Mariam had always known the weight of chains. They weren't just cold, unyielding iron that wrapped around her wrists—they were a constant reminder of the life she was forced to endure. The life that had been stolen from her. A life where she had no name, no purpose, no power. Just a slave, a mere tool to be used and discarded when the whims of her masters shifted.

But even chains had their limits.

Tonight, as the moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale silver light on the stone walls of the palace, Mariam's heart beat with an unfamiliar rhythm—one of defiance. She was no longer the frightened girl who once begged for mercy. She was someone else now. Someone who knew the taste of vengeance, who saw the cracks in the world and knew how to exploit them.

"Tonight, everything changes," she whispered to herself, fingers grazing the chain that bound her. It was more than just a symbol of her past; it was the key to her future. And she would break it.

A faint sound broke the silence—the soft creak of a door. Her heart skipped a beat. Hassan. She had never seen his face fully, only glimpsed the silver streaks in his dark hair, the coldness in his blue eyes that never seemed to soften. He was a mystery, an enigma—one that had been tangled with her own fate from the very beginning.

"You've been quiet," he said, his voice low and steady, carrying an edge of something unreadable. "Plotting, or simply waiting?"

Mariam didn't answer immediately. She wasn't sure if she wanted him to know the truth just yet. But there was no point in hiding anymore. "Waiting," she said, her lips curling into a sly grin. "Waiting for the right moment. And that moment is now."

Hassan's eyes narrowed. He studied her with a quiet intensity, as if weighing her every word, her every gesture. Then, in a movement too swift for her to fully grasp, he was beside her. His hand brushed against the chains, his touch like fire. "Then let us see if your moment has come."