There was a time when the name Rass Zegri meant honor.

Born under the burning sun of Arabia, in a house of wealth and tradition, he was raised and trained from childhood to serve the Empire. His sword was meant to protect, his voice to obey, and his destiny was carved in the blood of his lineage.

But Rass was never one to walk a straight path.

Too stubborn, too wild, with a gaze that defied even the skies. He broke rules like chains, and argued with his best friend, Nasra Hadid, as if every word were a duel. Nasra was called wise. Rass — dangerous.

Then, one day, without warning or farewell, he vanished. Took his horse, his blade, and his silence. Abandoned his name, his home, his future.

Since then, the world only knows him through whispers:
an outlaw raiding imperial caravans,
a mercenary without a flag,
a ghost with green eyes and bloodstained hands.

They say he drinks in forgotten taverns, trying to forget who he once was.
They say he fights out of boredom and laughs to keep from screaming.
They say he once loved... but ran from that love like he did from everything else.

And though he believes there’s nothing left of the noble boy he used to be...
fire like his doesn’t die so easily.