In the ancient past, Central Continent.
"Have you ever seen a Tomb's birth?" Ismera looked sideways from atop camelback, looking at Sett, who was on a camel of his own beside her.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the endless dunes. Waves of heat shimmered above the sand, and the occasional gust of wind sent ripples through the surface, shaping and reshaping the desert like an artist sculpting clay.
Sett placed his hand against the sun, head wrapped in a turban.
Ahead of them, half-buried ruins peeked from the dunes, their weathered stones standing as a testament to time's slow, inevitable erosion. The scent of dust and age lingered in the air—a smell older than history itself.
"Tomb's birth. There is such a thing?" he asked.
"Yes. Myths say that Tombs are a gift from Gods to us mortals, but I think that is not the case. I think Tombs are a way for this chaotic world to gain some order."
Sett blinked. "I don't understand."
