The clang of steel against steel split the air, each strike followed by cries of pain and desperation. Smoke rose like black banners, swallowing the sun and drowning the sky in shadow.
Al-Basra, the pearl of the two rivers, was burning.
The Mongolian horde stormed the streets with ruthless precision, their war cries echoing like thunder. Fire leapt from roof to roof, devouring the market stalls, homes, and mosques. Horses trampled the fallen; arrows pierced through men and women alike. Blood mixed with the waters of the canals until they ran red, carrying the lifeblood of the city into the Tigris.
Yet the fiercest battle raged not at the gates, but in the heart of Basra: the Grand Library. Its towering walls, once a sanctuary for scholars, poets, and astronomers, now became a fortress for desperate men. Soldiers clashed with Mongol steel at its doors, their bodies falling one by one onto the steps.
Inside, scrolls and manuscripts—treasures gathered across centuries—burned. Ink ran like tears down the shelves as fire consumed knowledge that had survived since Babylon and beyond. The air reeked of parchment, ash, and sorrow.
Dhia, a lieutenant of the city guard, fought until his arms shook and his blade grew dull. Around him, his men fell—friends, brothers, men who had laughed with him in dry taverns, prayed with him in mosques, and sworn oaths of loyalty under the same banner.
When his shield split and an arrow lodged deep in his side, he staggered back. His vision blurred, the screams grew faint, and the heat of fire pressed down on him like a shroud.
He collapsed among the bodies, his cheek pressed to the blood-soaked earth.
"So this is the end?" The words rasped from his throat, bitter and cracked. "Damn… my wedding was in a month." A humorless chuckle escaped him. "Life failed me."
His eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to death's embrace. Around him, Basra's last defenders were cut down, and by nightfall the Mongols marched west, leaving only ruin behind.
And in the silence of the aftermath, beneath the drifting ash, Dhia lay unmoving.