Alan and Hannah travelled for several weeks before reaching Majida, a small settlement built along an ancient trade route. Merchants from distant lands gathered there to exchange spices, fabrics and precious stones. The town was usually lively, but on the evening of their arrival, rain drove everyone indoors.
They entered an inn and found a group of travelers gathered around an elderly storyteller.
"Do not wander beyond the city walls after dark," the storyteller warned. "The ghouls are hunting again."
Alan took a seat.
The old man explained that ghouls were creatures of desert folklore, often associated with abandoned places, graveyards and lonely roads. They could appear as animals or even beautiful human beings. Some used familiar voices to lure travelers away from safety. Others waited beside false campfires, pretending to be helpless strangers.
"They feed on the dead," the storyteller continued, "but they prefer living flesh. They are strong, cunning and difficult to kill. The old stories say that one clean blow to the neck can destroy them. If you strike twice, the creature may rise again."
A sudden commotion interrupted him.
A man burst into the inn.
"It is here! The ghoul is here!"
The guests rushed towards the doors, but Alan remained seated for a moment. He looked at Hannah.
"Stay inside."
She immediately shook her head.
"Your arm is still injured."
"I can manage."
"You said that last time."
Alan did not argue. He took his sword in his left hand and stepped outside.
The rain had stopped. The streets were deserted, and the wind carried the smell of damp earth. His horse shifted nervously.
Then he heard a low growl.
A pale figure emerged from an alley. At first, it looked like a woman wearing a white dress. Its face was almost human, and it smiled as though it recognised him.
"Help me," it whispered.
Alan did not approach.
The figure's smile widened.
Its skin began to stretch, its jaw opened unnaturally, and its limbs bent in ways no human body could manage. It dropped onto all fours and rushed towards him.
Alan raised his sword.
The ghoul struck him before he could move. Its claws tore across his back, sending him crashing onto the wet street. His injured arm was useless, and his sword slipped from his hand.
The creature climbed onto him.
Alan struggled, but its weight pinned him down. He reached for his sword with his left hand, only to find it just beyond his fingers.
Then Hannah arrived.
She had ignored his instructions and followed him outside. She seized his sword and struck the ghoul once, cleanly severing its head.
The creature collapsed.
Hannah stood over it, breathing heavily.
"Are you alive?"
Alan tried to sit up.
"Unfortunately for the ghoul."
She almost laughed, but the sight of his injuries quickly erased her relief. She helped him back to the inn, where the storyteller examined the wound.
"The ghoul's blood is said to have healing properties," the old man explained. "But it must be used carefully."
He collected a small amount of the creature's blood and prepared a mixture with medicinal herbs. Hannah helped apply it to Alan's injured arm.
The burning sensation gradually eased.
Over the following days, the infection began to disappear. Alan's wound did not heal completely, but the ghoul's blood had stopped it from spreading.
During his recovery, Alan and Hannah spent more time together. They spoke about their families, their childhoods and the futures they imagined for themselves.
One evening, Hannah finally asked him why he never spoke about his mother.
Alan stared at the rain falling beyond the window.
"She died before I could understand what death meant. My father followed her soon after. Sometimes I remember their faces clearly. Other times, I am afraid that I am forgetting them."
Hannah took his hand.
"Remembering them does not mean you must spend your entire life suffering."
Alan looked at her.
"I don't know how to stop."
"Then perhaps you should learn."
He had no answer, but he did not withdraw his hand.
When Alan was strong enough to travel, the pair left Majida. They had survived another monster, but the journey had changed them. Hannah was no longer simply the princess he had rescued. She had become his companion, his equal and the person he trusted most.