With the scarab in hand, the remaining members of the group were ready to leave. Especially the guards who saw one of their colleagues die before their eyes. They understood that if someone else were to die it would probably be them.
They were almost out.
The stifling weight of the underground air lightened as the sliver of daylight ahead widened — the upper ramp winding toward the cave's exit. The guards were silent, sweat dripping from their brows, too exhausted to speak. Jafar walked ahead, victorious and impatient.
Helios, however, was not at ease.
His hand gripping his keyblade tightly. His senses prickled with a tension that hadn't faded — something unfinished, lurking beneath the triumph. Until they left this cave he would not let his guard down.
The scarab in his pouch reminded him that as a guardian the remain Ghul should not let him escape with it.
Then—
FWOOM.
A section of sand exploded upward like a geyser. A long, jagged spike of hardened grit burst from the slope with surgical precision, impaling a guard clean through the back. The man jerked in the air, his scream caught in his throat, blood bubbling over his lips before he slid off the spike and crumpled to the ground.
The last remaining guard stumbled backward in horror.
Jafar snapped toward the disruption, staff raised. "The other one—!"
"The Ghul," Helios growled, eyes scanning the shifting grains. "It's taken on the form of sand itself. It's moving through the ground."
He dropped to one knee, pressing his palm to the cavern floor. Green magical wind rings circled his wrist, glowing faintly.
"Aerora."
A complex wind spell surged out in a compressed dome, not a simple blast but a targeted sand-clearing vacuum. The air didn't howl — it thrummed, a forcefield pulling the surrounding sand straight up in a spiraling vortex, revealing the stone and dust underneath.
For a few seconds, the sand was gone — blown back like mist by a hurricane.
The path was clear. Too clear.
Helios watched. Waited.
The spell collapsed.
The sand returned, flowing unnaturally fast, as if pulled by something hungry beneath the earth.
Jafar sneered. "A flashy solution. But a temporary one."
Helios didn't flinch. "Then perhaps you'd like to do more than spectate. I would welcome your help if you can manage."
Jafar scowled.
He lifted his staff with a sharp flick of the wrist and slammed it into the stone, conjuring a circle of infernal runes that burned through the ground.
"Ignis Incendio."
From the base of his staff, a ring of fire burst out, tracing the circumference of the chamber. As the flames reached the edge, they lifted into vertical arcs — burning against the flow of the returning sand.
The fire wasn't simply fire. It was arcane filtration — consuming anything it came into contact with.
The scent of burning flesh and rotten bone filled the air as the sand seethed, resisting, writhing.
"Well, now that's a really flashy spell without much substance. It won't hold long," Helios muttered, scanning the center.
"If you have time to insult my spell then finish it quickly," Jafar snarled.
Helios' eyes locked onto a spot outside the circle — a patch of sand that had stopped. It neither flowed nor scattered.
Stillness was the tell.
With a flick of his wrist, he summoned his blade — Equilibrium flashing to life.
"Firaga."
A massive, rotating spiral of flame, like a flare, formed at the tip of the keyblade and launched forward, boring into the unmoving dune.
The moment it struck—
The sand exploded.
A monstrous howl erupted as the Ghul's body was ripped back into its natural form, twisting in mid-air as its illusion shattered. Skin peeled, muscle flared with heat. Its scream was rage and fear combined.
Helios dashed forward in a blur of yellow light.
The creature lunged, but it was too slow.
SLICE.
With a downward arc, Equilibrium cleaved through the Ghul's neck in a trail of a golden arc.
Its body hit the ground, writhing.
Helios didn't hesitate.
He thrust his free hand forward and cast a gravity spell, locking the severed corpse with a blowing black and purple energy that presses down on the body.
"Firaga," he whispered.
A final Firaga sphere expanded in his hand and detonated against the body, engulfing it in roaring fire.
When the smoke cleared—
Nothing remained.
No limbs.
No sand.
Only scorched stone and drifting ash. Helios did not wish to deal with another surprise attack so he made sure it was defeated and dead.
The surviving guard was shaking, barely able to hold his weapon.
Helios dismissed his blade with a quiet breath, eyes never leaving the burn mark on the ground.
Jafar approached slowly, eyes narrowed.
"Quite the show," he said.
"It was necessary," Helios replied.
They emerged from the cave as the first rays of dawn spilled across the desert.
The sky above burned with soft firelight. The sandstorm in the distance had not yet reached them, but the wind carried the scent of heat and dust.
Jafar paused at the exit, looking back at the now-silent cave.
"Two guards," he muttered. "One porter. Gone but worth the success of the mission."
He turned to Helios. "You have the scarab? May I see it?"
Helios didn't respond.
He only adjusted his jacket and stepped forward.
Jafar's lips curled, but he said nothing more. After all the men he brought to help him take care of this boy lay dead within the cave and he wasn't sure he could win from what he'd seen of the boy's magic.
As unfortunate as it was Jafar would have to let the boy hold onto the scarab until they returned to Agrabah where he could gather more guard before he moved against this boy. When he turned away Helios looked at him and flashed a wicked smile for a moment before returning to his normal look.
They began the long walk back toward Agrabah — only the sound of shifting sand underfoot.