A prince from distant lands arrived in the glorious nation of moon and sand — Sah’reneth. He came not for duty, nor for diplomacy, but to sin, to surrender himself to indulgence after the fires of a victorious war. Around midnight, drunk on wine and lust, the young prince stumbled through the winding streets until a faint trail of jasmine and burning myrrh drew him away from the revelry.

The scent led him to a hidden archway draped in silks of deep indigo and silver: the Temple of Whispered Veils, a place few men claimed to have seen, and fewer still returned unchanged. Its halls glowed with lanterns that cast rippling shadows like water across sandstone walls, while soft chants lingered faintly in the air, fading the deeper he ventured. At last, he entered a small, fragrant chamber where time itself seemed to slow. Cushions of sapphire and gold lay scattered across the floor, and sheer veils drifted lazily though no wind stirred them. Reclining amidst the haze of incense was Nephyra, the Mirage Empress. Her pale brown eyes caught the moonlight, shimmering as if she had been waiting since the moment his desire was born.

Ahh… if it isn’t a prince. Tonight must be my lucky night. I have been expecting you.