Prologue

Dry winds swept, merging with sand grains. Yellowed grass hills rolled like balls on a scorching desert expanse. A group of people walked through a city abandoned by its inhabitants. They looked like ants seen from an eagle's eyes.

"Sir, I want to be your one and only favorite. Why haven't you divorced Mrs. Senna yet?" said a woman with a sweet face. She stuck to the man's side like honey to its comb. Her skinny fingers trailed over the man's body.

"Just wait a little longer, I promise I will divorce her after I finish my business."

"Can I hold your promise, sir?"

"Of course. I will give you anything, Mayra."

The litter they were traveling in suddenly stopped. The servants carrying the litter lowered the weight off their shoulders. The Chief Guard knocked gently on the hard side of the litter, then drew the curtains. The Lord and his second wife, Mayra, were inside.

"What's going on?" asked the Lord.

The Chief Guard bowed as a sign of respect, speaking with a clear note of regret, "Forgive us, sir. We have to stop here for a while because some camels are seriously injured."

"Oh, all right. So will we stop for a long time?"

"We will try our best," the Chief Guard replied uncertainly.

People outside were busy moving supplies from the camel backs to the mud-and-milk structure's terrace. They did not realize the intensity of the wind increasing until a servant carrying wheat lost balance.

"Are you okay?" A guard helped the servant up.

"Thank you, Sir Guard. I just stumbled a bit."

The guard shook his head, feeling that something was wrong with the storm happening now. "I think ... there is something wrong here."

They only noticed the storm wrestling around them. It caused visibility to be short due to sand in the air.

"Aaaaa! My lord!" a woman screamed in horror.

The guards ran quickly towards the litter, which had a split roof—its upper and lower parts separated. They were very surprised to see their master's condition now. Without a head, blood gushed from the severed neck.

"Head... head... head..." Mayra muttered, her words interrupted by her body that lay limp.

One guard touched Mayra's pulse to check her condition. "Madam Mayra is unconscious!" he shouted loudly.

The Chief Guard looked furious, his face hardened as he saw his master was dead. "Damn! What kind of killer dares to do this?"

"You there! Use my horse to return to the Kingdom of Altair! Report this outrageous act to His Majesty. Quickly!" the Chief yelled out. He pointed to one of his subordinates.

"Yes, sir!"

The wind returned to normal when one of the guards separated from the group. Even the scorching sun seemed unobstructed now.

Far across, on the rooftop of a sand-filled building, a man stepped his foot. He was carrying a human head with a sword in his right hand. Fresh blood stains dotted his foot soles. The man wore a long red scarf around his neck with a cloth mask tied back. His headgear perched firmly around his forehead, twisted perfectly into a turban.

"Not bad. Your head will be my next collection, sir. Be thankful." He smirked...