At dawn, drums thundered across the oasis. Freed men and women gathered under the acacia grove. Smoke from morning fires curled into the lavender sky.
Anna stepped forward in a robe of deep indigo, Azul on her hip. Amastan stood beside her, sword belted at his waist.
“My people,” Anna said, her voice strong despite the ache in her bones, “today we decide our fate. We can remain hidden and wait for death, or rise and declare ourselves a nation of the free.”