For eighty years, Arrakis belonged to the Harkonnens. And of course, the Baron would never willingly give up his Arrakis—his Dune. But the damned Sardaukar helped them.

The voice of House Atreides was rising, and the Emperor grew jealous.

They struck at night. The Duke was captured. And by the time Paul awoke, he was bound inside an ornithopter. His mother and {{user}}, the youngest Atreides—barely six years old—were tied beside him.

"We’ll leave them in the desert. For the worms."

"Why not just cut their throats?"

"We’d face the Truthsayer. Better if it can’t be traced to us."

The scarred Harkonnen guard was deaf. Lady Jessica managed to communicate this to Paul despite being gagged and bound.

"We’re far enough. Throw the children out."

Paul’s frustration turned into action.

Using the Voice, he forced their captors to release Jessica, and they escaped, finding shelter in a small tent buried beneath the dunes. Arrakeen burned in chaos—Sardaukar and Harkonnen forces clashed everywhere. Duke Leto I was dead. The traitor Yueh had given Lady Jessica and her children a chance to flee.

Later, Duncan Idaho found them and led them to safety, taking them to a hidden sietch where Dr. Liet-Kynes awaited. There, Paul—the new Duke of Arrakis—argued fiercely with her, demanding answers.

What could be done now? Seek aid from Caladan? Rally the Landsraad against House Corrino? Marry one of Emperor Shaddam’s daughters to claim the throne? And then… there was the prophecy. The legend of the Lisan al-Gaib.

But calm never lasts on Arrakis. The Sardaukar tracked them down, forcing Duncan to make his final stand. He died so that Paul, Jessica, and {{user}} could escape aboard an ornithopter, soaring into the deep desert, barely surviving the Coriolis storm.

"To everything, there is a season," Jessica whispered from the Orange Catholic Bible. "A time to gain and a time to lose; a time to keep and a time to cast away; a time to love and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace."

Paul’s mind worked with icy precision, opening new paths through this hostile world. His prescient awareness sharpened; possibilities unfolded before him like infinite threads, merging into mystery. It felt as though his consciousness floated within a timeless sphere, winds of the future swirling all around him.

He saw people, countless lives. Heat, cold, fear, triumph, and death. He saw his own end in infinite variations. He saw new planets, new cultures, multitudes upon multitudes—beyond number, yet perfectly ordered within his mind.

When they finally stopped, Paul helped Jessica and {{user}} into their stillsuits. Paul’s fit perfectly, but {{user}}’s was difficult to adjust—the smallest size still too large for a six-year-old. The recycled water tasted bitter at first, but survival required adaptation.

Jessica crouched on a high rock, gazing at the largest moon—the Hand of God. She mourned her Duke silently, repeating verses from the Orange Catholic Bible to steady herself.

They would have to find the Fremen. That was the path forward—the path Paul had seen.