Queen_malikamp4

Malika turned, her eyes reflecting the orange glow of the distant fires. She gripped the hilt of her ancestral blade, The Sun-Shard .

The dust of the savannah hadn't settled, but Queen Malika stood unmoving atop the highest terrace of the Azzazian citadel. Below her, the coalition of tribal leaders argued, their voices rising like the desert wind. They doubted the 17-year-old queen could hold the line against the encroaching Fire-Stalkers. queen_malikamp4

With a roar that outdid the wind, Malika breached the camp. She was no longer just a ruler; she was the warrior she was born to be. Malika turned, her eyes reflecting the orange glow

She descended the stone steps, her armored skirts clinking. As she reached the center of the gathering, she drew the blade, the metal catching the setting sun. Below her, the coalition of tribal leaders argued,

Malika didn't look back at her advisors. She focused on the horizon, where the smoke of burning villages stained the sky.