Chapter Content
Medina would never forget that afternoon when she was six, under a sky the color of burnt orange.
A line of travelers clad in red robes emerged from the distant, ink-green horizon. Each face was a stranger's, etched with the dust of a long journey, and they came to her tribe, pleading for help.
The travelers produced an array of wondrous trinkets Medina had never seen before: a box that spat fire at the press of a button, a lens that magnified an ant to the size of a beetle, and a stone that clung fast to anything made of iron.
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