I thought I had lost it. It had been swallowed up in the sand clouds, hidden from sight; but there it is, down below. The cloud -- the storm -- is finally clearing.
The shimmer and glare from the coppery-gold towers are nearly blinding. I angle towards the ground and make my descent, weaving my way between the spires and collonades to light upon the polished marble streets. The bustle and noise of the City is unrelenting. Merchants and tradesmen clamor for my attention, trying to shout above the din. I ignore it all, as I roll up my carpet and strap it onto my back.
I reach into my pocket and withdraw a handful of sand, gathered from the storm. I toss it onto the ground, where it forms a roughly triangular shape pointing off to the east. I begin walking in that direction, even as the wind wipes away my guide.
Once again, I have returned to the City of Brass. And once again, I search for that which has been taken from me.
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