substance.

But the drawbacks were proportional. To pick up and lift every single grain of sand individually and control them at high speeds, to create whirlwinds and fend off desert predators, required extraordinary control.

"I’m ready to train Sandbending." My heart fluttered with a certain anxiety; hoping it wasn't a blood clot, I stared into the air.

[Choose...]

[1 — Toil until morning, rubbing your hands bloody (Progress will be accelerated by your mental state).]

[2 — Practice for one hour, then use your grit to join a band of Sand Raiders (Progress will be accelerated by turning to the dark side).]

A heavy tension hung in the air. There was always an easier way—becoming a bandit meant taking the very easy path. Ensuring a life of luxury, eating well, and not breaking your back for pennies sounded wonderful; that’s why many benders chose that exact route. But all I had to do was conjure one image in my mind: the shadow I had once reached out to.

"Are you kidding? Even in my own world, I always turned down offers like that." I chose the first option.

[In that case, start pounding the sand with your bare hands.]

Anubis was heartless.

"Well... at least I can look forward to a tasty snack at home." Recalling the sweet, succulent fruit that kept me going during my regular workouts, I dropped to my knees. Wrapping the bandages tighter around my hands, I stepped onto the path of suffering with a bated breath. To know the sand, I had to give it my blood. For the first day, my movements were no different from any ordinary person's. The sand struck my hands, rose into the air, and flew into my eyes in retaliation for my clumsiness. Within minutes, however, I was sitting with my eyes blindfolded to better feel the feedback of every touch.

By morning, I had to change the blood-soaked bandages, rest, and then repeat it all over again. Over time, I began to grow accustomed to the grains of sand beneath my palms.

******

Accompanied by the quiet clinking of cutlery, dinner was laid out on the table. Fruit and dried scorpion meat, a typical meal for a poor family. While I held my fork with slightly trembling, bandaged hands, my father, Tassad, recounted the day's events with a disgruntled expression.

"My assistant fell under the sail today. The wind from a sand spout caught the moron, and he lost control, the boat ran him over and snapped his arm. I’m tired of them—if you can't steer, stay the hell out of the caravan." The perpetually serious, tanned man roughly cracked a scorpion's shell and sucked out the meat.

"How terrible," his wife, a woman already etched with wrinkles, murmured, covering her mouth. Despite my mother's understandable reaction, Tassad still fixed her with a heavy gaze. This man... was a gruff Sandbender. His look, his attitude, everything reminded me of myself, but he was genuinely harsh with everyone and generally kept his distance.

I can only recall two instances where he showed anyone any affection: shortly after my birth, when he held me in his arms, and a few years ago, when he called me over to watch him strike the sand with his palms, the very training I had inherited from him. I don't know if it was paternal love or if he was just showing off for his son, but the sight of the sand parting, waves spreading as if through water, was burned into my mind.

But most of the time, they remained detached. I wasn't a model son; I had nothing to brag about and no friends, yet I always drew my father's stern gaze, just like now, as he told his story and buried his former worker under layers of judgment. In moments like these, my mother tried her best to simply ignore what was happening.

I’m jealous... with an attitude like that, I’ll never get a wife. But even so, I had to give him credit—he wasn't a damn bandit.

"I won't be able to head out on the next trip either. A shame; they were supposed to pay one and a half times the usual rate." His gaze fell on my bandaged hands.

And at that moment...

[Choose:]

[1 — Offer to help your Father. Casually state that you’re better than his last assistant (You will gain the opportunity to leave the city with a protector. Your relationship with him will improve).]

[2 — Say nothing (Fruit will likely disappear from the table for the next week, leaving only dried scorpions).]

[3 — Offer to help your mother in the bar (You’ll be able to eat one piece of fruit a week. Your relationship with her will improve).]

Oh no... eating meat that tastes like sand without a sweet, juicy side dish?

My gaze went glassy. This was one of those moments where even Anubis couldn't do a thing to make my life easier. This was a choice between a rock and a hard place.

My heart bled. Exhaling quietly, I met my father's eyes.

"...You know, I’m sure it’s not that hard. You just need help maintaining the sand spout, right? Easy."

Silence hung in the room.