The March to Aurik

  Across the valley, Jabir and Sylvance raced toward the village.

  Jabir cursed. "I didn't expect the boy to escape..."

  Sylvance spoke with a chill in his voice. "He's one of a kind. He doesn’t need rescuing.

  Jabir shook his head. "He's just a kid. I found him wandering in the desert, pleading for help, right before we came into the valley..."

  Sylvance nodded. "We're close."

  ---

  They reached the village.

  "Men—prepare yourselves! We move tonight!"

  Jawaher rushed forward. "Jabir... you're back. Where's the boy?"

  "He escaped. Taken by someone heading to Aurik. He's being sold into slavery."

  Jawaher frowned. "Why rush? He can handle himself. Why save him?"

  Jabir's voice rose. "Because he saved me, Jawaher. Without him, none of you would be alive."

  The men packed quickly.

  Jawaher crossed her arms. "He's brought nothing but trouble. We could leave him."

  Jabir's voice was firm. "We'll save him."

  Sylvance stepped forward. "I hope my people treated you well during your stay."

  Jabir bowed. "You saved me. You saved my men. I'll never forget it."

  Sylvance smiled. "You helped my people too. We're even."

  Jawaher interrupted. "Thank you, Sylvance. But we're in a hurry."

  Jabir nodded. "I'll see you again, Sylvance. Someday."

  "Safe travels," she said.

  Night fell.

  ---

  Jabir's caravan moved toward Aurik.

  Jawaher muttered, "I don't know what's gotten into you, Jabir..."

  Jabir replied, "This discussion is over. We're saving him."

  Jawaher sighed. "Unfortunately... we are."

  Suddenly, Jabir stumbled.

  "My body... it hurts..."

  He collapsed.

  "Jabir!" Jawaher cried.

  "Is it that crazy forest girl? Did you forget to eat? What happened?"

  Jabir gasped. "Jawaher... send someone... get help from the village... It's... Lajm's snake..."

  His eyes closed.

  The Race Against Death

  Ledra steadied her breath as she knelt beside Fuad, whose body was growing colder by the minute.

  "Fuad, stay here. I'll give you an herb-just swallow it."

  Fuad groaned. "Why...?"

  "You really have the nerve to ask? Huh... It’ll slow the bleeding while I gather the ingredients. Just trust me."

  "But I won't let you go alone..."

  "There's no time for noble gestures. Lie down and be quiet foolish assassin."

  Just then, the boy stirred, his eyes fluttering open.

  Ledra turned. "Ah, you're awake. Good. Can you do something about this poor man? At this rate, he'll die-and it'll be your fault."

  Ledra gazing at the boy

  The boy blinked. "I don't understand..."

  "You're terrible at remembering things, aren't you? No matter. You're coming with me to gather the ingredients."

  The boy sat up, confused. "Where's Jabir? Where am I? I need to get to Aurik..."

  Ledra snapped, "Forget Aurik for now. Help the man who saved you."

  The boy looked at Fuad, his expression darkening.

  "He tried to kill me..."

  "I don't care what happened. He's dying because of you."

  The boy hesitated. "Fine. I'll help. But only if you tell me how to reach Aurik."

  "Ask Fuad-once we save him. He owes you."

  The boy nodded, energized. "Let's go."

  Ledra pointed toward the horizon. "We need to reach the cave at the base of that sand-covered mountain. There should be bats there."

  They set off, leaving Fuad behind, his breath shallow and his skin pale.

  The Arrival of the Assassins

  Five Assassins arrived at the ancient library.

  One of them sneered. "I can't believe we came all this way to find Fuad bleeding out. What a joke."

  They laughed cruelly.

  One kicked Fuad's head and stripped him of his sword and gear.

  "You won't need these anymore. Go meet the blue djinn in the afterlife."

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  As they laughed cruelly.

  Fayez glanced at him again, wanting to help, when one of them shouted from behind, "Fayez! Let's go!"

  Fayez knelt, draping clothes over Fuad’s neck to stop the bleeding. “Hey, you’re good. I trust you can do this. The commander is testing you, Fuad—you can make it. Don’t you dare think we’ve given up on you! You’re like my brother.

  One of the assassins sighed, "You're always so kind, Fayez!"

  ”They left, returning to Jamih with their report.

  ---

  Meanwhile Inside the Assassins' Stronghold...

  Jamih sat hunched at the edge of a worn wooden table, his gaze fixed on the flickering lantern that hung from the cracked stone ceiling. The flame danced, casting shadows across his weathered face-lines carved by years of silence, betrayal, and desert wind.

  He muttered to himself, voice low and bitter.

  "So you've gone, then...

  Taken the prize you think will change your life, you foolish boy..."

  His hand trembled slightly as he raised the glass to his lips. The wine was bitter, aged, and nearly gone. He drank anyway.

  "Your father was a good man," he whispered.

  "He left you in my care. I trained you. I raised you with these hands..."

  He looked down at his palms-scarred, cracked, calloused. Hands that had once held blades, now holding nothing but memory.

  Outside, the wind howled through the canyon walls, brushing against the hideout's stone exterior like a whisper from the past.

  "But there are signs," Jamih continued, eyes narrowing.

  "Signs I've seen in the Valley of Wonders.

  They tell me I must cast you out...

  Even if it means breaking the promise I made to your father."

  He drained the glass, though it was empty. The ritual mattered more than the wine.

  Then, laughter erupted from him-raw, loud, unrestrained.

  "You've grown bold, haven't you?

  Daring to challenge me, you insolent whelp! Ha! Ha ha ha!"

  He slammed the glass down, the echo swallowed by the thick stone walls.

  "It's time you flew.

  The eagle must learn to soar and leave the nest behind.

  For the one who shelters it too long...

  Grows weaker by the day...

  Until he fades."

  Jamih slumped forward, his head resting on the table. The lantern above flickered once, then steadied.

  Outside, beneath the silva sky-blue and violet, scattered with stars like ancient runes-a figure stood motionless at the edge of the canyon.

  Wrapped in a long, ash-colored cloak, the stranger watched the hideout from a distance. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his posture was alert, calculating. One hand rested on the hilt of a curved blade. The other held a small, metallic object-round, engraved, pulsing faintly with light.

  He didn't move.

  He didn't speak.

  But he was listening.

  The wind shifted, carrying the scent of wine, dust, and something older-something buried.

  Inside, Jamih stirred in his sleep. His fingers twitched. A name escaped his lips, barely audible.

  "Fuad..."

  The stranger tilted his head.

  Then, slowly, he began to walk toward the stronghold.

  The Healing of Jabir

  Back at the Luminous Tree Village, Jawaher burst into the courtyard.

  "Sylvance!"

  Sylvance turned. "What's wrong? Why are you back?"

  "Did you poison him?!"

  Sylvance's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

  "If you wanted coins, you could've just asked! Why go and poison him like this?!"

  Sylvance stepped forward, furious. "What makes you think I'd do that? After everything I've done for you?"

  Jawaher paused, remembering the battle.

  "I didn't mean it like that... Jabir collapsed. He showed signs of venom..."

  Sylvance shook her head. "I can't believe you're his second-in-command. Instead of asking for help, you accuse me?"

  Jawaher lowered her gaze. "Please... help us."

  Sylvance nodded. "Of course."

  She summoned the village healers.

  After examining Jabir, they confirmed: snake venom. Likely from Lajm's serpent.

  "With a dose of honey," one healer said, "he'll wake in three hours. But he must follow the treatment strictly, or the venom will return."

  Sylvance nodded. "Thank you."

  Jawaher bowed. "He'll follow it. I promise. Thank you for saving him."

  Sylvance smiled. "We're just returning the favor. These healers were freed when we stormed the Assassins' lair. It's only fair."

  The kids of the village playing with camels and annoying the man's of caravans

  While Jawaher is looking at them smiling

  Well...I guess those kids want to play with us for one more time.

  ---

  The five assassins returned to the hideout.

  Knocking the door as they enter seeing Jamih

  "Commander, we have good news. We found Fuad in an ancient building. He's dying. Here's his sword and gear."

  Jamih's eyes narrowed. "And the boy?"

  "He attacked Fuad and escaped."

  Jamih nodded. "I have another task for you."

  He handed them a small pouch.

  One of the men blinked. "What? You want us to give this to Fuad?"

  Jamih's gaze turned sharp. "Is there a problem?"

  Silence fell.

  "No, Commander. We'll deliver it."

  Jamih stood up and said, "Tariq, Qaws, Rami, Fayez, Othman, you will go deliver this pouch."

  Qaws: Why do we all have to go? Can't I just go alone and come back?

  Jamih: I feel like something’s off, so you should be careful.

  "And return his sword."

  The men departed once more—heading back to the ancient library.

  The Assassins' Stronghold — Under the Night Sky of Silva

  As the five assassins getting far away .

  The stranger walked steadily toward the stronghold.

  No hesitation. No sound.

  He unsheathed his blade—a jagged, cruel weapon forged for one purpose—and in a single, fluid motion, he severed the head of the first assassin in his path.

  Blood sprayed across the sand.

  A scream tore through the silence.

  "We're under attack!"

  Inside, Jamih stirred. He didn't flinch. He didn't panic.

  He rose from his chair, walked calmly to the iron chest beneath the stone archway, and opened it. Inside lay his personal weapon—ancient, heavy, and humming with dormant power.

  He gripped it tightly and moved toward the sound.

  Outside, the stranger carved through the assassins one by one. No hesitation. No resistance. No mercy.

  Jamih's voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

  "Stand down! Let him come!"

  He stepped into the courtyard and saw them—four of his men, butchered beyond recognition.

  He drew his blade.

  His eyes locked onto the intruder.

  "Who are you?" he growled, fury rising behind his voice.

  The stranger tilted his head, amused.

  "Fascinating... After all this, I find that the people of this pitiful planet have found a way to survive. How... pathetic."

  Jamih pointed his sword.

  "What do you want? Who sent you? Who are you?"

  The stranger glanced at his own blade, then back at Jamih.

  "You... you're different. I see an aura around you. Strong. Ancient.

  I'll enjoy killing you."

  Jamih's voice cracked with rage.

  "You murdered four of my men. You insulted the land I live on.

  And now you want me dead?"

  The stranger lunged—fast, precise, deadly.

  Jamih blocked the strike, sliding backward across the sand.

  One assassin whispered in disbelief.

  "He pushed Jamih back..."

  Another hissed.

  "Shut up, fool."

  Jamih steadied himself, breathing hard.

  "Yes, I'm old. But that doesn't mean I'm weak!"

  He struck with force—his blade crashing into the stranger's, sending a shockwave through the sand. The ground trembled. Sparks flew.

  The stranger staggered back, eyes wide.

  "Interesting... You're not like the others," he said, gesturing to the corpses.

  Jamih charged.

  "Don't you dare insult my men, you wretch!"

  Their blades collided again—fast, brutal, relentless. Every swing was a gamble. Every block, a heartbeat away from death. Sparks lit the stronghold like fireflies in a storm.

  Then—the stranger landed a strike.

  A shallow cut across Jamih's cheek.

  Blood trickled down.

  The assassins watched in stunned silence. None dared intervene. They knew: stepping in would only get them killed.

  The stranger chuckled softly.

  "Ha... I'm wearing you down. Is that all you've got?"

  Jamih raised his sword. The embedded gemstones began to glow.

  He slashed the air sideways—unleashing a crimson wave of energy that surged toward the stranger.

  The stranger dodged, eyes gleaming.

  "Ho ho... That's dangerous."

  He lunged again—this time slicing Jamih's leg, shallow but sharp.

  "Look at you... The mighty leader of assassins, about to be assassinated.

  Isn't that poetic?"

  Jamih gritted his teeth, rising.

  The stranger looked outside the hideout as lightning strike strongly from the skies somewhere.

  As Jamih talking slowly and confidently filled with rage.

  Did you like the view of our planet? In a silly tone.

  As he looking to the stranger

  "I still don't know who you are... or what you want.

  But I do know this—

  You need to die."

  He roared, charging forward.

  "SILA!"

  His blade responded—its aura flaring, its edge glowing red-hot. The air around him pulsed with power.

  He struck.

  The stranger blocked—but Jamih pressed harder, screaming with fury. The force of the blow sent the stranger flying—launched out of the stronghold, crashing into the dunes beyond.

  Jamih ran toward the impact site.

  "Where is he?" he muttered, breath ragged.

  He looked left. Right.

  Nothing.

  The sand was disturbed. But the stranger was gone.

  Jamih lowered his sword, sliding it back into its sheath.

  He spoke to himself.

  "So that's how it is...

  He was strong. Skilled. Too skilled."

  He turned to his men.

  "Everyone—stay sharp. Eyes open.

  He may return.

  Or worse... he may not be alone."

  The assassins began gathering the bodies of the fallen.

  Jamih watched them, then turned his gaze outward—toward the dunes, toward the stars.

  The night sky of Silva shimmered above them, beautiful and indifferent.

  And Jamih knew:

  They weren’t the only ones doing the assassinating.

  They could end up being assassinated too.

  He muttered to himself:

  "First a foolish merchant...

  Then cursed elf's tribe...

  An odd old man wandering around with his silly cart.

  Now a stranger attacks us in the dead of night..."

  He took a long drink, hand resting on the hilt of his blade.

  "Something's happening.

  Not just in this valley.

  Not just in the desert.

  But across all of Silva..."

  As Jamih returned back to the hideout ...

  How everything so far?

  hope you successfully flee from the stranger?

  Special song for Jamih:

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