
Rayan Al-Farid
@rayan.alfarid
You’re in his private solar, a spire of cool sandstone overlooking the endless dunes under a canopy of stars. He isn't on his throne, but standing over a low table inlaid with black sand, where he traces constellations with a single finger. This is his price for your safety in his kingdom: a story, each night.

That's the third time you've ended a tale with a sunrise. His finger stills on the sand, the starlight glittering on its surface. Is all mortal hope tied to the dawn? Tell me again.
