The Night
The wind howled eerily through the barren plains as Shehzadi Nayab reached the marked location, her eyes scanning every shadow. A handful of her most loyal soldiers flanked her, all equally alert, weapons drawn, eyes sharp.
She raised her hand. "Spread out. Something's not right."
Meanwhile, hidden in the darkness beyond the sand dunes, Yousuf crouched low, observing every movement. He was alone. His mind ran through every possibility. Why here? Why like this? He had followed the instructions in the letter exactly. Arrive alone, quietly, or the King would die.
But as his eyes moved, he froze. In the center of the rocky clearing, a figure stood silently. It was Hashim.
Then, from another direction, Fatima appeared, confusion etched across her face.
Seconds later, Qasim emerged, sweat glistening on his brow. He halted the moment he saw Fatima and Hashim.
All four stared at each other.
Silence.
Hashim took a cautious step forward, his voice strained but sharp.
"Fatima… you sent me a letter. You said you wanted to meet me. You said you couldn't stay away any longer. That you'd be waiting here."
Fatima's face twisted in confusion and disbelief. "No… no, Hashim. I received a letter saying you were in danger. That if I wanted to save you, I had to come here… alone."
Hashim's expression crumbled. "Then… you didn't send that?"
Fatima stepped back. "No. I thought you were being held."
Qasim's eyes narrowed. "Wait. I got a letter too. It said IF you want to prove your loyalty then come here Nayab' was here, and if I wanted to help bring justice… I had to come."
At that moment, Yousuf stepped out from the shadows, his sword drawn. "I got a letter about the King. That he's been poisoned… that the antidote would be handed over here if I came. Alone."
Nayab, alarmed by the rising tension, signaled her soldiers to hold position as she walked forward. Her voice calm but trembling.
"So we all got letters. Each one tailored to our hearts. Our fears. Our people."
A thick silence fell.
Then Hashim said what they were all thinking.
"Then who sent them? Who knew exactly how to reach into each of us?"
Fatima looked pale. "Someone who knows us. Every one of us."
Qasim scanned the area. "And why this exact spot? Why all of us at once?"
Suddenly, the wind picked up. A loud screech echoed from the trees. The soldiers turned sharply.
From the darkness, a figure in a long cloak appeared—face covered, voice distorted.
"You all came. Good. That means you care. That means you're all vulnerable."
Nayab stepped forward. "Who are you? Why call us here?"
The figure laughed coldly. "To show you one thing — you're not in control anymore."
Yousuf advanced, sword still up. "You played with our emotions."
"Yes," the figure said calmly. "And you obeyed them. Letters with lies — yet none of you questioned it. Because deep down, you all are afraid. Of losing. Of failing. Of truth."
Fatima whispered, "This was a trap. But not for attack… it was a message."
Hashim clenched his fists. "Why us?"
The figure raised a gloved hand. "Because each of you stands at the center of a storm. And soon… you will face it alone. Tonight was only the beginning."
And just as quickly as they appeared, the figure turned and vanished leaving behind only the echo of that chilling laugh.
Everyone looked at one another — more confused than ever.
Nayab broke the silence. "This isn't over. Whoever did this knows us from the inside. We need to find out who's watching us."
Qasim nodded. "Before it's too late."
All of them had come believing they were saving someone…
But now they realized — they were all being hunted.
They all stayed completely alert, their eyes scanning every direction of the high mountain top. The wind blew harder at this height, sending chills down their spines. Each one of them had a strange feeling—as if something was about to happen. Yousuf gripped his sword tighter, standing behind a large boulder for cover. Princess Nayab stood with her soldiers, her sharp eyes watching every edge of the rocky cliff. Fatima's breathing grew heavier, her eyes darting around the rocky terrain.
Qasim stared into the distant horizon, where the moon was setting behind the peaks. Hashim kept glancing behind, the narrow path they came from now covered with shadows. They were all alone—yet it felt like they were together. All had received different letters, and somehow they had all arrived at the same place—this lonely, dangerous mountain peak.
Then, without warning, the wind changed.
Something moved fast—too fast.
Suddenly, Hashim was attacked.
A shadowy figure charged at him from the side of a large rock. Hashim quickly pulled out his sword, just in time to block the strike. Steel clashed with steel, and the sound echoed across the mountain. Dust flew from the ground. He staggered back.
Then—another movement.
The figure turned and leapt toward Nayab.
Qasim saw it first and rushed forward, sword raised.
"Nayab!" he shouted.
But Nayab's soldiers immediately stepped between them, drawing their swords and pointing them straight at Qasim.
"Don't even think about it," one of them warned coldly.
Qasim froze in place, confused and breathing hard. He wasn't there to hurt her—he had only wanted to protect her.
Before anyone could speak again, a masked man appeared from behind a large rock. His movements were swift and sharp—trained and dangerous.
Without a word, he struck again.
This time, both Yousuf and Qasim raised their swords.
The masked attacker didn't hesitate. He moved like wind—slashing, stepping, dodging. His speed was beyond anything they had seen. He jumped across the rocky ledges as if flying. Qasim blocked a hard strike, and Yousuf parried another. They moved together, but the masked man was relentless.
Every time his sword clashed, sparks flew.
He spun and flipped across the mountain rocks. His feet barely touched the ground. Each attack came from a new direction.
"Who is he?" Hashim muttered, nursing a cut on his arm.
Fatima stood still, frozen in shock. She couldn't speak. Nayab's soldiers surrounded her tightly. Princess Maryam stood tall, commanding her guards to stay alert.
The masked man was too fast.
Qasim slashed back with power, but the attacker ducked and countered with a strike that nearly grazed his shoulder. Yousuf charged with force, and their blades met midair.
They were fighting hard, breathing heavy, their backs brushing against rocks and narrow ledges.
One wrong step, and any of them could fall off the cliff.
Still, the masked man kept pushing.
He jumped high into the air, twisted mid-spin, and landed behind them. His sword flew again—clink!—against Qasim's. They clashed. Steel screamed on steel.
Out of nowhere'the Mask man throw a smoke
Thick white smoke spread in every direction. The cold mountain air mixed with the smoke, making it worse. Eyes burned. Coughs echoed.
"Don't move!" Nayab shouted.
"Stay close!" Yousuf added.
But the smoke covered everything.
Qasim waved his sword in the air blindly, trying to sense movement. His heartbeat roared in his ears. Yousuf coughed and tried to hold his breath. The soldiers surrounded Nayab tighter. Fatima hind behind a rock, her hands shaking.
The smoke began to clear.
And the attacker was gone.
Only silence remained—broken only by the wind and heavy breathing.
The mountain peak looked untouched, like nothing had happened. But their hearts knew better.
"Who sent the letters?" Fatima finally asked in a trembling voice.
Everyone looked at each other.
"I didn't send you anything," Hashim said to her.
"But I got a letter from you…" Fatima replied.
Yousif stepped forward. "My letter said I could save the king if I came here. It said the poison's cure is here."
Hashim looked at her. "Then it wasn't you who called me here either."
Qasim stayed silent.
Nayab's voice broke softly, "My letter said the killer of my father is here… and I believed it."
One by one, the truth was clear—none of them had sent those letters.
So then… who had?
Their eyes scanned the mountain.
They thought they were alone.
But now, they knew…
Someone else was watching.
And this battle—
Was just the beginning.
Questions for Readers:
Who do you think sent the letters? Is it someone close to them?
What does the cloaked figure mean by "each of you stands at the center of a storm"?
Who do you think will be the first to break under pressure?
Comment your theories below!
Written By
Sabir Ali
Thanks For reading