The land where Amber Nois, the Great Archmage, had teleported Lola and the surviving remnants of the empire was known as Sanaria—a name that, in the native tongue, meant Sand City.
It was a fitting title.
Sanaria was a vast desert kingdom blessed—ironically—with the richest sands known in the world. Not ordinary grains, but sands infused with minerals, ancient nutrients, and crystalline deposits that shimmered under sunlight. These sands could be forged into bricks harder than ironwood, processed into potent fertilizers that birthed lush, almost magical crops, and even refined into medicinal powders. Sand was their pride, their lifeblood, and their greatest export.
The kingdom itself was ruled by King Sinnabad, a colossal, pot-bellied man with a booming laugh, a tyrant's appetite, and absolutely no self-restraint. He ruled Sanaria with one hand—and devoured it with the other.
King Sinnabad had 67 wives, though nobody truly knew the exact number anymore. Over two thousand children roamed the nation, some legitimate, others the result of his endless indiscretions with women outside the royal harem.
In Sanaria, it was a common occurrence during certain seasons for a mother to suddenly arrive at the palace gates with a child—claiming royal blood because the king had "visited" her village nine months prior.
Despite this chaotic family tree, King Sinnabad officially named 14 of his sons as Crown Princes. These fourteen were not only the eldest but the strongest, the ones who had survived palace politics, poisoned goblets, and assassination attempts from siblings who wanted their place.
Their ages ranged from 32 to 23.
But among them, seven princes stood above the rest, their reputations stretching across the entire desert:
Chalibad, 32 – the eldest, calm, wise, and calculating.
Novibad, 28 – wild, fearless, unrestrained by anything resembling discipline.
Delibad, 27 – pragmatic and opportunistic, a man who saw everything as a tool.
Comibad, 27 – sharp, strategic, frighteningly intelligent.
Sumibad, 27 – a hedonist who lived for pleasure and excess.
Nahibad, 26 – athletic, powerful, undefeated in combat trials.
Kulibad, 26 – hot-blooded, emotional, and dangerously easy to provoke.
These seven were the ones Sanaria watched with both awe and terror.
---
On this particular night, something unprecedented occurred.
Thunder cracked violently across the dark grey heavens—not ordinary thunder, but a summoning thunder, the kind that vibrated the marrow and made the desert sands ripple like waves. The moon hung full and unnaturally bright, glowing with a silver intensity that made Sanaria's towers shine like polished bone.
Then it appeared.
A constellation—no, a celestial formation—gathered above the palace, moving like stars obeying a silent call. They aligned, twisted, and converged until they formed the unmistakable silhouette of a newborn child. A baby wrapped in shimmering starlight.
A sign. A proclamation. A warning.
A prince had been born into the world—Josh the Second.
For a brief breath of time, the image remained fixed in the heavens… then dispersed, scattering into the night as if fleeing the prophecy they had revealed.
---
King Sinnabed did not take disruptions lightly.
He had been in the middle of his nightly indulgence—his ritual of unhinged pleasure—when the sky burst open with omens. The shock irritated him so much that he dismissed the women around him and demanded answers immediately.
At once, he sent for:
The most revered seer in Sanaria, a man known simply as the Sand Prophet.
All fourteen Crown Princes, including the fearsome seven.
Several of his highest-ranking wives, those he had elevated to positions of influence.
His key officials and military heads.
By the time the king stormed into his throne room, it was already overflowing—warriors, wives, princes, priests, and servants all packed together, silent and tense.
Everyone stared at the seer.
Everyone waited for his interpretation of the celestial child.
The entire throne room held its breath eagerly...
Because whatever the seer spoke next would determine the fate of Sanaria—and the destiny of Josh the Second.
"Oh great Sand Prophet, do you know why I sent for you?" King Sinnabad asked, lowering himself onto the massive throne carved from white sandstone, the rarest, of the highest quality, and the most expensive in all the land. His voice carried the weight of authority, but also the irritation of a man whose nightly pleasure had been interrupted.
The Sand Prophet stepped forward with theatrical grace, his long, patterned robes sweeping across the polished floor. His apprentices followed closely behind, struggling under the weight of the massive leather bag that held his divination tools.
"Of course, Your Majesty," he replied, bowing deeply. "You seek to understand the omens the heavens have unveiled… the message behind the celestial signs… and what fate now unfolds for the land of Sanaria." He folded his hands behind his back, spine straight, expression grave. "Such matters cannot be ignored when the sky itself chooses to speak."
A pleased grin spread across King Sinnabad's round face.
"It seems the rumors are true. You truly are the greatest seer of the last century. You can even pluck thoughts straight from the minds of men."
The Sand Prophet chuckled—a slow, booming laugh made for performance—and dipped his head modestly as though flattered.
But not everyone in the throne room was impressed.
From the cluster of warriors, Prince Kulibad, the hot-blooded seventh crown prince, scoffed loudly.
"You'd better speak something worthwhile," he muttered, arms crossed, eyes narrow. "If you dare spout nonsense here, you might just lose your manhood."
The room froze.
Before anyone else could react, Prince Chalibad, the eldest and most respected, brought his palm crashing against the back of Kulibad's head.
"You are a prince," Chalibad hissed, "how can you be so vulgar in front of the throne? Have some dignity."
Kulibad glared at him. "Prince? Prince? I'm sick of that word. Do you know how many children in this city alone carry that title because Father cannot resist spreading his seed everywhere? The countryside has more princes than grains of sand!"
A collective gasp rippled through the hall.
King Sinnabad's face darkened, embarrassment and anger mixing like a storm. He cleared his throat, a dangerous rumble vibrating through the throne room.
"Kulibad…" he growled, "do you want me to disown you?"
Before Kulibad could respond, a shrill voice cut through the air.
"Disown him? You?"
It was Kulibad's mother—the 12th wife of the king—storming forward, her bangles clattering with every furious gesture.
"How dare you even think of disowning the child you begot after inserting your sacred instrument into nearly every woman in Sanaria? Is there even a virgin left in this kingdom?"
The hall exploded into whispers.
Everyone knew this woman—quick to anger, quicker to ignite chaos—and everyone also knew that if she continued, the entire meeting might devolve into a shouting match.
Before her voice could rise again, Chalibad stepped forward, releasing the full weight of his authority.
"You will show respect to Father," he commanded sharply, "or you will be beheaded."
The silence that followed was instantaneous and absolute.
It was not just the words—Sanarians were used to threats.
It was the way Chalibad said it.
Cold. Clear. Final.
Servants trembled. Even the warriors stiffened.
There was a reason everyone feared and admired Chalibad.
He was wise, strategic, a man of balance… but also dangerous, terrifyingly so. He loved his allies fiercely—but his enemies rarely survived till dawn.
King Sinnabad leaned back slightly, pride flickering in his eyes.
If he had done anything right in his chaotic life, it was raising Chalibad to become the highest authority under the throne—above generals, above officials, above wives, and far above the thousands of children claiming royal blood.
Now, with the throne room quiet once more, all attention returned to the Sand Prophet.
And the prophecy he was about to reveal.