Silent Return

The midnight silence had settled over the city like a shroud. Arash approached the Keyhan mansion with cautious steps, his shadow sliding across the cobblestones in the moonlight like a wandering spirit. The courtyard was empty—Master Keyhan's carriage had not yet returned. This was good news, but Arash knew time was running out.

He went to the back door. Three soft knocks, one loud knock—the code that he created. Then he waited. Throughout these moments, his heart beat with an irregular rhythm. The door slowly opened and Nora appeared with an anxious face. Her black eyes were filled with worry and anger.

"Get inside quickly, Arash!" she whispered, her voice trembling with fear. "The master could return any moment. Where have you been until this hour of the night?"

Arash, without any reaction, intended to go upstairs, but Nora blocked his way. Her hands were placed on his chest.

"Where were you? Why did you come so late?" Her voice now trembled with anger and fear. "You said you were only going out for a few hours. Do you know how many times Lady Khadijeh almost came to your room? You don't know how I stopped her. If they had realized you weren't here..."

Arash raised his hand and gave her a cold look.

"Be quiet, Nora." His tone was icy. "Go to your room and sleep. You don't need to know anything."

Nora stepped back as if she had been slapped. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Arash... what are you doing?"

Arash passed by her without answering and went upstairs. Nora was left alone, her mind full of unanswered questions and a deep fear of what was happening.

Master Hirbad

The next day, the sky was cloudy and gloomy. Arash made his way to the small house of Master Hirbad, a place that always smelled of old books and the scent of the past. The old man sat behind his worn wooden desk, leafing through an ancient book. His small glasses hung on the tip of his nose, and he seemed lost in another world.

"Greetings, Master Hirbad."

The old man looked up. The deep wrinkles of his face in the candlelight looked like a map of years full of suffering and experience.

"Ah, Arash, my boy. What wind has brought you to this old house?" His tone was calm, but his gaze was sharp as always.

Arash took a deep breath. "Master, my sister and I participated in the fire ceremony a few days ago."

"Excellent, my boy!" Pirbod's eyes lit up. "How quickly time passes. I had forgotten you had turned fourteen."

Arash looked at Pirbod indifferently. "I haven't, Master. Two years still remained, but... we went early and my sister wasn't chosen. I also became an Ashborn."

Hirbad's face suddenly became grim. He removed his glasses and cleaned them carefully, as if digesting this news.

"Which fool gave you permission?" His voice was now cold and angry. "Boy, fire has its time. Perhaps if you had gone at the appointed time, the fire would have chosen you. The best time is always at the appointed hour. But no one knows why the flame chooses as it does."

"The sacred flame is all the energy of the world and the inner energy of humans. Even if you are not chosen, without it everywhere is dark," Pirbod leaned back.

Arash sighed, as if the weight of the entire world was pressing on his shoulders.

"Master, you who have lived in this city for years and know many people... I need your help."

Hirbad put his glasses back on his nose and gave Arash a sharp look.

"Tell me directly what you want, boy. I don't have much time and I hate roundabout talk."

Arash pulled a small pouch from his pocket and placed it on the desk. The sound of coins echoed in the silence of the house.

"I need money. Just for one night. These are all my savings, but they're not enough."

Hirbad opened the pouch and carefully counted the coins. His old, trembling fingers examined each one.

"Thirty-four gold coins... for what purpose, boy?"

Arash looked directly into his eyes. "To save my sister."

A heavy silence settled in the house. Even the sound of the candle burning was audible. Hirbad removed his glasses again and cleaned them with slow, thoughtful movements. Then he cast a deep, penetrating look into Arash's eyes.

"Vishi?" he asked, his voice like the whisper of death.

"Yes."

"It's dangerous, boy." Hirbad stood up and began pacing. "There are ruthless men there for whom human life is worth less than a coin. They have stained their hands with blood and for money and power stones, they would sell their own mothers."

"I know." Arash answered firmly. "But I have no other way. My sister will be in the slave market tomorrow. I cannot allow her to..."

Hirbad raised his hand. "Enough." He sighed deeply and went to a small chest in the corner of the room. With a key hanging from his neck, he opened it and took out sixteen more gold coins.

"You'll return double," he said, placing the coins on the desk. The sound of metal hitting wood rang like a death knell.

"Triple." Arash said without hesitation.

Hirbad  smiled bitterly and sadly. "Triple then. I hope you know what you're doing, boy. Vishi has been the graveyard of many greedy and foolish young men. Young men who thought they could defeat fate."

The Night of the Hunt

That night, Arash returned to the heart of the city's darkness and then to Vishi. This time not for gambling, but for study and planning. He had to carefully choose his prey—someone who was both wealthy and arrogant enough to fall into his trap.

The atmosphere of Vishi was always the same: thick air from incense and tobacco smoke that burned the lungs, the sound of dice on bone boards that echoed like the sound of death, secretive whispers that wound around ears, and empty, meaningless laughter that tormented the soul. Arash stood in a dark corner and with a hunter's patience, studied the movements of each gambler.

His gaze focused on a man from the Ruby Amber clan. A man who came here every night, had plenty of money, but whose weakness was excessive pride and hatred for the Ashborn.

Nora's Worry

During this time, Nora paced around the Keyhan mansion like a mouse in a cage. Every time Master Keyhan asked about Arash, her heart jumped and her hands trembled.

"Nora, where is Arash?" Master Keyhan asked with a suspicious tone.

"Master, he said he was going to see his sister," Nora tried to make her voice sound natural.

Master Keyhan looked at her with confusion. "Again? How many times has he gone?"

"I don't know, Master. Perhaps..." Nora felt her voice beginning to tremble.

"It's natural," the master finally said, but doubt was visible in his eyes. "These are the last days before the sale. It's natural for a brother to be worried."

But Nora knew Arash wasn't that simple. He had gotten caught up in a dangerous game whose rules he didn't know and whose consequences he didn't understand.

The Night of Destiny

The night before the slave market arrived. Arash returned to Vishi with a pouch containing fifty gold coins in his pocket. His heart was beating fast and cold sweat had settled on his forehead, but his face remained cool and calculating.

He had found his target: Kamran, a man from the House of Ruby Ember who had been present at Vishi every night. A wealthy man but addicted to gambling and full of racial prejudice.

Arash started with small games first. One coin, two coins, alternating wins and losses. Gradually he added to his own confidence as well as the Ruby Ember man's trust.

"My name is Arash," he introduced himself with a friendly but cautious tone.

The man cast a contemptuous and hateful look at him. "I am Kamran Ruby Ember. And you... you're just a despicable Ashborn."

"You're right, Mr. Kamran," Arash smiled faintly, as if he enjoyed this insult. "But my coins aren't ash-colored."

Kamran laughed sarcastically and invited Arash to play.

After a few hands of carefully designed games, Arash managed to gain Kamran's trust. Now it was time to begin the main phase—the phase that would either save him or destroy him.

"I have a special proposal," Arash leaned forward and lowered his voice. "A real game for real men. Thirty coins per hand."

Kamran's eyes gleamed with greed. "Interesting, ash boy. Let's start and see how much courage you have."

First hand: Arash lost. All thirty of his coins went to Kamran. His face was indifferent, but inside him a storm of stress and hope was pounding.

Second hand: He lost again. Now he had lost sixty coins—more than all his money.

Kamran laughed with satisfaction, a disgusting laugh full of contempt. "It seems your luck has run out, ash boy. Maybe you should surrender right now before you're further humiliated."

But Arash was calm, with a deadly calm. This was all intentional. He had to make Kamran confident that he was the certain winner and that victory was no longer deniable.

Arash calmly pulled out his ash-gray Essence stone from his pocket. A stone that gleamed in the candlelight and radiated a strange power. The rustling sound of it on the wooden table drew everyone's attention and whispers filled the air.

"This..." Kamran said with surprise and greed. "This is an ash Essence stone? You're crazy, this jewel stone is yours..."

"That's right," Arash spun the stone between his fingers, as if playing with fire. "Its value in the market is one thousand six hundred gold coins. Maybe more."

Murmurs of amazement arose among the spectators. Kamran, who was himself a Kindled, knew the true value of this stone well. Ash Essence stone were very useful and expensive for power stone combinations, as they significantly increased the success of combinations for the Kindled, but only the Ashborn possessed these stones.

"My final proposal is this," Arash continued, his voice now firm and powerful. "If I lose, this stone is yours. But if you are the loser, you must give me seven hundred gold coins."

Kamran thought for a moment. Seven hundred coins was less than half the stone's actual value. It was a very profitable deal for him, especially since he was sure he would win. This ash boy had just been lucky, nothing more.

"Accepted." He extended his hand. "But this time let's play backgammon. I want to defeat you in a man's game."

They began playing backgammon. Kamran had great confidence and every move was full of pride, but Arash knew how to control the game. He not only threw the dice, but also crafted fate.

At first it seemed that Kamran was winning, but gradually luck turned toward Arash.

People around the table whispered: "This boy is getting lucky in this game."

Kamran heard the voices but tried to remain indifferent. "Heh, looks like his luck has run out."

But when he saw Arash getting ahead, his tone changed.

"You're very lucky, you're doing well, boy, but don't get too happy. The game isn't over yet."

Arash gave Kamran a very calm, sharp, and cold look. "Mr. Kamran, backgammon, contrary to what everyone thinks, has nothing to do with luck."

"What nonsense are you talking about?"

"Backgammon is like life," Arash continued, his voice now sharp as a blade. "You don't know what dice will come to you, just like life's events. But what matters is that you must make the best moves according to the dice you've rolled to win. If in life you don't perform your best according to what comes to you, you will never succeed."

Kamran became angry. "Are you weaving philosophy or playing?"

Move by move, Arash executed his plan. He trapped Kamran and turned every mistake of the Ruby Ember man to his advantage. Finally, With a swift, decisive move that closed off Kamran's last escape route, Arash bore off his final checker and declared with quiet triumph: 'Gammon. 

"I am the winner," Arash said calmly, as if discussing the weather.

Kamran looked at the board in disbelief. His eyes had filled with anger and despair.

"This... this is impossible! You must have cheated!"

"Seven hundred gold coins." Arash extended his hand, completely indifferent to the cheating accusation.

Kamran shouted with a face red with anger: "You... you cheated, you bastard!"

"Prove it," Arash calmly collected the coins and retrieved his jewel stone. "Or shut up and pay your money."

The spectators began to murmur and create a commotion. Some of them cast threatening looks at Arash. The atmosphere was becoming dangerous and he knew he had to flee quickly.

Kamran was forced to pay his money, but when Arash took the pouch, he whispered: "This isn't over, ash boy. I will find you."

Without another word, Arash stood up and left Vishi with quick but apparently calm steps. A strange anxiety had overcome him. When he reached a safe distance, he began running until he was out of breath.

Counting the Results

In a dark, abandoned alley, Arash stopped and counted his money with trembling hands. Seven hundred gold coins—purchasing power equivalent to at least four slaves. An enormous sum that could change the fate of him and Azar.

But he knew this was only the beginning. Greater difficulties awaited him. Only one more day remained until the slave market was held, and he had to perfect his plan.

With a cold, calculating smile, Arash headed toward the Keyhan mansion. The time had come to begin the next phase of his dangerous game.

Only one more day remained until Friday—the day that would determine the fate of him and Azar.

Dangerous Return

Master Keyhan's carriage had stopped in front of the mansion entrance. Arash had spent a long time at Vishi and now with a large pouch of coins in his pocket, how could he enter the mansion without being suspicious?

He moved a little forward. The master had just arrived and had not yet entered the mansion. The sound of his footsteps on the cobblestones could be heard. Arash had to get inside as quickly as possible before Master Keyhan realized he had been out until this hour of the night.

If suspicion arose, all his plans might be ruined and Azar would be lost to him forever.

The shadows were his allies, but time was his enemy.