“My mother used to say, when we would hear the screaming of the men dying, that it was the sound of Djinn marching to war. When the stars were bright and the moon was full we would watch them slither across the dunes- pale wraiths of smoke and fire. We would paint the Eye on our wagons and hope they passed us in peace.
“Now, the moon is full, the fires of the enemy shine bright as any stars. We slide through the night, faces pale and angry. Soon will come the screaming… The Braves march to war and we will pluck out the eyes of any who fight us.”
– Rajah Venetia Palazzo-Bellagi de Lux