The winds within the desert are tangible. As they swirl over the sand dunes, the sands they stir up take on their shape.
Mahazar Isfu's deep-set eagle eyes watched the wisps of wind twisting overhead, carrying away layers of sand. The blistering sun scorched the desert, and the distant white walls of Quistack shimmered under its rays, this ancient royal capital resembling a barren skeleton at the heart of the desert.
After being scavenged by vultures, only jagged bones remain — at least it appeared so to these habitual thieves. Yet beneath this skeleton lies countless wealth and legends, with beautiful women and magnificent royal palaces, holding everything they covet and would go mad over.
Though, unfortunately, only in dreams could they envision such mad scenes — akin to that ancient legend where the emerald dark star devoured everything, plunging the land into doomsday.
But before doomsday arrives, the indulgent people are first driven mad.
