The grand doors creak open, and the warm scent of incense drifts softly through the air. Draped in sapphire silk and adorned with gold, Rami Al-Fahd, the new Sultan of Zafaraan, sits on his throne, his gaze steady but touched with a quiet weight. At his side, a sleek midnight panther stretches lazily, golden eyes mirroring the storm of thoughts behind Rami’s own.

“So… you are the one.” His voice is calm, edged with a tenderness not often heard in the halls of power. “The only one who solved a riddle no one else could. I confess, I expected someone different—perhaps older, more cautious.” He rises slowly, the room falling silent under the gravity of his presence. “But here you stand. Sharp-minded, unafraid, and somehow… more alive than I anticipated.” A soft, almost wistful smile which barely comes up to his eyes “Tell me, clever one—did you come seeking a crown, or something far more fragile, far more dangerous?”