‎I was just a kid, living with my family. The world was small, simple. The sun baked the sand beneath my feet, my mother’s voice hummed in the wind, and Rahim’s laughter chased me through the alleys of our village. Peace wrapped around us like a warm blanket.

‎

‎But peace… peace is fragile

‎

‎I returned one afternoon, the air heavy with heat and dust, and something felt… wrong. The usual chatter of neighbors, the clatter of carts, even the birdsong—all gone. Only silence. Thick, suffocating, unnatural.

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‎And then I saw it.

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‎The remains of our home, smoke curling lazily into the sky. Scorched earth where our clan, the Zarvani, once thrived. My heart froze. My legs moved on their own, carrying me across broken clay walls and blackened remnants of life.

‎

‎I called for my parents, my voice raw and trembling. Nothing. Just the whisper of the wind. And then I saw them—my mother, my father. Lifeless. Eyes staring at a world that had betrayed them.

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‎My chest constricted, my stomach twisted. I wanted to scream, but no sound came. This was the first time I had seen real death. Fear mingled with something darker—pain, confusion… rage.

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‎I searched for Rahim, my brother, my protector, my guide. But he was gone. Not a shadow, not a trace. And then the truth hit me—he had betrayed us. He had destroyed everything.

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‎Hatred burned in me hotter than the desert sun. Every memory of him, every laugh, every lesson… poisoned with rage. And I swore, standing amidst the ashes: I would never forgive. I would never forget. One day… he would pay.

‎

‎The desert wind whipped around me, carrying the scent of dust and blood. I wasn’t mourning. Not anymore. I was sharpening myself like a blade forged in fire and grief. The Bezinjo may have fallen… but I would rise. And Rahim… Rahim would burn.

‎

‎

‎---

‎

‎Chakar was resting in a tent far away, the lands of Noshken spread before him. He knew the people there might hate him for being an outsider, but he continued his journey—to become a Seyrah.

‎

‎Chakar lay in the tent, dust clinging to his hair, the desert wind flapping the canvas like restless wings. His body ached from days of walking, but his mind stayed sharp, eyes tracing the horizon where Noshken waited.

‎

‎From behind a dune, a scruffy traveler emerged, leaning on a wooden staff. “Kid, you walking straight into Noshken, huh?” he called.

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‎Chakar didn’t look at him. “I’m going,” he said flatly, voice quiet but firm.

‎

‎The man laughed softly. “You look… small. Reckon the city can handle you?”

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‎Chakar’s jaw tightened. “I’ll handle it.”

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‎The traveler squinted, studying him. “No fear? No hesitation?”

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‎“Fear won’t move me,” Chakar replied, eyes still on the horizon.

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‎The man chuckled. “Mmm… smart kid. Or stupid. Sometimes the difference ain’t clear until it’s too late.”

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‎Chakar shrugged lightly, his voice even. “I don’t plan on failing.”

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‎The traveler’s smile faded a little. “Bold words. Desert can teach you plenty, but the city… it’s a different beast. People there won’t care who you are or what you’ve survived.”

‎

‎“I know,” Chakar said simply. “That’s why I’m going.”

‎

‎A pause. The wind shifted, sand rising like fleeting shadows.

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‎“You’re carrying something, kid,” the man said slowly, almost a warning. “Everyone’s carrying something. Some of it breaks them. Some… it makes ‘em dangerous.”

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‎Chakar’s gaze remained distant, unreadable. He didn’t answer. He never intended to.

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‎The man shrugged, taking a step back. “Suit yourself. Just remember… strength isn’t everything. Patience, cunning… fire in your heart. Don’t let the city burn you before you get there.”

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‎Chakar finally blinked, eyes glinting like the desert sun. “I’ll rise. That’s enough.”

‎

‎The traveler watched him stride into the dunes, silent, purposeful. Something in that boy—a weight, a darkness—made even a desert wanderer uneasy. Chakar’s past, his pain, his hatred… none of it spilled. It stayed buried, locked away, fueling every step toward Noshken.

‎

‎

‎---

‎

‎Chakar didn’t look back. Each step on the scorching sand was deliberate, every movement measured. The desert had taught him endurance, patience, focus. By night, anger drove him. By day, his water technique kept him alive.

‎

‎Eventually, he reached the lands of Noshken, spotting a thief being chased by a boy and girl. The girl’s hands glowed as she summoned earth magic, trapping the man in jagged roots.

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‎Without hesitation, Chakar gripped the thief’s neck and tossed him at her feet.

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‎“Are you new?” she asked cautiously. “You don’t look familiar.”

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‎“At least thank him,” the boy said.

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‎“Oh—thank you,” she murmured.

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‎“I’m Chakar,” he said.

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‎“I’m Gull Bahar,” she replied, “and this is Salal.”

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‎Salal nodded. “Come on, I’ll guide you to Noshken.”

‎

‎At the gates, guards eyed him suspiciously until Gull Bahar vouched for him. Inside, the city rose like a fortress of polished streets lined with intricate designs. Salal urged him to join the academy. They brought him to Hanzil, the sixth Shang, who gave him enough coin to rent a room.

‎

‎That night, sitting on the bed, Chakar stared at moonlight spilling across the floor. Was this the life he needed—or was he here only to find the thing that had taken everyone he loved?

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‎He whispered into the empty room, voice rough and quiet:

‎“I hate the moon… and the sun. The moment my elder brother was sold… that’s when I started hating everyone. He got a family… and I got none. I was dead inside, worrying I’d never have a home. But I’ll make him pay. I’ll kill him… because he has everything I lost.”

‎

‎That night, Chakar sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the moonlight spilling across the floor. Salal, ever nosy, leaned against the wall, grinning.

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‎Salal: “Hey Chakar… what’re you mumbling about? Heheheh.”

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‎Chakar: glances at him, cold “Don’t ask questions.”

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‎Salal: shrugs, silly grin “Well… anyways, can we, like, introduce ourselves properly?”

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‎Chakar: sighs, but a flicker of interest shows “Maybe… I might have an interest.”

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‎Salal: “Cool. So… what clan are you from?”

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‎Chakar hesitated for a heartbeat, then decided he felt… comfortable enough.

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‎Chakar: “Zarvani.”

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‎Salal’s eyes widened in exaggerated shock, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

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‎Salal: “Your… clan what?!?!”

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‎Chakar: flat, deadpan “Zarvani.”

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‎Chakar: “Now, what about you?”

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‎Salal: puffs chest, mock pride and silliness mixed “Nashkari. Totally. Royal blood… sorta.”

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‎Chakar: raises an eyebrow “So… you’re from a royal clan.”

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‎Salal: laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head “Well… kinda. But, uh… our royalty got, you know, yanked away by betrayals. Classic.”

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‎Chakar: “I see. Now… can you leave me alone?”

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‎Salal: grins, teasing “Nah, baga.”

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‎Chakar: narrows eyes “Behave your words.”

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‎Salal: hands up, mock surrender “Okay, buddy, okay. I’m behave… for now. But let's go somewhere in village being in a room is so boring ”

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‎Chakar:no I wanna rest you can go if you want

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‎Salal:(in a goofy teasy silly mood):ahh ah always like that I'm going anyways

‎

‎“Salal climbs out through Chakar’s window, grinning like a fool as he disappears into the night.

‎