The maid's words echoed in my ears relentlessly as I trudged home, my steps heavy with unease. "The Sultana is addicted to you. Be careful, or your life is in danger." Her warning had filled me with dread, leaving me to question my every move.
By the time I reached home, the streets were bathed in the somber hues of dusk. My uncle called out to me from the veranda, his voice tinged with concern. But I ignored him and went straight to my room. Closing the door behind me, I slumped onto my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Sleep was an elusive companion that night. My thoughts were a tempest of fear and uncertainty.
I kept replaying the day's events in my mind—the Sultana's mesmerizing gaze, the fluttering bird, the maid's cryptic words. What had I done to draw such attention? What was it about me that had so captivated her? And, most troubling of all, what danger awaited me?
A soft knock interrupted my brooding. My uncle entered, holding a lantern, its flickering light casting long shadows across the walls. "Sitting in the dark won't solve your problems, son," he said, his voice steady and reassuring.
I sat up, clutching my knees to my chest. "Uncle," I began hesitantly, "the Sultana has summoned me again tomorrow."
He raised an eyebrow. "And what is troubling you? Isn't this a rare honor?"
I shook my head and recounted the day's events, sparing no detail. When I mentioned the maid's warning, his expression grew serious. "She said the Sultana is addicted to me. She warned me that my life could be in danger," I added, my voice barely above a whisper.
Uncle's face darkened, and he stroked his beard thoughtfully. After a long silence, he said, "The lantern is enough to light your way in darkness, son. In times of trouble, even the smallest help can be your salvation. Perhaps this maid has shown you a path. If she warned you, it means she pities you. Stay close to her tomorrow—she may be your only ally."
His words offered some comfort, but my mind was far from at ease. "Uncle," I asked hesitantly, "you once said the Sultana is a magician. Tell me more about her."
Uncle's eyes narrowed as he leaned closer. "The Sultana is no ordinary ruler. She possesses secrets and powers that few understand. I've heard tales of her keeping creatures that are neither fully human nor fully beast—men with the heads of animals and beasts with the faces of men. Some say they are the result of forbidden experiments."
I shivered at the thought. "What else do you know?"
He continued, "There is a cradle-like contraption she carries with her. Inside it is a magical stone capable of pulling iron weapons from her enemies. She uses this power to protect herself."
"A magnet," I said, my curiosity piqued. "If I could get my hands on it, I could make a generator."
Uncle's expression softened, and he nodded. "Perhaps. But it won't be easy to take anything from her."
He paused, then added, "She also keeps animals from distant lands. They produce milk of extraordinary potency, which she consumes herself and gives to her bodyguards. That's why they are so powerful, both in strength and endurance."
I couldn't help but smile at the irony. "Uncle, you've solved my problem without realizing it. If I can't get the magnet, I can use the milk—or even its dung and urine. With the right methods, I could generate electricity."
Uncle chuckled, patting my shoulder. "You're resourceful, son. That's why you'll survive this."
Buoyed by hope, I ate with Uncle and finally managed to sleep.
---
The next morning, I woke early, my resolve strengthened. Uncle came to my room as I was preparing. He held a small amulet in his hand. "Tie this around your neck," he said solemnly.
I hesitated. "You tie it for me, Uncle."
He fastened the amulet and placed his hands on my shoulders. "This will protect you in dark times. Whatever happens, don't remove it. And be cautious around the Sultana. Remember, son, even the brightest jewels can cast the darkest shadows."
"I will, Uncle," I said, my voice firm.
Just as I stepped outside, the soldiers arrived. Their armor gleamed under the morning sun, their expressions as stoic as the stone walls of the palace.
One soldier gestured impatiently. "Let's go. The Sultana doesn't like to wait."
I embraced Uncle one last time before following them. As we walked, the soldiers behind me began to whisper.
"Will we have to bring him every day?" one muttered.
"He's only here for a few days," another replied. "But mark my words—this young boy won't leave unscathed. The Sultana always has her way."
"Why imprison him?" the first soldier asked. "What has he done to deserve this?"
The older guard glanced at the younger, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're new here, aren't you?" he said, his voice low, laced with a mixture of cynicism and curiosity. The younger guard nodded hesitantly, sensing that the conversation would veer into something unusual. "Then let me tell you something about the queen," the older man continued, lowering his voice to ensure their words wouldn't carry. "There was a time when a man—a brave and intelligent one—stepped into this palace, much like you. But unlike most, he wasn't just another soldier or nobleman; he was something far more exceptional."
The younger guard leaned in, captivated despite himself. "This man," the older guard said, his eyes narrowing as he recounted the tale, "was the kind who could outwit fifty soldiers in combat. He didn't rely on brute strength alone—no, he used his mind, his strategies. They say he once faced fifty armed men, and not only did he defeat them, but he did so without taking a single life, using their own mistakes against them."
The younger guard's brows furrowed, intrigued. "That's not all," the older guard continued, his tone tinged with both admiration and unease. "This man wasn't just a warrior; he was a thinker, a visionary. He helped the queen's forces plan battles that conquered countless cities. With his ideas, he turned defeat into victory, turning the tide of war in our favor. But it wasn't just war where he excelled—he had a knack for diplomacy too. He suggested ways to improve relations with neighboring kings, alliances that brought trade, wealth, and power. And when the queen had enemies, he devised ways to bring them down without ever lifting a sword."
The younger guard's expression grew wary. "So, he was a hero then?" he asked cautiously.
The older guard chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "A hero? Perhaps. But heroes have no place in this palace, my friend. They become pawns—or worse, prey. The queen saw his brilliance, his cunning, and she wanted it for herself. One day, she called him to her chambers, her voice dripping with honey. 'A man like you,' she said, 'deserves more than this life. You deserve to be a king.'" The older guard's eyes gleamed with bitter amusement. "And the man, foolish as he was, believed her. How could he not? The queen's words are a trap lined with gold—they lure you in before you even realize it."
The younger guard's throat tightened. "What happened to him?" he asked, already suspecting the answer but dreading it nonetheless.
"For two or three days," the older guard said, his voice lowering further, "he lived in luxury, treated like royalty. The queen showered him with praise, made him feel indispensable. But then, one morning, he was gone. Just... gone. No one knows where he went or what happened to him. Some say he was executed quietly; others whisper that he was transformed into one of her... creatures." The older guard shuddered at the thought, his face hardening. "What I do know is this: the man who once outwitted fifty soldiers vanished without a trace, as if he had never existed at all."
The younger guard swallowed hard, glancing nervously toward the palace looming ahead. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because," the older guard said grimly, "you need to understand the kind of woman you serve. The queen's brilliance is unmatched, yes, but so is her cruelty. She doesn't let anyone—no matter how valuable—outshine her. If she sees potential in you, be wary, for it may be the very thing that seals your fate. Remember, boy, this palace is not a sanctuary—it's a labyrinth. And very few find their way out."
The younger guard nodded slowly, the weight of the older guard's words settling heavily on his shoulders. They continued their march in silence, the palace gates drawing closer with every step. The younger guard couldn't help but glance at the boy they were escorting, wondering if he, too, would vanish into the queen's web of deception, never to be seen again.
The younger guard shifted uneasily, glancing at me as if weighing the truth of the story. Their hushed tones only deepened the pit forming in my stomach.
Their words sent a chill through me, but I didn't let it show. I kept my head high, my steps steady, even as my heart raced.