The first light of dawn filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, yet Noor remained unmoved. The bed, untouched, seemed as if it had never been slept in, a mere illusion of comfort amidst the storm that raged inside her. She sat at the edge, her back straight, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Her eyes were fixed on the window, but her mind was elsewhere—lost in the chaos of the night that had passed and the darkness that continued to threaten her existence.
She felt it before she heard the footsteps—an oppressive weight in the air, a presence that lingered like a shadow creeping across her soul. The door creaked open, and Maya entered, her eyes immediately searching for any sign of Noor. The silence between them spoke volumes; neither of them needed words to understand the torment Noor carried.
"Lady Noor," Maya's voice was soft, cautious, as if testing the waters of a sea that had become far too treacherous to navigate. "You're bleeding." Her eyes flickered to the crimson streaks staining Noor's clothes, the blood that had dried too quickly, too deeply.
Noor's gaze didn't shift. Her voice was low, strained with a tension that could snap any moment. "The blood is mine, Maya." There was a dark humor in her words, an emptiness that echoed through the room. "But it doesn't matter, does it? Blood is blood. A reminder that nothing is ever enough."
Maya stepped closer, her hands trembling as she reached out, but stopped short. She could see the walls Noor had built around herself, the coldness that bled from her every word and movement. It wasn't just the physical wounds, though they were severe. It was the emotional scar that festered beneath the surface—the one that had always been there, always threatening to consume her.
"Lady Noor, you don't have to carry all of this alone," Maya said, her voice quivering with unshed tears. "We're here. We're with you."
Noor's eyes flickered, for just a moment, to Maya's face. There was nothing but emptiness there, a void so deep that it felt as though nothing—no words, no comfort—could fill it.
"They follow me because they think I'm a beacon," Noor whispered bitterly, more to herself than to Maya. "A beacon of strength, of power. But I am no beacon. I am a flame that will burn everything down. There's nothing left of me but ashes."
Maya took a step forward, Noor's voice tearing at her heart. "That's not true," she said fiercely. "You've given everything. For the children, for us. You're the reason we survive. Without you, there would be nothing."
Noor finally turned her gaze to Maya, her eyes cold, lifeless. "Survive? Is that all we're doing? Surviving?" Her voice cracked, the weight of her own bitterness suffocating her. "I've survived my entire life by killing parts of myself—by stripping away every piece that could feel, that could hope, that could dream." She stood up abruptly, her movements sharp, her body tense. "Do you know what it feels like, Maya? To fight every day, to win every battle, only to realize that you're still nothing? You've only grown stronger in the eyes of those who worship you, while inside, you're falling apart, piece by piece."
Maya opened her mouth, but no words came. She had seen Noor like this before—lost, consumed by a darkness that swallowed her whole—but never so raw, so vulnerable. The strength that Noor exuded on the outside only amplified the pain that wracked her from the inside. It was as if the power she commanded had become her prison, not her weapon. It was a strength she could never escape.
"You think I can't feel it?" Noor continued, her voice shaking with a fury that threatened to tear her apart. "The weight of their expectations, the weight of my own. I am everything they need me to be—everything they demand me to be—and in the process, I've forgotten what it's like to be human."
She moved away from Maya, pacing the room, her footsteps echoing in the silence. "I'm drowning in this , Maya. Drowning in the lies I've told myself. I'm a monster. A weapon forged by the hands of those who saw potential in my suffering. But the cost..." She paused, the words choking in her throat, the reality of what she was admitting too much to bear. "The cost is my soul. And it is slipping away, piece by piece."
Maya watched her, helpless, her heart aching for the woman who had saved her, who had given her a life she never thought possible. But now, that very woman was standing on the edge, torn between the darkness inside and the slivers of light that still fought to reach her.
A long silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Finally, Maya spoke, her voice soft but filled with a quiet determination. "You're not alone in this, Noor. You never were."
But Noor didn't hear her. Her mind was too far gone, spiraling into the abyss she had been teetering on for so long. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in on her, and she could no longer distinguish between the truth and the lies that had become her reality.
"I've lost or perhaps I'm lost," Noor whispered, more to herself than to Maya. "And I'll keep losing. Until there's nothing left."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence, and Maya knew then that the battle Noor was fighting a battle to survive her own mind, her own soul.
"Please," Maya said, stepping forward with tears now freely streaming down her face. "Stay with us."
Noor didn't respond. Instead, she walked to the window, her back turned to Maya, her silhouette framed by the early light. The rays of the sun filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows on the floor, but Noor felt none of its warmth. There was no solace in the light. No peace in the silence.
Noor said, her voice breaking. "I'm already lost."
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Maya stood at the door, her heart beating erratically as she watched Noor, standing tall by the window. The first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting an ethereal glow on her face, but Noor remained unmoved, her eyes distant and cold.
"Madam" Maya's voice trembled, barely breaking the silence. She wasn't sure how to approach, how to reach her. The woman who had always been a pillar of strength, who commanded respect with a single glance, was now something unrecognizable.
Noor didn't turn. Her gaze remained locked on the horizon, her hands folded with a practiced grace. "You should leave, Maya," she said, her voice colder than the morning air. "There's nothing here for you."
Maya swallowed hard, her throat constricting at the finality in her words. She had never heard Noor sound so detached, so empty. "I won't leave," Maya replied, her voice firm, but her insides churned.
Noor let out a small, humorless laugh, still not looking at her. "You never learn, do you? There's nothing left to fight for. You think this—" she gestured around them, her voice sharp like broken glass, "—this hollow victory."
Maya stepped closer, her heart aching with every word that fell from Noor's lips. "You're not a.... You're not just—"
"Don't." Noor cut her off, her tone cold and measured. She finally turned to face Maya, her eyes void of the warmth they once held. "You think I don't know what you're trying to do Maya. There's no saving someone who doesn't want saving."
The harshness of Noor's words hit Maya like a physical blow, but she stood her ground. "I don't believe that. I believe you're lost, but I also believe you can find your way back. We can find our way back."
Noor's lips curled into a bitter, knowing smile. "You're a fool if you think that." She took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and Maya felt her pulse quicken. "You think I don't know what I am? this power... it's all just a prison. A cold cage built from the blood of those I've destroyed." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "And you think I'll find redemption in that?"
Maya's heart twisted, but she refused to break. "You're not the sum of your mistakes, . You're more than that."
Noor's laugh was short and harsh, the sound jagged like shards of glass scraping against stone. "Maya, I don't feel. I command. I control. That's all I am ."
Maya's eyes burned with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. "I know you feel, Madam I know you're still in there. I see you."
Noor's eyes flickered, something cold and dark flashing beneath her gaze. "You don't see me," she whispered, her voice low and almost dangerous. "You think you know me, but you don't."
Maya stepped closer, her voice soft but unwavering. "I do know you..I... And I won't leave."
Noor's eyes bored into hers, calculating, assessing, as if weighing her words like precious metal. "Maya,Sometimes, the kindest thing you can do is to leave people to their own fate, rather than waste your time on those who never deserved your compassion."
Maya's breath caught. She felt the weight of Noor's words—so heavy, so final—but she couldn't stop herself from speaking. "I don't understand that but .. I... I know that I'm not going anywhere. I'm here. And I'll stand by you. Even if it means being buried in the darkness with you."
Noor stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to gauge.Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she stepped back, the cold mask of indifference returning to her face. "Then you're a fool. A blind fool." She looked at Maya with those calculating eyes, the hardness in her gaze making Maya feel as if she were being sized up, judged. "But that's your choice. Just remember this—when the storm comes, you'll be caught in it too."
Maya stood there, heart pounding, but her resolve unwavering. "I'll face it with you," she said quietly, the words filled with a strength she didn't even know she had. "Whatever comes."
For a brief moment, something flickered in Noor's eyes—a flash of the woman Maya once knew—but it was gone before it could be grasped. Noor's expression hardened, and she turned away, her back once again to Maya. "Then stay," she said coldly, her voice a command. "But do not mistake this for something it is not. I am no longer the woman you once knew.."
Maya didn't answer right away. She simply watched Noor's retreating figure, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. But there was a spark within her—a flicker of hope, however small—that refused to die. Noor may have buried her heart in the dark, but Maya would be there, digging through the rubble, trying to bring it back to the light.
Noor's voice was barely a whisper, more to herself than anyone else. "I've walked this path a thousand times, Maya, a thousand times and yet, I am never there. The flicker , a glimpse in the shadows. Each timw I start, each time it end, all for one—just one moment when the one soul recognizes mine."
Her eyes were distant, lost in memories that only she could feel. "Do you understand, Maya? It's not the power, not the fame, not the battles I fight. Everything, every single moment..none of this... none of me... matters."
She took a long breath, as though inhaling the weight of a thousand years. "I will never stop searching, never stop fighting.
Her gaze turned cold, her voice sharp but hollow, "And when I can no longer bear the weight of it, when the cycle ends again, I will simply begin again... until I find what's lost."
Maya stood there, her lips parted, unable to grasp the weight of Noor's words. All she could do was stand silently, caught in the whirlpool of her devotion.
--------------
The sun had not yet risen, but Noor stood alone in the training grounds, her silhouette a dark figure against the lingering shadows. The air was thick with silence—only the soft hum of the earth beneath her feet, the murmurs of the night clinging to the corners of her mind. The scent of wet stone and damp earth mingled with the haunting remnants of her own blood, spilled in battles long past. But today, it was not enough.
Today, the fight was not against mere opponents. Today, it was against herself.
She raised her hand to the air, the motion slow, deliberate—almost ritualistic. Her fingers stretched as if they were reaching for something unseen, something ancient. The wind responded, whispering through the trees, the scent of far-off rain creeping into her senses. Her breath caught in her throat, and then it began—this dance as old as the world itself.
Each movement was a stroke of anguish. Her body rippled with the grace of a predator, each step as soft and deadly as a shadow that stretches just before the dawn. The world, still and silent, seemed to hold its breath as she moved—fluid, graceful, terrifying. Her feet glided across the ground, not walking but floating, as though she were a ghost among the living, her every motion a promise of doom.
The first strike was like a whisper of wind, slicing through the air with a sharp, merciless edge. A blade appeared in her hand, as if summoned by the very darkness that clung to her skin, its gleaming steel dancing in the faint light of the dying night. Noor's body twisted, her limbs flowing in an eerie rhythm, as if the ground beneath her feet were a stage, and she, the queen of a forgotten symphony. Every movement was a perfect stroke of agony, a seamless blend of brutality and elegance.
"She's not fighting," Zeyla whispered, her voice trembling. "She's… performing."
And it was true. Noor did not fight as one would expect. Her strikes were not born of rage, nor were they fueled by the hunger for victory. They were born of something far darker—an ancient pain that twisted through her very core, a sorrow that had seeped into her bones like poison. Every strike was like a cry from the depths of her soul, each movement a plea for release that would never come.
The way her body arched, her limbs moving with a fluidity that defied the laws of physics—she was like a specter of death, gliding through the air, each step like a gentle caress of the inevitable. But there was nothing gentle about her—nothing soft. The rhythm of her movements told a story of relentless suffering, of a soul caught in an eternal loop of torment.
She spun, the blade in her hand flashing like a comet streaking through the sky, leaving behind a trail of terror in its wake. Her every move was a memory—an echo of battles fought, of loves lost, of promises broken. She was the embodiment of every sorrow she had ever known, and she danced with it, embraced it, as if it were her lover.
"She is cursed," Maya thought, her heart heavy with the understanding that had blossomed in her chest. "Cursed to carry the weight of a love lost in time, cursed to fight the ghosts of past, cursed to bleed for something she cannot change."
And then, as if the earth itself responded to her anguish, the ground trembled.
Noor's movements became more frantic, more violent. The dance, once so graceful, now carried the raw edge of a storm. Her hair whipped around her face, a dark cloud that seemed to consume everything in its path. She moved faster now, each strike more forceful, her body twisting and turning in impossible angles, her eyes wide and empty, lost to the whirlwind within her.
"You will never escape me," the ghost of a voice whispered in her mind, a voice she had heard too many times. "I will haunt you forever."
With a savage roar, Noor's sword cleaved through the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. The ground beneath her feet cracked, the sky above darkened, as if the heavens themselves were witness to this dark ritual.
Maya watched, her chest tightening as she felt the weight of Noor's torment, the sorrow that seeped into the very air. It was as if Noor had become one with the darkness that clung to her—her movements were no longer human. They were something older, something more primal.
Zeyla, her voice barely a whisper, stepped forward, her heart heavy with a fear she could not explain. "She's… she's the embodiment of sorrow. A storm unleashed from within."
Noor's body moved in a perfect arc, the blade flashing in a deadly dance of death. But this was no fight—this was a symphony of destruction. Her foot landed softly, silently on the ground, but the force behind it was enough to shake the very air around her. Every strike, every cut, every slash was a stroke of exquisite torment, a ballet of pain that only she could understand.
As the final move approached, Noor's body twisted, her form a blur of shadow and light, the blade raised high above her head. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for the death she would bring. And then—she plunged the blade into the earth, the ground shattering beneath her. The echo of the impact resounded for miles, a sound so deep, so ancient, it seemed to come from the very heart of the world.
The silence that followed was deafening. Noor stood still, her chest heaving, her eyes empty, her body drenched in the sweat of a battle only she understood.
And yet, as the light of the new day began to creep across the horizon, there was no peace.
"I am still here," Noor whispered, as if speaking to someone only she could see. "I will always be here."
And somewhere far away, Sanlang stirred in his sleep, his chest heavy, his mind clouded with an ache he could not explain.
Sanlang gasped awake, his body burning, slick with sweat. His breath came in sharp, uneven pants, his mind spinning with flashes of memories that didn't make sense.
A cold, dark alley. Shackles around his wrists. The sickening stench of blood and filth. Then—a cloudy face of a woman he feels so familiar with but can't recognise,standing there like a goddess of the underworld, dressed in black silk, her sword dripping with someone's life. The way she had looked at him, as if he belonged to her, as if she had claimed him.
Then another memory struck him—her in the moonlight, playing the flute, her hair cascading down her back, her lips barely parted, her eyes closed as if lost in another world. He could almost smell her, the faint scent of jasmine and steel.
He groaned, his body reacting violently to the onslaught of emotions and desires that he could no longer suppress. His fists clenched the sheets as he gritted his teeth. "Damn it."
He shifted uncomfortably—and then froze.
A very distinct, very unignorable problem had risen under the blanket.
Before he could even begin to compose himself, the door swung open.
"Mr.Sanlang, are you—"
Ms. Li.
Sanlang's life flashed before his eyes as the young woman's sharp gaze immediately zeroed in on the rather obvious tent under his blanket.
There was a long, excruciating silence.
Sanlang didn't dare move. Maybe, just maybe, if he stayed perfectly still, she would turn around and leave, and they could both pretend this never happened.
No such luck.
Ms. Li raised a perfectly unimpressed brow. "Well, well. Someone had a very good dream."
Sanlang groaned, throwing his arm over his face. "Get out."
She ignored him, stepping further into the room, her arms crossed. "You look like you're about to ....huhh...combust. Maybe you should do something about it before you start a fire in those sheets."
Sanlang barely lifted his head, shooting her a glare. "What do you want. Li?"
She smirked. "Oh, nothing. Just making sure my dear employer isn't dying of some mysterious fever. But clearly, it's not illness you're suffering from."
Sanlang clenched his jaw, his mind still half-trapped in the fog of desire. He wanted to be furious, but the ache in his body—his very specific ache—made it hard to focus on anything but her. Noor. Noor. Noor.
Ms. Li wasn't done. "You know, there's a lovely brothel down the street. Very discreet. Very professional. They can help you… sort out yourrrr..... problem..."
Sanlang sat up so fast that his blanket nearly slipped. "I am not going to a brothel!"
Ms. Li shrugged. "Suit yourself. But unless you're planning to do something about this…" She gestured vaguely at his lap. "You might want to take a very, very cold shower before breakfast. Wouldn't want the staff to think their beloved Mr. Sanlang has become a pervert overnight."
Sanlang groaned again, falling back onto his pillows, his hands dragging down his face. "Leave. Me. Alone."
She chuckled. "Fine, fine. But seriously, Sanlang—" She paused at the door, smirking. "If Noor's got you this wound up, you might as well just admit it and do something about it."
And with that, she shut the door behind her, leaving Sanlang alone with his thoughts, his burning body, and the one name echoing in his head.
Noor.