Some people think the desert is void of life. There are hot, dry winds, and sands that burn hotter than any Northern fire. There are harpies and other terrible creatures that prey on humans. They say water is scarce, and the people there are ruthless and cruel. He thought that this was funny. 

As the youngest son of the land's only ruler, he spent his whole life in the desert. Though he had a vivid imagination, it was hard to picture a land that would be more beautiful. There were oasises of cool, fresh water, cacti taller than any palace that grew the most tender and sweetest of fruits, and hidden treasures in abundance. The people lived good lives, from the members of the royal court to the vagabonds that herded livestock. 

He lived a cushy live in the palace, eating figs and taking baths with the most fracrant of oils and essences. He walked barefoot on the gold-tiled floors, and wore robes spun from the silk of the fire moth- very warm. He had three older brothers, that didn't like him very much because he was favored by their father for having a strong heart and soul. He was the one who was elected by the Royal Council to be the one to take the coronation trial and inherit the kingdom. This was partially due to the fact he was the only prince in the family who didn't go around calling people 'peasants'. 

Even now, Cyrus was smiling from ear to ear. It had been a week ever since he had been given his first task by the Royal Court- to bring a feature from the fearsome winged lion! He had traveled to the mountainside village of Hamza, 
in high hopes the villagers would give him useful information on the elusive and regal beast. Hamza had reportedly been attacked by such a creature, and they believed that the winged lion had a home somewhere high atop the mountains. Cyrus was by himself. It was against tradition for him to receive any royal help. Only the common man could help him now. 

Hamza hadn't been attacked in years- with good reason. They left thirty of their prized livestock in a large pen near the edge of their town and at the base of the mountain as a tribute for the creature, and in return, they were not attacked. They had begged the prince not to be so headstrong, but he was more stubborn than any animal they had seen. Cyrus had decided to wait with the herd, in hopes he could encounter the lion. 

Cyrus was a beauty. He had tanned honey skin, much lighter than most desert people. His eyes were a fiery golden color, and his amazingly soft dark hair crowned his look. He was wearing very light leather armor no more than an inch thick. He wore a silk hat reminiscent of a sailor's. He had but a single rapier. 

Sitting amongst the sheep, the teenaged prince held his breath, afraid the lion would come any moment. It was very dark