CHAPTER SIXTEEN

L ate at night, while the palace slept, Princesses Layna and Soraya crept down dimly lit corridors to the palace library. The high ceiling loomed ominously in the darkness, shadows dancing in the moonlight streaming through the large windows. The familiar, musty scent of old books permeated the air.

With only a lantern to light their way, they navigated through the towering shelves, eyes scanning for any clue about the Medjai or the prophecy.

As they ventured further, past shelves containing histories of kingdoms and volumes of ancient poetry, into the seldom-visited depths of the library, Soraya noticed a peculiar outline on the floor near the back wall, concealed beneath a thick rug. Exchanging a knowing glance, the sisters rolled the rug aside, uncovering a trapdoor.

Together, they hefted the heavy door, its hinges protesting loudly in the stillness of the library. A narrow staircase spiraled downward, beckoning them into the shadows.

Hand in hand, the princesses descended into the darkness.

At the bottom was a large hidden room, a sanctum of forgotten knowledge. Rows upon rows of dusty books and scrolls lay in wait, their secrets untouched. The sisters pushed forward, determined to find answers.

As they explored the shelves, Layna’s eyes were drawn to a section where a symbol similar to Zarian’s tattoo was inscribed on several aged spines.

“Soraya!” she called, her voice echoing in the chamber. “Come, look at these!”

There were manuscripts, bound in leather and adorned with intricate symbols, along with several old, yellowing scrolls.

They sat at a nearby table and poured over the writings. Layna felt the pieces of her past slotting into place—the overheard conversation from her childhood, whispers of a prophecy, and now, her current predicament with Zarian.

One scroll contained a detailed sketch of what appeared to be an orb, its surface shimmering with white filigree. An ominous sensation washed over Layna as she examined it, a chill running down her spine and a sense of foreboding that clung to her heart like a shadow. Though it was warm in the hidden chamber, her skin erupted in goosebumps. With shaking fingers, she rolled up the scroll and placed it aside.

Another text, frayed at the edges, caught her attention. She carefully unfurled it, revealing a script that seemed to dance in the lantern light. The text was written in an ancient dialect, but Layna, well-versed in the old tongues, began to read aloud:

“When darkness seeks to engulf the lands,

The Daughter will rise amidst the sands.

With heart, pure, and courage blinding bright,

She shall wield the ancient, moonlit light.

In her wake, attacking shadows will flee,

Only, then, will the realm be safe and free.

Beneath the night of shadow’s embrace,

The eclipse will reveal her true face.

In this hour, the heart’s choice shall bear its weight,

Deciding the course of future and fate.

In her hands, the power to mend or maul,

Her will must be steady, lest darkness enthrall.

For if the Daughter’s control slips from hand,

She will wreak havoc across the sands.

Should she be blinded by her bright light,

Daughter, fear the earthly moon’s hidden might.”

As Layna recited the ancient words of the prophecy, they seemed to wrap around her like a cloak woven from the threads of time itself.

The words burrowed their way into her very soul.

Soraya gazed thoughtfully at the worn script. She turned to Layna, her sister’s pale face illuminated by the soft light.

“It’s strange,” Soraya mused, her voice a gentle murmur in the quiet chamber. “This was written long before our time, but it’s about you .” The younger princess paused. “Your nightmares…it all makes sense now.”

Layna nodded silently, her eyes still fixed on the faded parchment.

Soraya continued, “You’ve always faced your responsibilities with such grace and strength. But this prophecy,” she paused, searching for the right words, “it’s like a path set out for you, one that’s been waiting since the stars first aligned.” She placed a reassuring hand on Layna’s shoulder. “I’ve seen you grow, confront challenges, and make difficult choices for Alzahra. But no matter what the prophecy holds or what destiny demands, you are not alone.”

Layna covered her sister’s hand with her own, her mind abuzz with the implications. This wasn’t just a tale from the past; it was a living, breathing part of her reality.

But was she really the Daughter of the Moon? What did the prophecy mean? What would happen to her during the eclipse?

As the sisters continued to read, they found references to the Medjai, described as guardians of balance and protectors of sacred knowledge. Soraya peered over her sister’s shoulder.

“Zarian must know more about this. You should talk to him.”

Layna considered her sister’s words. Despite her warring emotions—anger, mistrust, and betrayal—she knew that she needed to unravel the tangled threads of the prophecy.

And for that, Zarian was the key.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Layna wrapped her sister in a tight embrace before ascending the stairs and leaving the library.

Determined, she navigated the silent, shadowed hallways. Despite the late hour, Layna instinctively knew the prince would still be awake—their last conversation must haunt him the way it did her.

The council chambers were deserted. She received no response when she knocked on the door to his guest quarters, and the training grounds were empty.

Layna hurried along the palace corridors, heading to the rooftop terrace where he sometimes meditated. Her heart pounded with a mix of nerves and resolve. She reached the narrow, spiraling staircase, her footsteps echoing on the ancient stone as she climbed.

Pushing open the heavy door, she emerged onto the large terrace. The full moon cast its silvery light across the space, highlighting two stately pillars that stood like guardians. Beyond them, the city unfolded—a mosaic of rooftops and streets that faded into the vast desert stretching to the horizon.

At the terrace’s edge, near one of the pillars, Zarian stood alone, his silhouette stark against the starlit sky. He was staring at the moon, lost in thought. He turned as she approached, his eyes widening in surprise.

The tension between them was thick, the air charged with unspoken words. Layna took a deep breath and stepped closer.

“Prince Zarian,” she began, eyes fixed just above his shoulder. “I owe you an apology. I reacted harshly and with anger. A princess must always be composed, and I was not.” Her words were stilted, coated in a cutting formality.

“Layna, I’m deeply sorry you learned about the prophecy that way. I waited too long to tell you.” He tried to meet her gaze, willing her to see the truth in his eyes, but Layna refused to look at him. She walked past and slowly sat on the ground.

As she looked up at the moon, Zarian came to sit beside her.

Layna took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Soraya and I found texts about the prophecy and the Medjai. Tell me why you’re here and my role in all of this,” she pleaded, hating the vulnerability in her voice. “Just tell me the truth.”

Zarian looked into her eyes, his own swirling with regret, affection, and perhaps, a sliver of hope.

In a quiet whisper, he said, “The prophecy warns of an era marked by turmoil—a time when the very fabric of our kingdoms will be tested. The Daughter of the Moon is the key.”

Layna felt a chill run down her spine. “And you’re saying that… I am this Daughter? How do you know for sure?”

“Your birth coincided with a rare celestial alignment, deeply connected to the lunar cycle. This event was prophesized to mark the arrival of the Daughter of the Moon. It happens only once in centuries.”

Layna shook her head. “That could just be a coincidence.”

Zarian leaned closer. “Tell me, Layna, do you not feel an intrinsic connection to the moon? Has it not been a source of peace and strength for you? Does it not call to you through your dreams?”

Layna absorbed his words in disbelief, realization washing over her in a frigid wave.

She had never told him about her nightmares.

“The eclipse,” she said. “When is it supposed to occur? What will happen to me?”

Zarian sighed and shook his head. “The elders believe it will occur soon. But the texts don’t specify exactly what will happen, only that it’s the final event in the prophecy’s fulfillment. They think you’ll receive powers of some kind, but I don’t know for sure.”

Layna felt a haunting chill settle into her bones. She gazed at the moon, steadfast in the sky, its pale light casting a glow over them.

After a moment of silence, Layna turned back to Zarian. “We found a sketch, some type of orb. I felt…strange when I saw it. Do you know about it?”

A flicker of recognition crossed Zarian’s features. “Yes. The Orb of Al’Qamzain. Medjai legends say it emerged from the sacred springs of the Oasis under the darkness of an eclipse, imbued with powers from the moon itself. It was hidden by the first generation of Medjai to protect it from those who would misuse its power.”

Zarian hesitated before adding, “Our intelligence suggests someone is trying to locate the orb. More alarmingly, it might already be in the wrong hands.” He drew in a slow, deliberate breath. “The orb has significant power over the Daughter of the Moon. Whoever possesses it likely has ill intentions toward you.”

Layna’s expression clouded with worry, the crease between her brows deepening. “Does my father know about the prophecy?” she finally asked.

“Yes,” Zarian nodded. “Years ago, an envoy from the Medjai came to Alzahra. He shared our belief that you fit the criteria.” He paused, closing his eyes and tightly pinching the bridge of his nose. “I only learned of this months ago, before I was tasked with coming here. The elders had kept your identity a closely guarded secret before then.”

Layna’s eyes widened, a memory flickering to life. “That’s what Soraya and I overheard about the Medjai and a prophecy when we were children. We were eavesdropping from behind a tapestry in Baba’s office.”

“Your father has known of your destiny for years,” Zarian explained. “I imagine it’s why he’s insisted on rigorous training. He wanted you to be prepared, even if the full scope of the prophecy was unclear.”

Layna absorbed this new piece of her history. Her father had been preparing her for this role her entire life, without her ever realizing the true reason.

Another question occurred to her. “Why are there ancient Medjai texts here in Alzahra? Shouldn’t they be safeguarded in the Oasis?”

“The first generation of Medjai were guardians not only of the Oasis, but of sacred knowledge as well,” he replied, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the cool terrace floor. “They believed it was too risky to keep all their ancient texts and artifacts in one place. The danger of such treasures being discovered and misused was too great. So, they spread the artifacts and texts about prophecies across the realm. They aren’t just within Alzahra, but hidden in many different locations.”

“ Prophecies ?” Layna asked incredulously. “There’s more than one?”

Zarian forced a strained smile and said, “Yes, there are several prophecies—and supposedly a handsome Medjai guarding each one.” Layna remained stone-faced, and his smile slowly faded. He sighed, glancing away. “Truthfully, even I don’t know how many prophecies there are. The Medjai cherish their secrets, even from their own.”

“And what is your role in all of this? Are you even a prince?” she questioned, tightly hugging her knees to her chest.

Zarian straightened. “Yes. My lineage as a prince and my role as a Medjai are deeply intertwined. My father is also a Medjai. He instilled in me the understanding that our royal duty extends beyond the throne—it’s a commitment to the balance.”

Layna was silent, processing the new information Zarian had revealed.

Shifting his eyes to his lap, Zarian took a deep, steadying breath. His face contorted, as if it pained him to utter his next words.

“Layna, there’s one thing your father doesn’t know. The elders fear the unknown. We don’t know what will happen during the eclipse, but if you threaten the balance in any way…I’m supposed to stop you. By any means necessary.”

Layna gasped sharply, her eyes widening as his confession stole the breath from her lungs. The blood drained from her face, and she recoiled from him as if he had slapped her, her body instinctively putting distance between them.

“But know this,” he continued quickly, “I would never harm you. No matter what happens. No matter what power you wield. No matter how you wield it. My feelings for you are real and true.”

The princess studied him warily. “And what exactly is it that you feel for me?”

Zarian held her gaze, intense and unyielding. “Every moment with you, Layna, I have to remind myself to breathe,” he confessed, his heart in his words. “You are the answer to a prayer I must have made in my dreams. I’ve tried to suppress how I felt for months, but at the royal ball…watching you with the other princes, the jealousy that ran rampant through me made it impossible to keep lying to myself. I wanted you and only you. I still do.”

He continued, his voice hoarse, “Before I met you, I was content with my path. Not happy, but content. I’ve questioned everything since meeting you.” He took a shaky breath, hazel eyes glistening in the moonlight, willing her to see the sincerity in his heart. “Layna, you are the most incredible person I’ve ever met. It torments me night and day that I wounded you so deeply. Please, give me a chance to earn back your trust.”

Layna was silent, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She blinked, and one escaped, tracing a wet path down her cheek. Zarian’s hand wavered, as if he wanted to reach out and wipe it away, but he clenched it into a fist and kept it at his side.

“I…I need time to understand all this. To understand my role, the prophecy, and…what you and I are to each other.”

Zarian nodded. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”