Seriphina's desert wasteland generally forfeited the concept of life on the surface, especially to the naked eye. Below the seemingly endless sand dunes and sharp blue sky devoid of cloud, life swarmed in the form of hard-shelled beetles, lizards and dragons, and sometimes, seeds of plants long dormant, waiting for rain. In the middle of the desert, amongst flat beds of stone and rock that dove deep into the earth, a city reigned, protected by massive, thick walls and guards at every entrance. Camels bearing merchants and traders from distant villages and nomadic settlements went through the wide gates in a thin stream, burdened with silks and cotton garments of various colors, spices and foods not found for miles, and jewels for the aristocrats. Candles and bundles of incense were carried in sacks, offerings for the gods and the royals.

Outside the city, miniature castles acted as mausoleums for pharaohs of the past, stretching back hundreds of years. Buried with them, their families as they passed as well, and their favorite belongings. Below the mausoleums, in caverns that stretched far and wide in huge mazes, a gold statue commemorating every year they were in power. The buildings were scattered far and wide throughout Seriphina, circling the capital and the outlying villages that housed the workers of the city. The land itself was named after the city, which in many scrolls it's written that the city stood before Seriphina's sands had even come to lie outside its walls.

Aziza stood atop the highest balcony of the palace, which stood at the back of the city itself. One massive road of alabaster led to the gold and bronze entrance, which was frequented by well-liked merchants offering their rare wares to her. And her husband.

She had only recently been married to the Pharaoh, who had chosen her from the thousands of young women within or outside the city. She had never any intention of marriage, as the thought very nearly made her cringe. Indeed it had been difficult to go through the ceremony without showing obvious discomfort; awkwardness, of course. Aziza had always been the awkward type, and now... She was second to the Pharaoh. She would be scrutinized, watched, studied... She would always have eyes upon her, or so she thought. Royalty was always kept carefully guarded and watched. She sighed, bringing up her bronze hand and brushing it through her hair. It was kept long, almost past her waist, and now it was braided with thin gold ribbon. Her dark eyes watched the world below the palace, an oasis surrounded by a wall. Thin roads of packed dirt wound through gardens, fields, homes, shops, and ponds. It was a beautiful place, but she preferred to look at it from her family's home.

Aziza stepped away from the balcony and toward a bench nearby. In a sudden gust of wind, her white silk robe billowed out behind her, startling her a bit out of her stupor. She needed someone to talk to. Someone that wasn't her husband.