The palm trees of Verozys swayed with the night breezes that the river brought to their crowns, orchestrating a melodic symphony to the ears of the lucky citizens who were still awake. The dunes that surrounded the verozean community changed into new designs before the lunar rays, reconfiguring the landscape from time to time due to the characteristic desert spirit of those magical sands.

There, however, deep in the heart of Empty Land, Verozys flourished like a flower on the rock; a seed germinating in the infertility of droughts. The souls that lived there were miracles that a paradisiacal oasis had brought to the ground, and today, the existences that remained gathered in that society enchanted any distant gaze that ventured through the intricacies of that prosperous civilization.

In one of these meanders - in one of the houses closest to the river that crossed the entire Empty Land region - there was the peculiar home of High Master Rozen's eldest son.

Ruzorh owned a not-too-small property, but he insisted on filling his carpet floor, walls, and windows with gauze fabrics, not to mention that his wooden furniture insisted on being covered with cotton fabrics. A real vanity for weaving and coloring flooded his property in the greatest compulsion for the fantasy of their respective prints, which often consisted of flowers and jewelry stamps.

Ruzorh showed great interest in quality fabrics since he insisted on showing his passion for everything beautiful and harmonious, although his temperament did not highlight this attribute that he admired so much. In fact, that same night, his spirit was not at all satisfied.

"Ow! Ow! Be more careful! You ripped my skin off!" Ruzorh complained at the same time as his daughter Xarcondra removed one of the big keratin thorns from his back. "Can't you have a little more delicacy?! What a brutal girl!"

He was sitting on the cotton-lined sofa in the living room, while Xarcondra stood behind him, gathering all the caution she could to help her father.

"If you stood still, maybe I could have it!" the daughter said, nurturing the same impatience that her father had given to her genetic material. "How horrible! These skin changes are always frustrating. And you won't help!"

"You do not know anything. The worst part comes later" Ruzorh commented. "I hate when my body gets sensitive. It makes me even angrier. It's awful. It feels like I'm melting inside a pool of boiling water."

After the three-horned verozean spoke, Nukaya announced her arrival in the room full of fine fabrics, carrying a small tray with a bottle, a kettle, and three glass cups.

"Tea or coffee, Master Ruzorh?" Nukaya asked as she kneeled before the table in front of the sofa, depositing the containers one by one.

"Tea," Ruzorh now raised his arms, since his daughter helped him in removing the last keratin thorns.

"Coffee for me," said Xarcondra without taking her attention off what she was doing.

Nukaya, then, with all the elegance that she was able to agglomerate in her actions, filled the glasses with the content she had prepared herself. Promptly, she delivered Ruzohr’s tea.

"I don't know how you can enjoy a drink as bad as this bitter coffee," he complained, now leaning over to receive the cup with his only free arm.

"Coffee is for the strong, not for chickens!" Xarcondra saw the perfect opportunity to tell a joke, laughing while referring to her father's temperament. "Big baby!"