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CHAPTER EIGHT

ZAHRA

Z ahra had been dragged to her knees through the streets of Eldoria. Her bruised body moved against its will, pulled by the brutal grip of the guards. Insults rained down from the crowd like blades, accompanied by stones and trash hurled in her direction. She had cried and begged, but her tears had long since dried. Her knees bled, her clothes were in tatters, and yet all she could think about was her parents and her sisters. After her death, they would no longer receive the extra rations...

The dark stairs of Redfort Keep echoed with the heavy thuds of boots as she was hauled upward. The walls dripped with dampness and stank of decay, but Zahra no longer had the strength to feel afraid. Commander Rodérick leaned into her face and snarled, "Take a good look, you filthy thief! Look where you'll spend your final days!"

Her feet slipped on the stone steps, and she fell, her nails breaking as she clawed at the rough ground for support. Rodérick didn’t slow. With one hand, he grabbed her by the hair, yanking her upright. He tore the pin from her hair—a peacock-shaped ornament. Holding it up, he glared at her with burning disdain. "So, you're one of the Peacock Guild? A pirate. A liar. A traitor!"

Zahra shook her head desperately. "Please... it’s not true... I’m not a thief! I’m not a pirate!"

Rodérick silenced her with a sharp slap, sending her sprawling to the side.

"Your execution will be moved up, cursed pirate. You’ll serve as an example."

They threw her into a dark cell, and she collapsed onto her knees. Her fingers clenched the cold earth beneath her, her body trembling with exhaustion. Behind her, the guards slammed the door shut, and Rodérick’s footsteps faded into the dark corridors.

Zahra slowly raised her eyes. A filthy old woman was hunched in one corner, humming a strange tune, her empty gaze lost in obvious madness. Across the cell, leaning against the wall, was a young man. His jet-black hair fell over his shoulders, and his expression was serene, almost intriguing. Zahra didn’t move at first, merely watching. Her stomach growled loudly, hunger gnawing at her after her tears.

A guard opened a small hatch in the door and tossed in some barely recognizable chicken remnants. The old woman pounced on them like a wild animal, devouring her portion with terrifying voracity, while the young man calmly picked up his share and set it on his knees.

Zahra stared at the scene, her stomach twisting with hunger. "And me?" she asked. But the guard ignored her, slamming the hatch shut.

Tears welled in her eyes again, but before she could succumb to despair, the young man turned toward her. His face was calm, almost soothing, and his narrow, dark eyes met hers with surprising sincerity.

"Here. Eat," he said, holding out part of his ration. "We can share."

Zahra stared at him, startled by the unexpected kindness. She took the piece and brought it to her mouth. "Thank you..." she murmured, her voice breaking.

He nodded silently before glancing at the old woman out of the corner of his eye.

"And don’t get too close to her. She bites."

Zahra’s eyes widened briefly before she sat down near him, her back against the wall. She chewed slowly, trying to ignore the bland taste of the food. She noticed the boy had given her a larger portion than his own, and a pang of guilt swept through her.

"I’m Zahra," she finally said. "And you?"

"Lan," he replied simply.

A sharp cry from the old woman startled her. The woman had begun to sing loudly, a jarring melody that echoed through the cell. Zahra instinctively moved closer to Lan, seeking some semblance of safety. "What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to ease the tension.

Lan shrugged slightly. "I treated criminals. In the wrong city, at the wrong time. They turned me in to avoid paying me."

Zahra nodded. "This city is cursed..."

Lan turned to her. "And you? Why are you here?"

She hesitated. The words weighed heavily in her throat. What could she say? That she was about to die for a crime she hadn’t committed? "Wrong place, wrong time," she whispered.

Lan noticed her bloodied hand and tore a piece of fabric from his own tunic. He fashioned it into a makeshift bandage and wrapped it tightly around her palm. "If I had my supplies, I’d treat it properly," he said with a faint, almost sad smile.

Zahra lowered her eyes to her bandaged hand. Someone had cared for her. It had been so long since anyone had shown her such kindness.

"Why are you being nice to me?" she murmured, frowning slightly.

Lan met her gaze, his expression as peaceful as ever. "Because it’s good to finally not be the only sane one in this place. Sometimes sharing despair makes it easier to bear," he replied calmly, nodding toward the old woman, who was clearly lost in her own madness.

Zahra felt a warmth rise within her, a comfort she hadn’t known in a long time. No one had ever been kind to her in this city, and she had never had friends in Eldoria. At least, she thought, she had finally found a friend... even if it was only a short time before her death.

She closed her eyes, pulling her knees to her chest, and let herself drift into a light sleep, lulled by the eerie song of the old woman and the soothing silence of Lan.