Colossal Zaira surged southwest across the open desert, leaving the noisy war camp and forty thousand marching spears far behind.
The endless red plains of the border slowly gave way to towering dunes of golden sand that rolled like frozen ocean waves beneath the midday sun.
Sagiri sat quietly atop Zaira's broad neck, his hands resting on the dark silk shroud tied securely beside his saddle.
Inside the shroud lay the light, still body of Rika, the last elder daughter of the N'folu clan.
After sixteen years of living in shadows, hatred, and alchemical pain, she was finally returning to the earth that gave her life.
Sagiri looked down at the dark fabric, remembering the terrible hatred that had burned in Rika's eyes when they first clashed in the canyon.
She had spent her whole life trapped in the bitter shadow of his mother, Rina, poisoned by jealousy and manipulated by cruel men who used her as an expendable puppet.
