They say where one goes, the other follows.
In the sprawling expanse of the cosmos, Paul Atreides and Seraphina Sylvane are bound together by an unbreakable tether. Despite the light years and planetary divides throughout the Known Universe, their...
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Gurney Halleck almost couldn't believe his eyes. The tales of the native Fremen, dwelling in their thousands... probably millions across the deep Sietches of Arrakis, had always seemed like just that-tales, legends spun in the dust of a world that devoured men. But now, as the endless line of desert warriors marched alongside them, Gurney found himself struggling to reconcile the stories with the reality unfolding before him. These fighters, weathered by the harshness of their world, moved with a silent, lethal grace. And yet, what truly unsettled him was the profound reverence in their eyes as they cast furtive glances toward Paul Atreides.
Paul, Gurney had always known, was destined for greatness, a leader in the making. Leto's only son. Yet, what he witnessed now was something altogether different, something beyond mere leadership. These Fremen did not simply respect Paul-they worshipped him, their gazes filled with a mixture of awe and something deeper, more primal. It was a worship Gurney had seen only in the most devout of believers, those who would die a thousand deaths for their deity.
Worship. The word echoed in Gurney's mind, a stark reminder of a conversation he'd once had with Duke Leto. They had spoken of the Bene Gesserit's manipulations, of their ancient and twisted designs around this planet. The Duke, ever perceptive, had been aware of their influence, just as Gurney was. He had spoken of the dangers of mixing religion with politics, of the power that came with such belief. But to see it manifest now, here on Arrakis, was something else entirely.
The first time Gurney had set foot on this barren, desolate world, he had seen the desperation in the eyes of the people. They had cheered, they had screamed, they had reached out for their 'Lisan al-Gaib,' the messiah who would deliver them from their endless suffering. And now, with every step they took, that faith seemed to solidify, to grow stronger. The presence of Seraphina Sylvane, Thalion's daughter, only intensified it. She walked beside Chani, the young Fremen woman who seemed to radiate suspicion and protectiveness in equal measure, her dark blue eyes flicking back toward their group with a wary, almost fierce intensity. It was a look Gurney recognized all too well-the look of someone prepared to defend what they held dear, no matter the cost. The twins, Fern and Alder, followed closely behind, silent and observant.
"How many men with you?" Gurney asked, breaking the silence, his voice low as he moved between Paul and Duncan.
"Two hundred," Paul replied, his tone measured, almost resigned. He knew what Gurney was getting at. The older man's eyes had been sweeping over the Fremen since they began this trek, calculating, planning. Gurney was a strategist through and through, always thinking two steps ahead, and Paul knew the cogs in his mind were already turning.
"Two hundred?!" Gurney's voice rose involuntarily, disbelief sharpening his tone, echoing off the towering rocks that loomed over them like ancient sentinels. Chani, the Fremen woman walking beside Seraphina, shot him a glare so cold it could have frozen the sands of the desert. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she hushed him with a harsh look, the intensity of her gaze daring him to make another outburst.
