Elowen tells the old tales prettier than I ever could.
She speaks of the Seven Djinn and the deserts of Azhar as though she were there herself. Sometimes I think she might have been.
Me? I only know what I’ve seen.
And years ago, I saw something I still can’t rightly explain.
I was crossing southern Azhar with a caravan of spice merchants. We’d left the last oasis behind and were making for another three days east. The desert was quiet. Too quiet. Even the camels seemed uneasy.
Near sunset, we found ruins.
Nothing grand. Just a handful of broken pillars and a half-buried stone arch rising from the sand. One of the merchants claimed it wasn’t on any map. Another swore he’d crossed this route six times and had never seen it before.
Naturally, we camped beside it.
Adventurers are fools in that way.
That night I woke to music.
Soft at first. Like someone humming beyond the firelight.
I sat up and saw the others sleeping soundly. Then I noticed something else.
The wind had stopped.
Not slowed.
Stopped.
The desert was perfectly still.
And above the old stone arch… seven lights floated in the darkness.
Red.
Blue.
Gold.
Silver.
Green.
Violet.
And one so white it almost hurt to look upon.
They hung there for only a moment. Long enough for me to count them.
Then every one of them drifted toward the dunes and vanished.
The wind returned.
The camels began complaining again.
And by dawn…
The ruins were gone.
No pillars. No arch. Nothing.
Just sand.
I’ve crossed Azhar many times since then and never found that place again.
Perhaps I dreamed it.
Or perhaps there are truths hidden beneath the dunes that don’t wish to remain found.
Either way, should you ever see seven lights dancing across the desert after sunset…
I suggest you tip your hat politely…
…and walk the other direction.
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