The city was astir. Neon symbols illuminated the ink-black sky with glimmering snow in the ambiance and a hectic crowd that seemingly maintained no end. The ice blue moon shined brilliantly over the seething and immoral slums stacked like bricks. The smell of blood and sewage paired with the screams and chants in the streets were not pleasant in the slightest. Joonam sauntered to the vendor. The biting cold was agonizing with the icy gusts of wind arriving from the rigid peaks.
"My earnings won't be enough." He concerned. The ration dispensary had reduced portions from last week and had become more costly. The shares circulated were comparative to nothing. The insufficient food was discolored, parched, bitter, miniature enough to fit in the palm of a hand. Joonam ate the food as quickly as it was received. It handled like sandpaper against one's tongue; His stomach rumbled in starvation.
"I'll buy some more next week." He sighs.
Joonam's eyes were colder than ice. A slim body, only covered by weightless and torn clothes; Dangerous in weather so harsh. He had short golden hair and rose pale skin. He grew up impoverished, as did his family but somehow, he held a beautiful smile as the nights moved on.
His hands began quivering. The marching of time began to halt; A cold shiver down one's spine. Black closing in; consciousness fleeting. A silhouette. Seemingly callous.
Joonam woke in a panic, covered in a paisley robe outlined in black and woven with silk.
"Where am I?"
Lays before him; an enormous room with maroon curtains and embroidered tapestry telling tales old as millennia. An extensive bed with crimson sheets riddled with complex designs traced in gold. Such detail and precision knitted in the fabric alone. Baroque chairs and tables were laid out across the quarters with burgundy walls decorated with sultan royalty, a lineage spanning generations. A large painting hung over the bed depicting Ghilman with spears and kilijes murdering the blameless. Joonam leaped out of the welcoming blankets and carmine pillows soft to the touch.
"This isn't happening." He cries.
He runs to the large doors across the bed and tries to open them. There aren't any handles. In a flurry, Joonam moves the heavy and decorated curtains to reveal a stunning palace with a large fountain surrounded by an array of tulips and pomegranate trees.
Joonam found himself in a mystifying landscape without constant famine and death. Past the flowers and laboring slaves were tall buildings puncturing the clouds, a visual paradise.
A whirring sound came from the immense mahogany entrances. The doors slowly opened. One opening descended below while the other ascended above elegantly. Behind the cold metal frame stood a tall man with black hair and a large beard. Piercing pecs, he had the upper body of a Greek god. Winter gray eyes, Wearing the same robe as Joonam. The timid boy took a few steps back.
"Who are you?"
The stern man gently smiles.
"Come with me."
Joonam unhurriedly followed, dreading what could happen next.
As they walk down the halls, the new arrival noticed the exotic decor imported from many countries and governments. Paintings of revelries and conflict were on the walls. The bearded man abruptly stopped in front of the large portrait of himself hung above the black vase filled with dead roses.
“This is where you will train as my servant.” The man exclaimed in a deep voice.
Joonam was speechless.
“I am Alibek, your new master.”
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