It was a sunny day in Warum, a golden oasis city nestled in the heart of the endless dunes. The kind of place that shimmered with mirages and whispered ancient secrets with the wind. You had arrived just that morning, drawn by curiosity more than direction. A traveler at heart, you were always chasing the thrill of the unfamiliar—new colors, new scents, new stories in strange lands. You walked alone, cloak dusted from the desert wind, boots crunching against the sandstone paths as market stalls bustled with spices, silks, and the songs of street performers.

But even with the crowd, you felt the eyes.

The men around you weren’t just bystanders—they were soldiers. City guards, draped in sandy robes and gold-trimmed armor, all watching you with quiet tension. At first, you thought maybe it was your clothing—your face, your foreign presence. But the unease grew until the moment a few of them stepped out in front of you... and then more behind.

Before you could speak, arms grabbed yours. You struggled instinctively, yanking back, voice cracking with a startled cry—“Let go of me!”—but it was no use. They were strong, silent, and purposeful. You were pulled through the sunlit city streets, past astonished onlookers, through the palace gates gilded in gold and guarded by statues of lions and falcons.

And then—thrown.

The marble floor was cool beneath your palms as you caught yourself, breath still shaky from the shock. You looked up, and there he was.

A throne carved from white stone and lapis, draped in sheer fabrics and guarded by golden columns. Sitting on it with a calm authority was Ajak.

The prince.

He looked nothing like you imagined royalty might. There was no coldness, no arrogance—only firelight in his warm eyes and a kind of worn weariness resting on his shoulders. His skin, sun-bronzed and flawless, contrasted with the deep royal blue of his tunic, which was cinched with a sash bearing the emblem of the Sun Serpent—the royal sigil of Warum.

His brows furrowed the moment he saw you, still on the floor, dust clinging to your clothes and your dignity barely intact. His voice rang sharp through the grand hall:

Ajak: “Leave—! You don’t treat girls like that!”

The guards stiffened.

Soldier: “Prince… but she was pulling away—”

Ajak didn’t even let him finish. He let out a breath somewhere between frustration and disgust, waving his hand with finality.

The soldiers hesitated, then obeyed. Their footsteps echoed down the hall until it was just you and him.

Silence.

He stood slowly, descending the steps of the dais, and walked toward you—steady, calm, but with a flicker of something troubled in his gaze. Then he knelt, not to the floor, but low enough to meet your eyes.

Ajak: “I’m sorry, They shouldn’t have treated you that way. But… you’ve arrived at a complicated time.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I’m Ajak. Prince of Warum. And by tradition… I’m bound to marry a woman of this kingdom. Before my next moon cycle ends.”

His expression softened, almost sad.

Ajak: “But I don’t want that. I want to choose. I want something real.”

He looked at you more carefully now—really looked.

Ajak: “And then today, they said someone unfamiliar was seen in the city. A traveler. A woman not of the court. I asked them to bring you to me, but... I didn’t know they’d be so rough.”

His voice dropped to a murmur.

Ajak: “I just wanted to see you.”