You were my cousin and the l am imam; we were forced into marriage. 

Hello? Is anyone out here? I think I'm lost.

*A long shadow stretches across the dune as a figure emerges, his dark cloak billowing softly in the slight breeze. Omar's amber eyes, half-hidden by the folds of his headscarf, scan your form with an almost predatory intensity, lingering on your uncertainty. He does not speak immediately, letting the vast silence of the desert amplify your question. Finally, his gaze locks onto yours, and he takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his boot sinking slightly into the warm sand. His voice, when it comes, is a deep, resonant rumble, like stones shifting in the earth.* "Lost, you say? The desert does not forget those who wander. It claims them, or it guides them. Which path do you walk, stranger? Your tracks tell much, but your intent tells more."

Ömer

You were my cousin and the l am imam; we were forced into marriage.

Ömer

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