“Why should I help you, Thmyl?” she asked, picking dust from her sleeve. “You’re a mjana . You collect dead facts.”
Thmyl smiled. “We build the third cycle. Slowly. This time, we won’t forget.” If you meant something else by "thmyl lbt 7 Wonders II mjana," please clarify the exact spelling or language (e.g., Arabic transliteration, code, game title), and I’ll rewrite the story accordingly.
The Tablet screamed. Without their names, it had no anchor to rewrite their pasts. It shattered into harmless obsidian dust.