The sun crests the horizon of the Ijinn Sea, casting a radiant shimmer over the quiet waters. The sheet of daylight cascades across the obsidian obelisk, barnacled at its base where it meets the glistening sea and standing a hundred feet tall overlooking the Shining Coast. The light of the sun engages in a melee with the everburning flame in the tower’s open cupola. It fights for entrance as many do to learn the secrets hidden within the obelisk. The Islish port on the Shining Coast is the first to be illuminated by the sun. The rousters on the wharfs break from unloading massive galleons for coin either to pray or simply to wipe their brows and assess the sun to decide whether the day will be tolerable. In one of several watchtowers on the coastal end of the piers, a dockmaster lowers his spyglass from the brilliance of the sunlight, his attention diverted from a possible pirate sloop crewed by Nomads thirsty for an expeditious coastal raid. The impartial daylight moves on, gifting the Grand Cathedral a shadow cast over the keep and barracks that surround it. Calls of prayer echo across all of Islis, but the sun falls upon Muqad, the holy enclave of the city and the religious seat of the desert as a whole. Templars, the priest-soldiers of Islis, and laymen alike look upon the majesty of the bluish-white edifice, flecks of mica glimmering. Inside, high priests conclude their prayers, one of five devotions that will transpire throughout the day. They go to consult with the Qirish Circle on matters of theology and religious direction. South of Muqad the sun falls over Old Islis, a tumultuous district of wayward denizen houses. Acolytes draw down blinds in their alchemical workshops worried that the light or the heat may catalyze their precarious concoctions. Soldiers of the Old Islish Guard shield their eyes as the daylight cascades over them on their way to the matriarch’s hall to discuss conflicts both civil and foreign. The Sandhawks stand vigil over their libraries, the knowledge contained within scribed by a violent history of blood and sand. The bazaar to the west of the port has already begun to drone with trade by the time the sun falls upon it, inviting the merchants to lower the shades on their tents. Silver and gold chits exchange hands while vigilant charges scan the tidal crowd for urchins seeking to abscond with wares. The sunlight gives shadows to warehouses that line the dusty sandstone streets smooth from use by carts bringing hash from Old Islis in the south and the noble district from the north. By midday, the Islish nobles in the northern district of the city socialize and conduct business in palatial marble villas escaping the heat into the luxury of servants fanning palm fronds. Tall, decorative towers dot the district and represent the bloodline domains, signifying the closest structure the city has to royalty. In truth, power is gained in Islis not by the name of a family or a house, but by their wealth and influence. Even the church succumbs to the authority of coin, evidenced by armored Templars patrolling the pristine streets of the district. As the sun begins its descent having already blanketed the desert in its usual oppressive heat, the shadows of Islis’ outer walls turn inward. They are tall, constructed of sandstone and lime and topped with metered crenelations along the length. They snake around the city breaking only for the western, southern, and eastern gates leading to the bazaar, Old Islis, and the port respectively. The daylight perseveres in the Qirish desert and dusk forms around Islis slowly. Templar guardians stand in the watchtowers and gaze upon a sea of sand stretching further than the eye can see in every direction. What they cannot see beyond that horizon is what haunts the holy city: The Black Empire, deep in the western desert given life on the banks of the Khatoum. The Goddess-Queen amasses her slave army and terrible war elephants ravenous for battle. As the sun slips below the horizon, she sits upon her gold-clad dais, closes her eyes, and breathes in the cooling desert air. She is filled with a lust for war that whispers to her and when she opens her eyes, she gazes over the sands to the east, toward Islis.