Prophets Sword / Season 1, Episode 7
Sands of Sacrifice
Amara’s sandal caught on a jagged ridge of sand-hardened stone, sending her stumbling forward, her hands clawing at the air before they slapped against the scorching ground. The heat seared her palms instantly, a sharp hiss escaping her teeth as she scrambled up, the weight of her cotton robe dragging in the relentless wind. Around her, the Sahara stretched in endless waves of amber and gold, the dunes rippling like the hide of some ancient beast under the midday sun. The air shimmered, thick with the metallic tang of dust, and every breath scraped her throat raw. She squinted through the haze, her eyes stinging, searching for the others. They were ahead, just barely—silhouettes warped by heat, trudging up the next rise with the camels groaning under their loads. “Keep up, scholar!” Kwame’s voice cut through the wind, sharp and mocking, as he twisted back to grin at her from beneath the wrap of his indigo headscarf. The stolen manuscript, rolled tight and tucked into the leather pouch at his hip, bounced with each of his long strides. Her manuscript. Her life’s work. Her fingers itched to tear it from him, to feel the brittle parchment under her skin again, but she clenched her fists instead, the grit under her nails biting into her flesh. “You’d be lost without me...