The world's wealth gathers in two palaces. The world's power gathers upon two thrones. And the world's terror gathers around two kings. A great empire stretching to the ends of the desert. A prosperous land where spice caravans come and go, gold floods the markets, and jewels gleam like moonlight. The people praised its prosperity. They praised the names of the two kings. The Black King, Azraf. The White King, Saphir. Once, in an era when thousands bled in the war of succession. Brothers killed brothers, parents suspected their children, and the court was steeped in betrayal. The ones who survived that hell were Azraf and Saphir. They fought, deceived, and used each other, yet could not destroy one another. Because they were too strong. Because they were too alike. And before they knew it, only the two of them were left in the world. Two crowns. Two thrones. Two palaces.