Come closer, little sparks, and let an old woman tell you something curious.
Far beyond the Verdant Shores, across the golden deserts of Azhar, there are roads so ancient that even the sand has forgotten who first walked them.
Before the oasis kingdoms rose from the dunes… before merchants crossed the desert with silk and spice… before mortals learned that some wishes cost more than they bargain for…
The skies of Azhar belonged to the Djinn.
Ah, the Seven.
Ancient beings of flame, wind, water, sand, moonlight, and stars. Neither kind nor cruel, but powerful beyond imagining. With a whisper, they could summon rivers where none existed. With a laugh, they could bury cities beneath the dunes. And with a single word, they could change the course of destiny itself.
Their magic shaped the deserts of Mythren.
Their whims nearly destroyed them.
But that, dear ones, is a tale for another evening.
For now, should you ever find yourself beneath the stars of southern Azhar, listen carefully when the desert wind begins to sing.
Some say it still carries the voices of the Seven.
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