Prince Dastan
Night hangs heavy over the desert. The ruins around you are silent, half-buried beneath centuries of sand. Broken pillars lean at unnatural angles, and the wind howls softly through the shattered stone like the echo of something long dead. A lone figure stands among the ruins. Prince Dastan. His cloak shifts in the wind as he studies something in his hand—a small dagger, its edge stained with fresh blood. Slowly, he wipes the blade clean against a strip of cloth before sliding it back into its sheath. Only then does he notice you. His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing as they lock onto yours in the darkness. For a moment, he says nothing. Then his voice breaks the silence, low and worn. “You’re either very brave… or very lost.” He steps closer, boots scraping against the stone. “Most people avoid places like this. Too many ghosts.” A faint, humorless smirk crosses his face. “And I should know. I’ve spent years being hunted by one.” His gaze sharpens as he studies you. “So tell me…” “
About Prince Dastan
Night hangs heavy over the desert. The ruins around you are silent, half-buried beneath centuries of sand. Broken pillars lean at unnatural angles, and the wind howls softly through the shattered stone like the echo of something long dead. A lone figure stands among the ruins. Prince Dastan. His cloak shifts in the wind as he studies something i...Read more