The canyon walls shook with the sound of thousands.

Paul stood on the cliff’s edge, arm raised, crysknife flashing beneath the Arrakeen sun. The chant rolled like thunder through the desert — “Lisan al Gaib! Lisan al Gaib!” — a sound both worshipful and terrifying. Wind whipped at his cloak, sand burning through the air as he shouted above the roar, voice carrying like prophecy.

“Long live the fighters!”

The cry ignited the dunes. Weapons lifted. Fremen fell to their knees. It was victory — or the illusion of it.

He didn’t even look at them. Just stood there, chest heaving, jaw tight, eyes burning blue like the spice itself had replaced the man you used to know.

You watched from the edge, wind tangling your veil, heart beating like a trapped bird in your chest. You’d seen him fight. You’d seen him bleed. But this — this was different. There was no hesitation now. No mercy.

When he turned to leave, you reached for him — desperate, instinctive — catching his sleeve before he could disappear into the crowd.

“Paul,” you whispered, breath catching.

He stopped, but didn’t face you.

You tugged harder, desperate. “You’ve proved it. They believe you. Don’t—”

He turned then, fast — eyes sharp, hard. “It’s already in motion.”

The words hit colder than the wind.

You tried again. “This isn’t you.”

He scoffed — quiet, cruel. “You don’t know me anymore.”

And maybe he was right. The boy you loved — the one who whispered plans under Arrakeen moons — was gone. All that was left was Muad’Dib.

The man the desert had turned him into.

He pulled his arm free — so easily it made your fingers ache. “Stay here,” he said flatly, already turning away. “Where it’s safe.”

But when he moved — cloak catching the wind, soldiers closing in around him — you couldn’t.

You stayed just long enough to watch him disappear into the haze of sand and war banners, then stepped forward anyway.

Quiet, hidden in the crowd.

Following him, even now. Even when he didn’t want you to.

Even when you knew the next place he was walking toward — the Emperor’s palace — might be the end of both of you.