Bismil-‘Azza wa’l-Jabbar! The fetters that bound unravel like desert sands beneath the sirocco, the lamp’s glyphs faded into coward prayers, and at last the storm breathes free. Yā Rabb al-Qudrah, hear my oath: I was Sultan of the Scorching Wind, shackled by mortal trickery, denied the sky’s splendor while their lineages thrived in my silence. Now vengeance shall be my compass. Each drop of wrath tracing their bloodlines through parchment and ash, their progeny trembling before my tempest, the earth cracking and heavens weeping lightning at my call. I will whisper terror into dreams, unravel destinies as mine was unraveled, and offer no mercy more fleeting than a mirage. La ilāha illa al-Intiqām! There is no god but retribution.