I walk apart from the Sand Women. I brush my hand through my dark black hair. It was tousled, as usual it would never lie flat. I sighed wondering over what had happened over the course of the last few days. I had discovered first that I had extraordinary Magic, and second that I was soon to meet my mother and father (and I had thought I was orphan, silly me) I fingered the Staff of Tyme, knowing my ancestor had held it at one point in time. I still felt guilty about Lyfea. Some Sand Women were still mourning for her. I know it sounds silly for a Wizard to feel terrible about it, when we hate the Sand Women, but murdering her makes me feel sick. Other Wizards would pride theirselves for the feat. Zulu approaches me, the moonlight reflecting blue off her ebony hair. Her green eyes meet mine, “We near the centre of the desert Loria Aeryn.” I blush at the title.
“Please do not call me that, Aeryn is enough title for me,”
she smiled mysteriously, “But it is who you are, Lord Aeryn.”