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A Promise of War
Amastan’s hand brushed hers briefly.
“If you stand with us, your enemies will find no mercy. Not in the desert.”
Anna’s heart quickened. “Then I will stand. But not as queen. As one free.”
> Freedom is a flame. It can warm or burn. To hold it, one must be willing to feel the pain.
The Firelight Conversation
That evening, by the flickering campfire, Amastan spoke of his people’s code — honor, courage, and loyalty.
“We are nomads of the night and day,” he said. “The desert is harsh but honest. No man can hide behind gold here.”
Anna listened, the firelight dancing in her eyes.
“Yet I was raised to obey, to serve,” she admitted. “How do I unlearn chains born in my blood?”
Amastan’s gaze softened. “You must first face the mirror of the soul — see yourself beyond the crown and the cage.”
The Meeting
The sun burned high over the endless dunes. Anna sat cross-legged outside a tent, dust clinging to her worn gown. Amastan approached, his steps silent on the sand.
His veil was pulled back, revealing sharp features and eyes that held both storm and calm.
“You carry your chains like a crown,” he said, voice low but firm.
Anna met his gaze steadily. “Chains are heavy. Crowns are lighter, but both bind.”
Amastan nodded slowly. “Freedom is not given. It is taken, like water from a desert well.”
She folded her hands. “Then teach me to take it.”
This creation was not made on NightCafe.
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Inspired by @Diane-de-la-Cheneraye