YCH from the talented  biggoodwolf!

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Some found the desert sun to be wicked, stifling. It bit into them like a vampire, sapping them of strength and life until they were just an empty husk on the sands, able only to lie and wait for the desert to claim them. But to the Disciples of the Sphinx, it was as refreshing as water itself, as life-granting to them as it was to the lizards and the cacti. Here, atop the tallest bluff in the sands, they could be as close as they could to the sun's kiss.

The elder Disciples had brought Micah here often, along with the other young acolytes. They said the Sphinx's teachings could be found everywhere, if they only knew what to look for - the length of a cactus's shadow, the number of lines encircling a dune, how long a snake's trail lasted before being lost in the windblown sand. Even the wind itself whispered prophecies delivered by the Sphinx, heard only by his most faithful. Micah had come here every day since his ascension from the lower ranks of the acolytes, hoping to hear the Sphinx's voice on the desert winds.

The usual distractions of the desert tried to tear him from his reverie. Flecks of sand on the wind lightly pattered his face, and little creatures skittered just below the surface. But he remained still, heedless of the scorching ground burning his knees, letting the sun's comforting caress grant him the focus to listen to the wind.

Finally, he heard something.

It wasn't anything he had ever heard on all his excursions into the desert alone. But it was not a clear voice, like he had always imagined the Sphinx's prophecies to sound like. It was a droning whistle, or a buzz like a scarab's wings, but building to an intense crescendo. His heart skipped a beat. Was this another test from the Sphinx? Had Micah proven his devotion enough to be worthy of a prophecy, if only he could decipher its meaning?

The droning grew deeper, closer. It seemed as though the sand on the wind picked up its ferocity. Micah closed his eyes tighter and redoubled his efforts to focus on the sound carried on the wind. Then, a lash across his face broke his concentration entirely. He let out a grunt of shock and collapsed to his side on the rocky ground. Finally, he opened his eyes and was about to curse himself for coming so close when another lash across his back forced him facedown on the ground. He rolled onto his back, and gasped. What he saw was no whispered voice on the wind.

A swarming mass of insects writhed before him, the buzz of their wings filling the air and drowning out any other sound. But it was no mindless swarm. The beetles together formed into a vaguely humanoid shape, but with only a sunken, skeletal face, the swarming insects granting it no expression. The beetles forming the creature's arm flew back, then surged toward Micah. He scrambled to his feet as they scraped along the ground, then turned and ran. The buzzing of countless scarabs behind him merged into a horrific shriek.

Micah dashed across the sand. Back to the temple. The temple would provide shelter from this monstrosity. It always protected the Disciples from whatever horrors wandered the desert. The Sphinx's blessings would destroy the creature before it could even touch the temple's walls.

The buzzing continued to pursue him, and every now and then a stray scarab flew by and gashed his bare skin, but he dared not turn to look. The temple was within his sights. If he could just make it a little further...

A scarab slashed across his heel, and he yelped out as the world tumbled around him. He grunted as he landed heavily in the sand, and for a few moments, his vision was clouded, his ribs aching as he tried in vain to draw breath. He tried to stand again, but his legs would not obey. He looked up. The temple was so close, but the swarm drew even closer to him. How could it come so close to the sacred grounds? Where was the Sphinx's blessing to protect him?

Futilely, he reached out a hand toward the temple gates. They were so close, but the horrid droning of the swarm grew closer, and his leg was too cut up to allow him to stand or outrun it. He closed his eyes and muttered a prayer to the sun that had always nourished him, sheltered him.

Then, a growl. The sound of rushing fire, and an intense heat even greater than the desert sun. Micah looked up, and standing over him was a dragon. Scales as red as fire, clad in armour than shone as bright as midday, the dragon unleashed another wave of his incinerating breath and took firm hold of his sword. The swarm screeched as it was engulfed by the dragon's fire, and he roared and lined at the gathered scarabs.

Micah watched as the warrior fought the horror like a mad thing. Every time the swarm tried towrithe around him, there was another rush of flame, or gust of wind from his mighty wings. The swarm could not go around him. It could only go through. But he would not let it through.

But who was this hero, sent by the sun itself? Did the Sphinx's protective blessing now take the form of this dragon? Micah looked to the sun, disappearing behind the temple gates. The fighter would not let up his assault. He was driving the swarm away. Micah smiled, and thanked the Sphinx for his blessing.