Chapter 1: Al'Ruhar.
The desert stretched beyond sight, a golden ocean under a merciless sun. From the highest balcony of the Palace of Al'Ruhar, Princess Barnasja often stood watching it, her black hair gleaming like silk against the wind. Her eyes, an impossible blue, the color of the deepest oasis, reflected both wonder and weariness. It was a land of beauty and cruelty, and she had been born to rule it, yet it never truly felt hers.
Her blue eyes came from her mother's side. She was not of Egypt but a beautiful maiden from Italy. She was here on a tour of Al'Ruhar, and that is how she and her father met and fell in love. With that, she got her father's black hair and her mother's blue eyes.
Below, the city shimmered like a mirage. Domes of bronze and marble caught the sunlight, and the call of merchants echoed through narrow streets perfumed with spice and dust. The people adored her from afar, whispering of her beauty and her kindness.
But in truth, they did not know her. Few ever did. In the palace, she lived surrounded by gold, servants, a jewel locked in a chest, and her father's rule.
Barnasja's chambers were vast, their walls painted with desert sunsets and stories of her ancestors. Cushions of embroidered silk lined the floors, and fountains murmured in the corners. Every luxury was hers, yet she felt a kind of thirst that no water could quench, the thirst for freedom.
Each morning, she would wake before dawn, when the air was cool, and the sky blushed violet. She wrapped herself in a light veil and slipped through the hidden arches to the royal stables. Her favorite horse, a pale desert mare named Nura, waited there. And together, they rode out into the dunes before anyone could stop her to feel those few minutes of freedom. The guards pretended not to see; everyone knew the princess of Al'Ruhar loved the desert more than her throne.
The wind would tangle her black hair as she galloped across the endless sands, her laughter carried far away. In those moments, she was not a princess. She was simply Barnasja, a girl of the desert, wild and unbound. Yet when she returned, duty awaited. Lessons in diplomacy, endless ceremonies, suitors with jeweled smiles. Her uncle, Lord Rafig, often watched her too closely, his eyes full of something she could not name: admiration, envy, or something darker. She did not like him at all, but her father, King Harun, noticed but said little. “He is family,” the king would say. “Blood must trust blood.”
Barnasja wished she could believe that. But lately, the palace had felt colder, the whispers heavier. The servants moved with quiet fear, and the guards never met her gaze. Even the fountains seemed to murmur secrets she could not hear; something felt not right, and she could not shake the feeling.
That evening, as she walked through the royal gardens, the sun was setting in a blaze of red and gold. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of jasmine. She stopped by the reflecting pool and looked at her own face mirrored in the water, sandy skin kissed by the desert sun, and blue eyes that did not belong in this land of gold. She looked like both queen and exile. “Do you ever wonder what lies beyond the dunes?” she asked softly. Her reflection did not answer.
In the distance, thunder rolled, strange, for there were no clouds. It was not the sky, she realized. It was the earth trembling, a sound carried from the city gates. Something was coming.
And though she did not yet know it, the life she had always known... the palace, the silks, the safety of royal walls, was already beginning to fade into memory, like footprints swallowed by the sand.
