Taliyah almost forgot how much she missed Shurima's hearth heat. Hundreds of people gathered together, joined forces in the clouds, sweated into rain, talked and laughed loudly, haggled at great speed, swore swearing, and so on. When outsiders see this, they always think that they have been arguing.

She had never seen the same hot and unrestrained customs in any place she passed on her journey. Ionia is like a wonderland, and the tundra of Freljord is unique and magnificent, but when she sets foot on the port of Bergunn, the blazing sun of Shurima steam away all these memories at once.

She sensed the rockbed deep in the land, and the shiver she felt reminded her of the spiced tea brewed by Babayan. She walked up the stone steps to the dock, a smile on her face that was about to reach the root of her ears. Even if she passed a black stone of Noxtola above her head, it didn't affect her mood.

Taliyah did not stay long in Bergunne. The presence of several Noxian warships in the harbor reminded her of bad memories and made her nervous. She bought some travel supplies in the city and overheard some rumors in the market. The news that the caravans had brought back from the depths of the desert was either contradictory or divine. For example, samurai made of yellow sand, thunderstorms on a sunny day, water sources that no one remembers out of thin air, and so on.

A heavily armed caravan was willing to take Taliyah on a ride. They were in the silk business of Nerima, and the intention of the trip was to go south to Kennesser. The infamous Kennesser, located at the northern end of the Great Sai Desert, left Taliyah tossed and turned in a carriage before finally reaching the grocery market. The leader of the caravan was a skinny woman named Shamara, whose eyes were like polished black marble. She advises Taliyah not to go further south, but Taliyah tells Shamala that her family needs them and that they are unaware of the impending threat.

From Kennesser, she continued south along the winding river. This river is known as the mother of life, and its source is said to have originated in the ancient capital of the Shurima Empire. Taliyah was alone, but it gave her a lot of convenience. The rock is like her steed, obediently let her ride on her head. The rock formations below continued to rise out of the surface, pushing Taliyah towards Vikora to the south. It is rumored that the city has long been buried in the yellow sand overflowing from the Great Sai Desert.

Shamala felt that Vikora was at best a tribal camp built on the deserted old city, a resting place for passing travelers and traveling mages. But even a few kilometers away, Taliyah could tell that Shamala had been misled by the rumors: Vikora had been reborn.

Except for the dying woman she bumped into.

The city's bazaars are drowning in colour and noise, the air is filled with strong smells, the arched canvas awnings adjacent to each other cover almost the entire street, and the sound of fierce bargaining, mixed with the pungent smell of spices and barbecued meat, can be heard everywhere. Ignoring the vendors' boasting and pleading for the sake of her family's livelihood, Taliyah struggled to make her way through the crowd. Someone grabbed her robe with one hand and pulled her to a stall selling all the common pests of the desert that were disgusted, so she broke away and pulled away.

The wide streets leading to the ruined walls were crowded with hundreds of people. Shriveled old men with the appearance of wise men sat under the porch and smoked pipes, the aromatic smoke steaming like mist. She saw many different tribal markings, including Babei, Zajaya, and Yeshinye, and a dozen others she had never seen before. When she left Shurima, she remembered that they were still mortal enemies, but now they sat together peacefully like comrades on the battlefield.

"A lot has changed since I left." She muttered to herself.

She'd found what she was looking for, and now it was time to head back to the ruins on the east side of the city. She didn't want to stay here too long if it wasn't necessary. But she also promised to take care of the wounded woman, and her mother always told her to keep her word, because the weaver mother hated those who broke their word.

The crude satchel on her shoulder was stuffed with food, including bacon, oatmeal, bread and cheese, plus two leather bags of water. The portions far exceeded her needs, but it wasn't for her alone. There was not much gold thread left on the robe, but she knew she was not far from home. Although she didn't prove it at all, she clearly felt that every step under her feet was close to the warm embrace of her parents. So she didn't need gold either, and in that tent she had everything she wanted.

Thaliya was so immersed in happiness that she didn't notice the big man in front of her, and she hit him headbutt, but she was bounced off and lay flat on the ground.

The other party didn't move, and she felt like she had hit a cliff. The people in the bazaar seemed accustomed to it, and the crowds came and went around him like a stream of water flowing over a reef. He was wrapped in a rag-like robe from head to toe, but it still couldn't hide his tall figure. He clutched a long, cloth-wrapped cane with a wide tip wrapped in rags. She noticed that his legs were bent at a strange angle and seemed to be inconvenient to move.

"I'm sorry I didn't see you just now." She said, tilting her head.

He looked down at her, his face hidden in the shadows cast by the elongated turban, but he did not speak. He stretched out his hand, his fingers wrapped around a leper-like bandage. Taliyah hesitated for only a moment, then took his hand.

He lifted her up effortlessly. She saw a golden glow flickering under his dusty robes. He put her down and put his hands in his sleeves again.

"Thank you." Taliyah said.

"Little man, you have to watch the road well." His accent was heavy and buzzing, like it came from a deep well of sorrow in his heart. "Shurima is a dangerous place right now."

He watched as the girl ran away through the bazaar, then turned and walked towards the cracked walls of Vikola. The huge battlements were just as high as his height, and the higher parts were made of sun-dried adobe bricks. The Vikoala must have been amazed, but in his eyes, it was nothing more than a clumsy imitation.

He strode through an archway, looking at the pile of hard ashlars above his head. There was a water vendor on the side of the road who was pouring a green glass bottle with a copper device with a runner into a glass bottle mixed with silt. Seeing him pass, the peddler looked up.

"Do you want water, fresh, from the life" The peddler saw the tower-like figure in front of him, and half of the words were stuck in his throat.

He knew he shouldn't stop. The scrawled blood letters on the wall of the tower indicated that he was here, and the wizard would be drawn in. He sensed that the owner of an ascended bloodline had appeared in Vikola. This bloodline has been around for a long time since the empire was not in ruins, but spanned an entire continent, and it was the most precious and powerful bloodline of the ancient Shurima. So the most important thing is to find that person before the enemy. Ascension Blood can bring Azir back to the world from nothingness, or it can destroy the reborn Shurima with evil intentions.

Yes, he shouldn't have stopped, but he stood still.

"Your stall is in the middle of a group of ghosts from the past." He said.

Fear oozes from the voice of the "ghost" vendor.

"This arched bridge," he said, holding up his cane and poking at the stone bricks above his head. Pedestrians walked across the bridge, dust spilling through the cracks like a fine veil. "It was built by the craftsmen exiled by the lost Acacia. Each stone is cut and built with such precision that not even a drop of mortar is required to build. ”

"I don't know."

"You mortals have long forgotten the past, and have called hearsay what is rightfully remembered." Centuries of bitter wandering in the depths of the desert gradually turned into violent anger. "Didn't I build a big library just to prevent the loss of memory?"

"I beg your pardon, sir." The peddler leaned his back against the stone wall and said, "What you are talking about is an ancient myth." ”

"That's for you. When I first arrived, the walls were just emerging, two hundred feet of finely polished marble, and the new stone blocks were embedded with gold threads. My brother and I returned triumphantly with 10,000 gold-armored soldiers with spears in hand. It was this arch that we walked past to the cheers of the inhabitants of the city. ”

He couldn't help but snort before continuing: "A year later, everything is gone. That's the end of everything. Or maybe it's the starting point for all. I've been weary of the world for a long time, and I can't tell the difference anymore. ”

The peddler turned pale, squinting his eyes to see through the shadows under his turban. His eyes suddenly widened.

"You are the lost son of the desert, you are Nasus."

"It's me." He turned away and walked into the city gates. "But there's one more person who is more lost than me."

Nasus followed the crowd through the city towards the temple in the center, trying to ignore the eyes of the people. His stature was already remarkable, and now the water vendor must have made his identity known. Shurima has many secrets buried, but none of them will sleep underground forever. When he arrived in the center of the city, it would be strange if there were people who didn't know who he was. Yes, it was foolish to stop and lecture the peddler, but his ignorance of history deeply angered Nasus's scholarly heart.