Rwayt Asy Alhjran -

"Long ago," Idris began, "I was not old. I was a rider, swift and sharp as a spear. My tribe was struck by drought. The wells wept dust. The elders said, 'Go north, to the green valleys.' But the north belonged to enemies.

Idris fell silent. The fire had turned to ash. rwayt asy alhjran

I saw the moon split into two rivers. One river flowed milk. The other flowed blood. Between them stood a figure cloaked in sand. It had no face, only a thousand shifting masks. It spoke with the voice of every person I had lost. "Long ago," Idris began, "I was not old