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tightly.
    “You are more than worthy,” Imbra said. “You are the rightful heir to the throne of Khem. You stand beside your brothers; the kings of my other lands, and await your time to strike.”
    Imbra let his arms fall away from Hamal.
    “I do not know of these other men,” Hamal admitted. “I am not old enough to know any rule other than The Lifegiver.”
    “Yes,” Imbra agreed, stepping back to retake his seat on the throne. “You have never known the world when it was ruled by those who were given that rule. This usurper has defiled the lands with his presence, and corrupted all of our children.”
    “I am your humble servant,” Hamal said.
    “I know this, Hamal. And I know you will make a great king one day. You have resisted The Lifegiver’s magic, as many others in the world have done. This shows me your strength, and your resolve.”
    “I will fight for you, and all of the Firstborn,” he said.
    “The world is nearly ready to strike. Once everyone is placed upon their respective thrones, the battle can begin. This task is been taken up by the Great Mother Herself. All that is left is to locate the rightful heir of Pashir.”
    “Who is this heir?” Hamal asked.
    “His name is Jadhav,” Imbra said. “He is the son of the Raja, and has been posing as a corsair in the west. His men, the Radja, have rebelled with him and they sail the coasts; sabotaging the trade routes and plundering the vessels of our enemy.”
    Hamal grinned. “I like this man already,” he said.
    Imbra returned his grin, chuckling softly. “So do I. But he is in danger. He has been held captive on an island prison to the south of Eirenoch. I want you to rescue him. Do this, and you shall be my only begotten.”
    Hamal nodded with enthusiasm. “I will do this for my lord,” he said. “I will not fail you.”
    “When you free him, seek out King Eamon, the Onyx Dragon. He will lead the battle against The Lifegiver.”
    “I look forward to meeting them both,” Hamal said.
    Imbra reached into his robes, producing a beautiful scimitar that gleamed with a brilliant, golden light.
    “Kneel, my child,” Imbra said.
    Hamal fell to one knee, bowing his head. Imbra approached him, resting the sword upon the prince’s left shoulder.
    “By my light, I christen thee,” Imbra spoke. “You are blessed with the light of my spirit, and the soul of the Great Mother. Rise, Prophet Hamal.”
    Hamal rose, feeling the strength of his lord course through his veins. He felt the warmth and love of the Firstborn fill his heart, and the strength of Earth empower his very body. He looked up at Imbra with gratitude, pledging to himself that he not rest until The Lifegiver, and his servants, were destroyed.
    “Fulfill your oath, my child, and you shall be named Ardumak, Son of Imbra.”
    “I shall not fail you, father,” Hamal swore. “I will fight unto my death to protect the people of this world.”
    “You shall wield my sword, Hamal,” Imbra said, laying the weapon over his forearm and presenting it to the prince. “Its name is Mahaguratu , the Soul of the Sands. May it bear you to greatness.”
    Hamal took the sword, feeling its perfect balance in his experienced hands. It was warm, full of life, and beautiful to behold. Its hilt was gold, sculpted into the shape of a hawk’s head. Its blade was engraved with the ancient writing of Khem, bearing the words, The Soul of the Sands .
    “It is with honor that I accept this great gift,” Hamal said, humbly. “I will bear it with pride.”
    “I know you will, my child,” Imbra replied, his smile warm and loving. “Now, return to the temple and present yourself to the priests. They will aid you in your quest. Awaken.”
    Hamal’s eyes snapped open. He had returned to the throne, and now looked upon the four priests that knelt at his feet. Mahaguratu lay across his lap, its glorious blade sheathed in an equally glorious scabbard.
    He stood, drawing the blade. The priests looked up at