CHAPTER NINETEEN

I n the heart of the Alzahran desert, Layna stood under a starry sky, the full moon casting its glow across the sands. She watched as a creeping shadow slowly engulfed the moon, turning the sky a deep, blood-red. The desert came alive around her, sands morphing into the shadowy forms of warriors and beasts. Encircled by this ominous spectacle, Layna’s heart pounded with fear, her escape blocked by the encroaching figures.

Amidst the chaos, a voice whispered, “Rise, Daughter! Rise!” The spectral warriors and beasts bowed down before her.

As the moon emerged from the shadow, bathed in a new, radiant light, Layna felt an immense power surge through her. Raising her arms, the desert sands obeyed her command, swirling violently around her.

The earth beneath her trembled, resonating with her newfound might, until a large chasm split open beneath her bare feet. Layna plummeted into the gaping divide, enveloped in an all-consuming darkness, her sight swallowed by the abyss.

The princess jolted awake with a strangled gasp, her heart hammering a painful rhythm against her ribcage. The dream had never extended that far before.

She rushed to the washroom, splashing cold water on her face, trying to erase the lingering terror. Layna stared into the mirror, droplets trickling down her pale face, her mind replaying her dream’s terrifying new development.

As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Layna returned to her room. A steely resolve settled over her. She needed answers, and she knew exactly where to start.

Layna found her father in his private office in the west wing. The spacious study, its walls lined with towering bookshelves, centered around a large mahogany desk cluttered with parchments and inkwells. Oil lamps ensconced within the walls cast a warm glow over the room.

A grand tapestry depicted a battle where mythical creatures and warriors clashed under a pitch-black sky. Emerald and sapphire dragons soared above, their scales shimmering in the moonlight, while below, the armored warriors fought their enemies with glinting swords.

Near the tapestry, an arched window offered a view of Alzahra City, sunlight casting shadows on the polished stone floor. A few potted plants, a personal touch from Soraya, added a bit of greenery to the otherwise austere room.

King Khahleel sat behind his desk, his shoulders slumped.

“Baba,” Layna called as she entered.

Khahleel looked up but did not seem surprised to see her. He sighed deeply and cradled his head in his hands.

“Layna,” he said softly, “I spoke with Zarian. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Layna nodded, her heart heavy. With slow steps, she came to sit across from him.

“Why did you keep this from me?” she asked quietly.

He looked away, shame coloring his features. “When the Medjai first came with their prophecy, I couldn’t bring myself to accept it. Even after they showed me the ancient texts, I thought they were just religious fanatics.” He took a breath, steeling himself. “I remember hearing you and Soraya giggling behind the tapestry. My mischievous, carefree girls. The thought of you shouldering such an immense burden was unthinkable.”

Layna’s eyes widened, and a faint smile touched her lips. “You knew we were there?”

Her father’s eyes softened. “Yes, I always knew. You two were never as sneaky as you thought. Hearing your laughter, so full of innocence and joy, made it even harder to accept that one day you would face such a heavy destiny.”

“But then your nightmares began, and I knew the prophecy must be true. I tried to prepare you, to strengthen you, but a part of me still hoped it was just a tale.” Khahleel paused and met Layna’s eyes. “That hope shattered when the Medjai returned months ago, saying the time was imminent. They promised to send someone to protect you. I agreed, believing it was the best path forward.”

“And they sent Zarian,” she said flatly.

“Yes, they sent Zarian,” Khahleel repeated, observing her closely. “He is one of their best. And their prince. I trust him. He has been honorable thus far.”

Layna remained silent, conflicting emotions fighting for dominance in her eyes. The truth of Zarian’s betrayal lingered on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice the words.

“Thank you, Baba,” she finally said quietly. Rising to her feet, she left the office, resolved in her quest to uncover more answers.

Behind her, Khahleel buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sorrow.

Next, she sought out her mother. She found Queen Hadiyah in the palace gardens. When Hadiyah saw her daughter, she pulled her into a comforting embrace. Layna allowed herself a moment of vulnerability and sobbed quietly, tears soaking the sleeve of her mother’s gown.

“You were born for greatness, my child,” Hadiyah whispered. “Whatever destiny awaits, know that I am here.”

Hadiyah led her to a bench. Layna rested her head in her mother’s lap while Hadiyah gently stroked her hair.

“When your father first told me of the prophecy, I wanted to deny it, to shield you from such a fate. But deep down, I knew it was true.”

She paused, her gaze distant as she recalled a memory. “It was a summer night, much like this one. I was watching you play in the gardens after dusk. There was torchlight, of course, but it was quite dark. The shadows were long, and it is easy for a child’s imagination to run wild. A stray dog wandered into the gardens. It must have seemed monstrous to your young eyes.”

“You were terrified, Layna. Before I could comfort you, you took off running, your little feet barely touching the ground. The dog ran after you, and I quickly followed. But then, you reached a moonlit clearing, just over there.” Hadiyah pointed at a nearby spot, lost in her memory. “Your transformation was instantaneous. Under the light of the moon, your fear evaporated. You stopped running and faced the animal. There was no panic in your eyes, only calm resolve. You stood your ground, and the dog stopped and eventually wandered away.”

Hadiyah’s eyes met Layna’s again, her expression one of awe. “It was as if the moon’s light had given you courage far beyond your tender years. I knew then that you were special, destined for greatness beyond even a queen’s reign.”

“Layna, I have witnessed your growth, your resilience, and your spirit. You will be remarkable, my daughter. You are remarkable.”

Layna listened, her mother’s words sinking in. “Thank you, Mama,” she said softly, kissing her cheek. “Your faith gives me strength.”

Her next destination was clear in her mind, the final piece in her quest for answers. With a deep breath, Layna stood and left the palace gardens.

Her steps were purposeful as Layna sought out Lord Ebrahim. She found him in his office. Without preamble, she scraped back a chair and faced the man she considered her second father.

“Lord Ebrahim, tell me about the Nahrysba Oasis. How did the Medjai come to live there?” she demanded.

The adviser fixed his gaze on the princess for what seemed like minutes.

“Certainly, Layna,” he finally replied, his eyes sharp behind his spectacles. “The Nahrysba Oasis has a rich history, steeped in lore. Legends tell of a wandering tribe, lost and desperate, led to a sacred spring by a divine sign.”

“As the tribe flourished, they became guardians of the Oasis. Over generations, this guardianship transformed into a sacred duty. The community that emerged was deeply connected to both the land and the energies that pulsed beneath it. The springs of Nahrysba are said to be blessed, abundant with unusually pure and healing water—a manifestation of this sacred connection.”

“As the community grew, they became known for their wisdom and strength. They were fierce protectors of their land. From these early inhabitants arose the Medjai, a noble order of warriors. The early generation of the Medjai recorded their knowledge in scrolls that were passed down through generations.”

The senior adviser paused and gave Layna a knowing look. “Based on your questions tonight, I suspect you have finally found the texts about the prophecy.” The princess confirmed his assumption with a small nod.

Layna gathered her thoughts. “In the texts we found, there was mention of an eclipse. But nothing detailed what exactly will happen. Do you know?”

Ebrahim sighed deeply. “The truth is, we do not know. The prophecy speaks in metaphors, leaving much to interpretation. Unfortunately, the specifics elude us still.” His expression softened. “I understand how frustrating this must be for you, especially now, when clarity seems most crucial. But as for what will happen during the eclipse, we are all, in a sense, in the dark.”

Layna was quiet for several heartbeats, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“You should have told me,” she finally said.

“I am so sorry, Layna,” he whispered, eyes filled with regret. “I wanted to, I truly did. I mentioned it to your father several times, but in the end, I heeded his command.”

Layna sighed and placed her hand over his. “Thank you.” She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a beat. Her heart battled against her mind. She opened her eyes and hesitantly asked, “I…I also wanted to know more about the Oasis’s current resources.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “Would an alliance with the Nahrysba Oasis benefit Alzahra?”

Ebrahim looked at her knowingly, a sad smile curling his lips.

“The Oasis is already allied with Alzahra through the Medjai. King Tahriq would gladly provide us with whatever aid he could. A formal alliance would not bring additional military or economic power to Alzahra.”

Layna’s gaze dropped to her lap.

“But, Princess,” he added gently, “a formal alliance would not harm Alzahra’s position either.”

Layna met his gaze, but before she could respond, the door burst open. A junior adviser rushed into the room.

“My Lord, Your Majesty,” he exclaimed, his voice strained with panic, “there is urgent news—Zephyria has…there has been an incident!”

Lord Ebrahim and Layna stood quickly.

“Gather the council immediately,” Ebrahim commanded.

In the council chamber, a heavy silence hung in the air, each member bracing for news that could change the course of Alzahra’s history.

“We have been attacked.” Lord Varin’s voice angrily resonated through the chamber. “A covert force from Zephyria infiltrated our eastern borders and committed an act of unspeakable brutality against General Idhaan, our top general at the eastern front.”

The blood drained from Layna’s face.

Lord Varin paused, allowing the council to absorb his words. “We received word this morning that Idhaan’s body was found in his tent…without his head.”

Shocked gasps echoed through the council chamber.

Lady Mirah, her face a mask of horror, interjected, “What evidence do we have of Zephyria’s involvement?”

Before Lord Varin could respond, the junior adviser, still visibly shaken, stepped forward.

“My Lady, we received a parcel from Zephyria. Addressed to Princess Layna.” He swallowed hard, struggling to maintain his composure. “Inside was General Idhaan’s head. It was accompanied by a note, declaring it a ‘wedding gift’ for the princess.”

Another collective gasp rang out as a flurry of revulsion swept over the council. Layna’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. Her heart pounded wildly against her chest as she struggled to keep her tears at bay.

The grotesque message left the council in stunned silence.

Lord Varin, his face contorted with anger, slammed his fist onto the table. “This is a declaration of war! We have no choice. We cannot—we will not hold off any longer!”

Layna felt a cold shiver travel down her spine as the terror of Zephyria’s message embedded itself deep within her. The gruesome delivery of General Idhaan’s head, a man she respected and cared for, left her feeling nauseated.

King Khahleel’s expression was grim as he commanded, “Prepare our forces. The time for diplomacy has passed. Zephyria will answer for this heinous crime.”

“What about his family?” Layna asked quietly, turning to her father. Khahleel rested an affectionate hand on her head.

“I will see to it that they are cared for,” he promised. “His wife and daughters will want for nothing.”

The council members murmured their agreement. Lord Varin clenched his jaw tightly.

Zarian glanced at Layna with concern before settling his gaze on Lord Varin. “Were there signs of struggle in any other tent besides General Idhaan’s?”

“No,” Lord Varin said, eyes shifting from Khahleel to Zarian. “There were no other disturbances reported.”

“And this tent,” Zarian pressed, “did it have any distinctive markings? Anything indicating it belonged to the top general?”

Varin hesitated before responding. “Er, no. All our tents are identical. There was nothing to indicate its importance. Perhaps Zephyria’s assassins scouted the camp first and gathered intelligence. I’ll instruct the men to conduct nightly sweeps going forward.”

The room fell into silence as Zarian’s questions highlighted the peculiar precision of the attack.

Zarian turned to King Khahleel. “We must also fortify our defenses, especially here at the palace. If Zephyria’s operatives were bold enough to strike at a military general, they might target the royal family next.”

“As always, your advice is sound, Zarian. Ensure the palace defenses are strengthened. We cannot afford any vulnerabilities.”

Zarian nodded. “I will coordinate with the guards.”

Lord Varin’s eyes were hard as he spoke again. “We’ll plan the strike meticulously. Zephyria will learn that treachery comes with a high price.”

The king gave a solemn nod. “Proceed with caution, Lord Varin. We must act swiftly but wisely. Alzahra’s security is paramount.”