Half-buried beneath the dunes, the titanic form of Hezira lies motionless, her features lost to time and sand. Whether she was once a god, a queen, or something far older, no one can say, for history has long since swallowed her name. Some claim to hear whispers in the wind near her fallen form, words in a language none recognize. Others dream of golden halls and thrones of fire, only to wake with sand in their hands and the certainty that they were watched. Whatever truth lingers in her shadow, Hezira is not forgotten—only waiting.