South-east, where the Grand Continent gives way to an immense plain of sand, twelve oasis-cities live by night. Whitewashed domes and lapis-blue tilework cool under the moon while storytellers gather at the bazaar to recite the routes between wells in long, exact songs. The Aurélaens do not draw their caravan paths. They sing them — fifty to two hundred verses, learned by heart, never written down.
Cora spent eight months in Aurel-Khar at twenty-four. She left someone behind, and a teacher who knew her grandfather but said nothing. When she returns, the songs will not be the same songs.
Available in a future season.
