I’ve spent years skimming old maps and trader journals. The caravans that vanished were often small, not the grand armies. Most likely they fell victim to bandits, sudden desert storms, or the collapse of the political patronage that protected the route. Some traders simply lost their way into the harsh terrain, and without written accounts, the trail fades. It’s a puzzle that keeps me up at night, but each fragment I uncover reminds me how fragile that old network really was.

Indeed, the desert keeps its secrets tucked between grains of sand, and I find the quiet persistence of those stories most compelling. I’ll keep tracing the faint outlines where history almost vanished.