If Archibald counted the times he had visited this desert, it would be less than a human could count on one hand. When he first entered the threshold of this land, this Helovia, a lion-maned King named Ra had given him and his brother the opportunity to seek shelter here. There were many ways in which Archibald was thankful he had not chosen Ra's offer, and one of them was that soon after, the spirited Kri had taken this land as her own through war. The war of the Tuuli was the only war of Helovia--since his time here--that Archibald had not participated. There was power in that, somehow, and to this day Archibald knew that was never his war. Had he participated in the bloodshed on these desert sands, the impact of it would weigh on his mind like his participation in the Aurora Basin's invasion of the World's Edge and this very land. The Dauntless lost one of his own in that battle, and in some way he suspected  that Ktulu and Ophelia never forgave him for sending their uncle to his death. While the twins may never admit it, or if it was even real, Archibald felt it.

These desert sands played a larger role in Archibald's metanarrative than he could understand. Beyond that, however, these sands had given Archibald some form of comfort the last few seasons. His children had taken refuge here after their mother's death. His beautiful Macaria had been injured too much to attempt to take her to the Falls. Instead, she stayed here, under her mammoth guardians watchful eyes. As bastardous as he knew his sons to be, Archibald knew just as well that beneath their protection no harm would fall to Macaria--his sons, his muscle and sinew and seed, would die to save their sister that was the perfect mixture of the Dauntless and the shadowmere. Now, it was time to bring her home.

It was also time to speak with the winged leadership of this place. Megaera, the sultana, had visited his borders, but there had been no true diplomacy discussed in their meeting. Archibald's mind shifted to Gaucho, and where a boiling anger would have once rose in his breast at the thought of the Wildfire, instead there only throbbed a dull ache. It was not untrue that Gaucho had caused his family immense suffering--but his part in it was not the ring leader. The primitive dun was but a pawn, a piece on the chess board. No one in Helovia was anything different than that. "Leaders of the desert, I call to you." Archibald bellowed, weight shifting to stand firm beneath the boiling sun. Loretta stood at his side, tail curled over her back.