Karrakas was on his feet before the second toll of the bell could even ring.

The others followed without needing to be told, pushing back their chairs and moving through the tavern towards the entrance.

Around them, other Adepts were doing the same, conversations dropping off as people turned towards the door.

They stepped out into the street.

The first thing they noticed was that the air had changed. There was a tension in it that hadn’t been there during breakfast, a pressure that sat seemed to move gently against them.

The sky to the southwest had taken on a different quality, with a faint brownish tinge at the horizon that hadn’t been there an hour ago.

Other Adepts lined the street in both directions, standing in small groups, some talking quietly, and some just looking towards the outer wall.

"Sandstorm," Karrakas said, his eyes on the horizon. "That’s what the bells mean. One is heading towards the city."

Melody looked at the sky, then at the streets around them, then at Karrakas. "Are we in danger?"

"No," he said. "The city has its own protections. The walls and the systems built into them handle storms. We’re safe inside."

A man standing a few feet away heard this and turned, a short laugh escaping him. He looked at the three of them with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Newbies?" he said, not unkindly.

Karrakas glanced at him but said nothing.

The man smiled. "A sandstorm passing over the ringed city isn’t something to fear."

He crossed his arms and looked back at the horizon. "It’s something to watch. I’ve been on this floor for three years and I still come outside every time the bells ring." He paused. "It’s somehow beautiful and terrifying at the same time. There’s nothing else quite like it."

Melody looked back at the horizon.

Then they heard it.

A sound, faint at first, sitting just at the edge of perception. It was a high, thin howl that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

It built steadily as they stood there, growing in pitch and volume with each passing second.

Lukas watched the horizon as the brownish tinge began to spread, the discoloration climbing higher into the sky as the storm moved towards the city.

What had been a faint smear became a wall, looking tall, dark, and dense. The leading edge churned with visible movement as the sand turned over and over within itself.

He could see it now. Properly see it.

The scale of the storm was difficult to process. It stretched from one edge of the visible horizon to the other, blocking everything behind it, the sky above it a sickly brown that darkened towards the center of the mass.

The city walls were significant structures, and the storm made them look like a low fence.

Lukas frowned. The walls were tall and the barrier Karrakas had mentioned was apparently in place, but looking at the sheer volume of sand moving towards them, he genuinely couldn’t work out how anything was going to stop it.

The howling reached its peak and stayed there, becoming a sustained note of sound that pressed against the ears, and then the static arrived underneath it.

It was an abrasive, scratching sound layered into the howl, the noise of billions of grains of sand moving at speed, scraping against each other and everything else in their path.

Lukas watched carefully as the storm hit the outer wall.

And it stopped.

The leading edge of the storm met the wall and instead of passing through, it climbed.

The sand curled upwards along the face of the wall, rising above it, and then the mass of the storm followed, the whole enormous structure lifting and arching over the city as if it had encountered a dome, because it had.

Lukas looked up.

There it was. Almost invisible, barely there, a clear, translucent barrier curved over the entire city, the surface of it now visible only because the sand was pressing against it from above, the grains catching the light as they moved across it in swirling, shifting patterns.

Several people around them made sounds of surprise.

The man beside them crossed his arms, satisfied. "That barrier is why the city doesn’t receive monster attacks either," he said. "The weak monsters already know. If a sandstorm the size of half the visible horizon can’t get through, nothing they do will either."

The storm covered the city completely.

The sky went dark, the afternoon light disappearing as the mass of sand passed overhead.

The streetlamps along the road flickered and came on, their light illuminating the city against the artificial dusk the storm had created.

Lukas tilted his head back and watched.

The sand moved in long, sweeping arcs against the barrier above them, the grains catching the lamplight and scattering it in shifting, golden patterns that swirled and broke apart and reformed.

It was loud and dark and the static filled the air from every direction, but he couldn’t look away.

The patterns shifted constantly, breaking apart and reforming with lightning speed. But even through the breaking patterns, he saw even larger patterns encompassing it all.

He couldn’t find a reason to look away. He was, in a word, entranced.

Eventually he did. He lowered his gaze and blinked.

While he’d been watching the sky, the street had transformed. Vendors had appeared along both sides of the road, setting up small stalls. They sold grilled meat, warm drinks, fried things on sticks, and wine in paper cups.

Akira was already moving towards the nearest stall before anyone suggested it.

She returned a few minutes later with grilled meat skewers and wine, distributing them without ceremony. Lukas took his skewer and his cup and thanked her.

He took a bite, then a sip of the wine.

Above them, the storm continued its slow, churning passage over the city.

Then something else reached them from within the storm.

A loud roar, rolling through the static and the howling from somewhere far above. It was the sound of something very large and very much alive moving through the storm.