The desert city of Zarifa had two faces.
The one tourists saw shimmered in filtered sunlight — a fusion of forgotten ruins and glimmering highrises wrapped in ancient elegance. But beneath its painted streets and incense-stained corners lay something older… something that breathed.
Jordan Joestar stood alone before the rusted gate of the Forgotten Souk, sweat clinging to his brow despite the cool wind. In one hand, he held an hourglass — a relic passed down from his grandfather, its silver frame etched with Joestarstars. The sand inside was unnaturally fine. It didn't fall — it coiled, like it had a will of its own.
"You shouldn't be here," he muttered to himself. "But the dreams won't stop."
For the past six nights, Jordan had seen the same vision: a man without a face, kneeling in sand that bled. Behind him, a shape — human, yet monstrous — whispered his name like a curse.
Today, he'd stopped running from it.
He pushed the gate. It screamed open. Shadows crept across sandstone walls like tendrils. The souk was silent. Too silent. The kind that made your bones itch.
Then it happened.
A low hum rose from the ground. Dust coalesced in the air, curling like smoke. Jordan turned sharply. A figure emerged — tall, half-naked, its body stitched from ash and bone. Its face was featureless, its voice a vibration in his skull.
"Joestar blood. Mirage-bound. The seal breaks."
The pain struck like a dagger to the brain. Jordan screamed, dropping the hourglass. It shattered. And from the sand it spilled, something rose.
A figure took shape behind him — tall, humanoid, and terrible. Its body was sculpted glass wrapped in flowing sand, a mask of polished gold where a face should be. It stared down the ash-man like a god staring down an insect.
And without warning, it struck.
The creature dissolved in midair, screaming not with a voice but with memory. And just like that, it was over. The dust fell. The silence returned. Jordan staggered backward, breath ragged, his shirt soaked in sweat and something else — blood?
Then came another voice.
"Damn. You actually awakened it."
Jordan turned. A young man with an angular jaw and a tech visor over one eye leaned against the archway, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Name's Rasheed," he said. "You're a Stand user now. Welcome to hell."
Jordan didn't reply. He only looked at his shaking hands… and the shadow behind him, still watching.
CHAPTER 2 COMING SOON...