The sun dipped low as Liria and Enara trudged toward the looming silhouette of the royal castle. Their footsteps dragged, their breaths came in labored puffs, and their appearances were… less than regal.
Liria glanced down at herself and groaned. Her once-pristine tunic was a scorched ruin, torn and singed in a dozen places. Her trousers had fared no better, now resembling a patchwork of soot and holes. Her hair, usually tied neatly, was sticking out at odd angles, and a streak of dirt ran down her cheek.
Next to her, Enara looked no better. Her dark locks were matted with sweat and ash, and the hems of her elegant outfit were frayed and blackened. Her normally radiant demon-princess aura was thoroughly overshadowed by her bedraggled state.
And nestled smugly in Liria's arms was Ananara, the Sovereign of the Sweet Sands. Its tiny limbs twitched happily as it hummed a cheerful tune that seemed to mock their disheveled condition.
