The City of Zar
The caravan moved toward the royal palace of The City of Zar. Princess Sophia sat inside a lavish carriage while her handmaiden fanned her gently. Pushing aside the corner of her emerald-green silk gown, Sophia gazed out at the broad streets of The City of Zar.
Street vendors shouted to attract buyers for their fresh, ripe fruits. In another corner, children chased each other, laughing and playing. But on the other side of the street, a dispute had broken out between several men. Sophia listened closely and quickly realized the reason for their quarrel—money. The greatest concern of the people across the entire Azharian kingdom.
Her handmaiden, trying to ease the tension, spoke with a hopeful tone:
Sophia turned her gaze to her handmaiden. With her usual arrogance and cutting tone, she snapped:
The handmaiden wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, then shouted an order. The driver immediately snapped his whip, urging the horses forward. The speed of the caravan increased, forcing pedestrians to scatter in fear. Moments later, they arrived at the grand stairs of palace.
Slaves rushed to open the carriage door, and with the utmost reverence, they lifted the princess onto their shoulders, carrying her through the palace gates. Only after placing her down did they retreat, never daring to turn their backs toward her.
Sophia adjusted her silk gown and brushed her flowing hair back over her shoulder. She ascended the grand central staircase, but before she could enter her chambers, her father’s voice called out to her. She turned, only to find herself enveloped in his warm embrace before she could utter a word.
King Nima, the mighty ruler of the Azharian Empire, was the undisputed master of this vast realm. A warrior king who had personally fought in over 190 battles, standing alongside his soldiers on the battlefield. The scars of war were etched across his body, and his enemies trembled at the mere mention of his name.
But this same great king transformed into the gentlest man on earth when it came to his children. It was impossible for them to ask for something and hear the word from his lips.
King Nima embraced his daughter tightly. After showering her with affectionate words, he inquired about her journey to the Crimson Realm. Ever since peace had been established between the king and the Shaikh, Sophia had traveled with a royal caravan to that distant land as an honored guest.
Sophia pulled away from her father’s embrace and replied:
The king chuckled at his daughter’s dramatic complaints, expressing his joy at her safe return. He then made his way to the royal council chamber, where he took his seat on the throne. Sophia, meanwhile, withdrew from her father’s bedchamber. But just before the doors closed, something caught her eye—something she had never noticed before.
On the king’s mahogany desk, a half-unrolled ancient map lay spread out. Red ink marked various locations, and strange names were written upon it—names like
A spark of curiosity ignited within her. Quietly, she approached the desk, trying to examine the map more closely. But before she could take a better look, the sound of her father’s approaching footsteps startled her. King Nima’s expression turned serious as he remarked,
Sophia quickly called for her handmaidens. As they prepared the royal bath, she removed her silk gown and slipped into the warm water. Her closest handmaiden, Rana, knelt beside her, washing her hair with fragrant oils. With a playful smile, Rana asked:
Princess Sophia smiled as she ran her fingers through her hair, responding:
Rana, who was washing the princess’s feet in the warm bathwater, let out another heartfelt laugh:
Sophia shot a haughty glance at Rana and replied:
Their conversation continued as Rana eagerly asked more questions about the Crimson Realm.
The Royal Court
In the grand hall of palace, King Nima sat upon his throne, with the senior commanders of the City of Zar standing before him. At his command, all other court officials were dismissed, leaving only the royal advisors to step forward. The circle grew tighter, and in a lower voice, the king began to speak:
"News has arrived from Seacity—King Bahram and the Fortress of the Sun have been dishonored. Their ships were lost, and they have suffered a great cost. If we do not find the culprit behind this violation soon, they will turn their accusations against us. If you have any proposals, speak now, for the situation is dire…"
Siamak The Wise, the king’s chief advisor, took a moment to think before responding:
"It has not even been a full month since your treaty with the Shaikh… He took an enormous amount of gold from us as tribute and promised to secure the entire gulf. My king, is it not wise to reconsider this deal? Everyone knows that a significant portion of the pirates in these waters are from the Crimson Realm. There is a real possibility that the Shaikh took our wealth and then turned against us, seizing even more of our assets!"
King Nima furrowed his brows, his expression darkening with anger. He replied in a harsh tone: "Silence! The Shaikh is now our ally and friend. We must not distrust him. Besides, my daughter returned safely just today. If the Shaikh intended any harm toward me or our kingdom, he could have—heaven forbid—harmed her. I am certain he is not responsible for this."
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The king turned his attention to his commanders and gave a firm order:
"Prepare an elite unit of our finest soldiers and set out for Seacity immediately. Ready several warships and follow the trade route of the Fortress of the Sun. The attack must have occurred along that path, and there is a high chance you will encounter the raiders again. Whoever brings me the severed head of their leader will be rewarded with their weight in gold."
The commanders saluted and quickly left the court to begin their mission. The king dismissed the other advisors and, together with Siamak the Wise, entered his private chamber. The room, located on the ground floor of the palace at the end of the last corridor, was secluded and far from the reach of others, perfect for the most secretive discussions. They sat around the table and began speaking in hushed tones. Siamak unfolded a map on the table—the same map that Sofia had seen earlier in her father's bedchamber.
Siamak the Wise reported.
The king asked with growing concern:
Siamak narrowed his eyes and replied:
The king sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair. He turned to Siamak and said:
Siamak stood up and, with a quieter tone, said:
Suddenly, an ear-piercing scream echoed from the palace courtyard. The king, Siamak the Wise, and several soldiers hurried to the yard. The courtiers had gathered in one corner, and a few of them were trying to calm a woman who was still shrieking. The king stepped forward and froze. The garden was lush and green, but there was one tree in the center of the crowd that stood out. A tree that had been perfectly normal just a short while ago, now with its trunk entirely blood-red. Every second, more of it was drying up, and its leaves were quickly falling off.
The woman, crying out before the courtiers, started chanting and speaking in incomprehensible phrases:
The once vibrant tree’s dried branches suddenly caught fire. The courtiers recoiled in fear, and the woman, in a frenzy, broke free from their grasp. She rushed toward the tree, chanting the same phrases, and before anyone could stop her, she was consumed by flames. Her screams rose louder, blending with her song, but then, suddenly, it stopped. The tree burned in an instant, and the flames extinguished just as quickly.
The courtiers stood in stunned silence, staring in horror. The woman, who had been a servant in the palace kitchen, was now a charred corpse, her limbs wrapped around the trunk of the tree. When several soldiers tried to detach the body, not the slightest movement occurred. It was as if the woman had become part of the tree.
No one could explain what had happened. minutes later, several woodcutters arrived to remove the tree and the body. The first woodcutter swung his axe, and as it struck the tree’s trunk, the axe split in two. The same happened to the second woodcutter, and every attempt to separate the body failed. Reluctantly, they brought sheets to cover the tree, hoping to try again the following day.
Private Chamber
The king, accompanied by his soldiers, returned to the palace. A strange headache had overcome him, and the shock of what had just occurred was still gripping his mind. King Nima had fought in many battles and had witnessed many horrifying scenes, far worse than seeing a burned body. But this… this was different. There was no logical explanation for the servant’s behavior.
King Nima returned to his private chamber and sat down in his heavy, luxurious chair. He closed his eyes, trying to push the woman’s screams and the strange flames out of his mind, but the images danced before him. He couldn’t understand what had happened. That woman, that tree, those flames… everything seemed unnatural.
He recalled how his grandfather, the late king, had often spoken about omens and warnings from the gods. Could this be a sign? A warning?
Suddenly, the door opened slowly, and Siamak the Wise entered the room. His face was pale, and his hands trembled slightly. He stepped closer and said:
The king opened his eyes and looked at him wearily.
Siamak took a deep breath and said: The king frowned and said, Siamak continued,
The king leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
Siamak nodded.
The king was silent for a moment before asking,
Siamak carefully replied, "My lord, we must reach out to other advisors and even the other rulers of the realm. If something big is approaching, only they can help us stand against it."
The king nodded in agreement.
Siamak bowed respectfully and left the room. The king remained alone, staring at the candle flames on the table. His mind was filled with unanswered questions. Was this truly a warning? Were they prepared? And most importantly, could he protect his family and his kingdom?
The king walked to the window and gazed upon the golden city. The night made it seem peaceful, but he knew that this peace might only be temporary. Something was coming—something dark and dangerous—and he had to be ready.
With the king’s departure to the inner chambers, his private quarters fell silent. Moments later, Princess Sophia, who had been hiding behind the window, slowly rose from her place. Her eyes were filled with confusion and turmoil, her hands trembling with an unexplainable rage. The words she had just heard had yet to fully settle in her mind.
Her father—the king she had always believed in, the man she had trusted with all her heart—had willingly given her away to the Sheikh. The relationship she had thought was formed in secrecy and emotion was nothing more than a calculated move in her father’s grand plan. A plan he believed was vital for the survival of Azarian lands.
But in the end, all it did was shatter the image of the great King Nima that had been ingrained in her mind for seventeen years. Sophia slowly sank into a chair, still dizzy from the weight of the truth. She struggled to comprehend the rest of the conversation between the king and Siamak.
Crimson Realm
South of the Azharian lands, beyond the great gulf, the Shaikh’s royal palace stood tall with its emerald walls and domed rooftops—an unmissable sight. But few knew of the dungeons hidden beneath the palace. Dungeons that whispered with secrets.
Both sides of the dim corridors were lined with dark cells, filled with prisoners writhing on the cold stone floors, their bodies broken by torture. The further one walked, the stronger the stench of blood became, creeping into the smallest corners of one’s being. And at the very end of this grim passage, the final cell came into view.
The Shaikh and his warlord arrived at this point, a burning torch in hand. Someone sat hunched in the corner of the cell. Slowly, the figure opened its glowing red eyes and staggered toward the iron bars. It raised its scratched, cloven hands to shield its gaze from the torch’s harsh light.
With a commanding voice, the Shaikh spoke.
The creature in the cell—Mared, a djinn—grinned, revealing jagged, uneven teeth. he rasped.
Mared’s red eyes narrowed.
The Shaikh muttered under his breath and turned to leave.
Mared’s voice echoed through the dungeon.
The Shaikh quickened his pace, leaving the dungeon behind as fast as he could.
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