Hathor waited for the sandstorm to subside, then gave the three men a few worried reminders before opening a passage and leaving without another moment's delay.
Even a god had no desire to linger in such a harsh environment.
After Hathor left, the three straightened their clothes and shook off most of the sand, then set off without delay in the direction she had indicated.
Walking through the desert was a grueling struggle against a merciless environment.
The sand beneath their feet was fine, soft, and deep. Every step took tremendous effort, as though an invisible force were holding them back.
The blazing sun baked them without mercy. The heat made even the air scorching, and their breaths grew rapid and searing.
Neuvillette took off his elaborate, ornate coat and carried it in his hand.
Sunlight poured down relentlessly, as though intent on setting the entire desert ablaze.
In the sweltering heat, sweat gradually gathered on Neuvillette's forehead and temples.
The moisture pooled into glistening beads that tumbled down his temples like pearls from a broken string, erratic yet somehow urgent.
Those trails of sweat resembled little, sinuous snakes, slipping lightly over his slender neck.
The graceful lines of his neck became all the more alluring as the sweat traced its way along them.
The droplets continued winding downward before disappearing silently beneath his collar, leaving suggestive traces in their wake.
Neuvillette narrowed his eyes slightly, seemingly enduring the unbearable heat, yet his posture remained straight, without the slightest hint of retreat.
Cyno had plenty of experience traveling through the desert. He led the other two, studying the sand ahead with a focused gaze. Whenever he encountered what looked like a quicksand pit, he bent down to inspect it carefully, only continuing once he had confirmed it was safe.
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