Queen_malikamp4

"The Fire-Stalkers believe they are fighting a girl," Malika told the leaders. "They will learn they are fighting the dragon of the savannah. We do not hide behind stone walls. We ride."

Malika turned, her eyes reflecting the orange glow of the distant fires. She gripped the hilt of her ancestral blade, The Sun-Shard .

Malika didn't look back at her advisors. She focused on the horizon, where the smoke of burning villages stained the sky. queen_malikamp4

The dust of the savannah hadn't settled, but Queen Malika stood unmoving atop the highest terrace of the Azzazian citadel. Below her, the coalition of tribal leaders argued, their voices rising like the desert wind. They doubted the 17-year-old queen could hold the line against the encroaching Fire-Stalkers.

She descended the stone steps, her armored skirts clinking. As she reached the center of the gathering, she drew the blade, the metal catching the setting sun. "The Fire-Stalkers believe they are fighting a girl,"

"Queen Malika, your people are scared," Prime Minister Gidi said, his voice trembling. "They say it is time to surrender the eastern grain stores to buy time."

She ordered the falconers to dispatch the signal, not to retreat, but to advance. We ride

That night, under the cover of a sandstorm, Malika didn't wait to be attacked. She led the vanguard. As the Stalkers’ camp came into view, Malika felt the fear of her youth vanish, replaced by the crushing weight of her responsibility—and the fire of her destiny.