Desert of Vanished Souls SEASON -Episode 43 – The Boy and the Sandstorm

Very nive

Inspired by @Diane-de-la-Cheneraye

Inspired by

Amastan entered, his indigo robes coated with sand. He knelt beside them, resting a rough hand on Azul’s tiny chest.

“Do not fear the storm, my son,” he whispered. “We are born of desert winds. They do not break us. They shape us.”

Anna looked at him, tears brimming.

> Perhaps this is what it means to be free – to belong to nothing but the earth and the wind.

A fierce sirocco rose from the south, turning sky and earth to gold and fire. Inside their tent, Azul cried, frightened by the roaring winds.

Anna cradled him, singing an old German lullaby. Her voice quivered, carried away by the gale’s scream.