He was a giant among men, standing well over two meters tall. His sword matched his frame : an enormous, beastly slab of metal no ordinary knight could even lift, let alone wield. It wasn't just a weapon. It was legend.
Clad in golden armor that gleamed beneath the sun, the man named Munir strode through the village gates.
It was a modest settlement, home to those who had served House Nafura for generations. Strangely, the village bore an unusually high number of tall folk, enough to make even Saed look average. But even here, Munir towered above all. A titan.
His coarse, wind-swept hair shimmered like the desert sands : orange and dry, moving with the breeze as if the wind itself respected his presence. His eyes, warm and brown, betrayed his humble roots. They softened his imposing figure, reminding those who saw him of the stories whispered in the capital, the ones about the boy with no noble blood who bore a sword meant for giants.
And yet, he smiled. A warm, gentle smile he'd worn ever since leaving the capital. For all its splendor, nothing compared to the scent of home.
He had left three years ago, still young but already burdened. His father, too sick to work and too proud to beg, had no strength left to feed such a large son. And so, Munir made the decision himself. He vanished into the night with nothing but the clothes on his back, no farewells, no weapon. Only resolve.
A voice called out, interrupting his thoughts.
"I was waiting for you."
Munir squinted ahead, trying to make out the figure standing in the sunlight. The man was at least a head shorter. What could someone so small want with him?
Then, he saw them eyes like bloodlit gems, still and silent.
He froze.
In nineteen years, he'd only seen eyes like that once. He could never forget them, not after everything they'd endured together.
"Saed?" His voice, loud but lighter than one would expect from such a towering figure, trembled. He instinctively covered his mouth, shock flooding his features.
The figure grinned, raising a hand in greeting. "That's right. I've grown quite a bit, don't you think?" He gestured playfully, full of life.
Munir blinked, then broke into laughter. "I didn't recognize you until I saw your eyes! You're not called the Blood Prince for nothing, huh?" He chuckled. "Though… I haven't heard that title in a while. Maybe it hasn't reached the capital yet."
Blood Prince... Saed paused. Twice in two days. First my father, now Munir. Strange timing... Are they trying to remind me of who I was before the war begins?
But even as the thought passed, he found himself smiling, genuinely.
"You'll have to tell me everything about the capital," he said. "I've been away for far too long."
Munir beamed. "I won't forget, young master. I promise."
They both grinned like fools.
"…"
The wooden doors of Yamu's estate creaked open, letting in the soft breeze of late afternoon. Sand whispered along the stone floor as Munir ducked slightly to pass through the frame, Saed trailing close behind him. Yamu waited inside his modest yet stately office, a room built from polished desert stone, the walls marked by ancestral emblems of House Nafura. A sun-faded tapestry of the Four Stars of Janash hung behind his desk, each star etched with an age-old prayer.
"Welcome back, Munir," Yamu said, his voice the perfect balance between weariness and warmth. "You've grown sharper, I see."
"Only in the ways the sword allows," Munir replied with a smile, placing a closed fist to his chest in a knight's greeting. "I've missed this room more than I expected."
"Then let's not waste time," Saed interjected, eager but respectful. "Father, tell him."
Yamu leaned forward, lacing his fingers together on the desk. "It's called Conquer the Island, though we still don't know the exact location, we can make speculations. This madman probably won't take us too far if I had to bet."
Saed looked at Munir and saw his hesitation , he then blurted out something. "It's a one-time game, organized by Saddam Hilal. The prize is a ring."
Munir's brow furrowed. "A ring? As in...?"
"Yes," Saed confirmed. "One of those rings. Djinn-crafted. The kind kings and empresses bleed for."
A low whistle escaped Munir's lips. "And you're going?"
"I have to," Saed said, folding his arms. "It's not a matter of ambition. It's survival. House Nafura is barely breathing. If I can win this ring... I can resurrect it."
Yamu stood and walked to the arched window behind him. The sun had begun its descent, casting golden-red light across the desert. "You will be four in number. You, of course. Your strength speaks for itself. Saed, obviously. And two others, already on their way."
"Who?" Munir asked.
"Faruq El-Raheem," Yamu said. "From the southern guard. Wields a scythe. Former war criminal, now under our house's protection. And Basima Arwa, once an executioner. She prefers hammers."
Munir gave a low chuckle. "So... we're a hammer, not a scalpel."
"Exactly," Yamu said. "This is not a game of riddles. It's a battle. Still, in case of riddles, we have your competent young master."
Silence fell, heavy but not uncomfortable.
"I can be here when the time comes," Munir said. "No matter what Sharleez asks of me."
Yamu looked him in the eye. "You'd abandon a future Empress for this?"
"She's not Empress yet," Munir said, gaze drifting toward the window. "And my sword will always point home first."
"…"
Munir found Saed atop the western hill outside the village, where the dunes dropped away into endless flatland. The night was clear, moonless, and the stars above shimmered like silver flecks spilled from a god's quill. Munir took a seat beside him without a word.
They sat in silence for a while, the kind only shared by those who trust one another completely. Eventually, Munir tilted his head back and exhaled.
"You ever wonder how the stars got up there?"
Saed smirked. "You're not the poetic type."
"I'm older than you think. The capital does strange things to a man. Especially when he falls in love."
"With Sharleez?"
Munir nodded slowly. "No, someone else. Sharleez is way too cray for me! I prefer my girlfriend. She shines brighter than most, Saed. Like the Second Star of Janash. White and piercing, always pointing true north. You know why we name our months after those stars?"
"Because of the stories."
Munir looked at him. "Then let me tell you one."
He pointed to the sky, where four particularly bright stars formed a rhombus shape. "Long ago, the desert had no stars. Just sun and sand. Then came Janash, a prophet of the old flame, who begged the sky for light during night marches. The gods laughed, saying, 'Why should we give stars to those who crawl like ants?' So Janash tricked them. He wrote four virtues in the sand : Truth, Loyalty, Courage, and Grief. When the gods tried to destroy them, they turned to flame and flew upward, becoming the stars you see now."
Saed listened, entranced.
"Janash died under those same stars. But the months were named after him, so we'd remember to look up."
Munir paused, voice growing distant. "I used to tell this story to Sharleez. She'd laugh at the idea of gods being fooled."
"What is she like?" Saed asked softly.
"Like thunder that sings," Munir said. "Terrifying. She wants the world, and if she wins, she might just fix it."
"You admire her," Saed said.
"I do. But I won't follow her everywhere. Not if it means letting you walk into this alone."
The desert wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of old stone, dry herbs, and memory. The two sat beneath the stars, two shadows in a sea of silver light, each dreaming of different futures, yet bound by one night sky.
And far above, the Second Star of Janash pulsed softly, as if listening.