Saif arrived at Arwa Riyasat under the cloak of night, the air thick with the smell of rain and anticipation. His entourage had traveled swiftly, though the journey had worn on them all. His eyes, however, remained sharp, scanning the sprawling palace walls, the grand architecture that reflected his kingdom’s own strength. The tension of the mission ahead clouded his every thought. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the walls of Arwa Riyasat were somehow closing in on him, and the shadows were stretching farther than he could see. He had to make his move—and fast.
A group of soldiers followed closely behind, their footsteps muffled by the wet ground. His siblings, Zohra and Zohan, walked beside him, their presence a comfort in an otherwise chaotic time. But even their proximity couldn’t quell the gnawing unrest in Saif’s chest. His mind was consumed by the conspiracy festering in the heart of his kingdom—someone, somewhere, was working against them.
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