Young Woman: "Hosha raised her right hand and said, 'Yes, this is right!'"

Amr: "Oh, come on, Mom! You can’t end the story like that every time!"

Young Woman: "Well, that’s just how the story goes, isn’t it? I can’t change it."

Amr jolted awake, confused, the memory of that familiar tale echoing in his head.

Amr: "Where… where am I?" he muttered, blinking away the haze of sleep.
Passed out from exhaustion again.

He sat up, rubbing his temples as the dream faded, leaving only the irritation behind. The same story, over and over. His mother had been obsessed with it, a story from Mosha’s book, where the god Mosha raised her right hand and said, "Yes, this is right." She was just pointing out her hand, but every one of her creations misunderstood it. They all thought she was talking about what was good. A simple mistake, but one that stuck.

Amr hated it. His mom loved it.

He sighed and rose to his feet, feeling the weight of the day before hit him again. In front of him stood a tall, dark wall, scarred with strange scratches. It was the kind of wall you’d see around any city, except this one loomed darker, more oppressive. And, of course, it was in his way.

Amr (thinking): At this rate, I’ll die of exhaustion before I even make a dent in this thing. But what choice do I have? If I go any slower, the imperial guards will catch on. And asking for help around here? Madness.
He glanced around. This place is crawling with thieves and bandits. Asking them for help would be like signing my own death sentence.

He clenched his fists, frustration gnawing at him. And asking her for help… no, that’s not an option either.
Amr shook his head, grimacing. Moh? Yeah, right. He’d want something in return. Always does. Guess that leaves me two choices—either find someone trustworthy in the city or… ask Hera. Both terrible options, but they’re all I’ve got.

Narrator: In case you're lost in his train of thought—her is his lover. Hera, on the other hand, is his teacher. And Moh? Think of him like an annoying little brother. And before you ask, yes, Amr is talking to himself. Again. But you get the idea.

Amr walked to his horse, Maka, and mounted him with a quick, practiced motion. He gave the reins a gentle tug, guiding the horse forward toward the city of Bakaka—known to most as the Edge City.

At first, the sky was clear, but as they rode, the winds began to pick up. Soon, sand started swirling around them, each gust growing stronger until a full-blown sandstorm wrapped them in a blinding haze.

Amr: "Great... just what I needed. Let's push through, Maka. We’re almost there."

After a long, grueling ride through the storm, Bakaka finally came into view. Amr sighed in relief as they passed through the city gates.