A trail of brightly blue vapour stretched across the sky as the sun's rays illuminated the green hills and valleys below. He walked with a measured pace, conveying a sense of purpose with each step. The linen tunic cooled his body against the humid air, while beads of perspiration formed on his forehead and neck. Nevertheless, he pressed on before deciding to take a rest.

Finally, he leaned against the rough bark of a tree and took a swig from his goatskin pouch, draining the last of his water to quench his thirst. For a moment, he felt it was almost careless to admire the landscape around him, surveying his surroundings without worrying about potential threats.

The overhanging branches offered a sense of refuge, unexpectedly triggering a memory. Out of the corner of his mind’s eye, he saw his older sibling, whose legs propelled him off the ground with the speed of a gazelle. It pained him to remember how small and clumsy he had felt in comparison to him. His brother glanced back over his shoulder, teasing him, claiming that he was young and foolish and would never catch up. But that was a long time ago; since then, he had grown strong.

He pushed himself away from the tree, aware of the dangers of dwelling in the past. Standing alone in simple attire, he showed no signs of arrogance, yet he was a man who naturally commanded respect, his reputation forged through his prowess in battle, defeating enemies with a single, powerful blow.

A slight breeze passed over the stranger, urging him to complete his journey.

His name was Djin, and his unblinking gaze fueled speculation that he was half beast. This rumor delighted Djin, as he understood the people used him as a myth to scare children into sleep while also fearing him.

He was a killer—a slayer, a murderer without remorse—who, for the right price, could swiftly eliminate the enemy with a stroke of his sword. His talent required both skill and speed, and when the elite contacted him for political reasons, the reward was high, so he accepted naturally.

He was the first to notice her. Every movement was purposeful, reflecting her ability to flow seamlessly with the elements. one of her bare feet lifted while the other remained planted on the ground. A delicate beige dress embroided in silk cascaded down to her feet, tracing the curves of her body.

She moved in slow circles, her arms extended gracefully. Even from a distance, her amethyst eyes seemed to anticipate his every move. She radiated an energy that transcended her natural beauty. Without uttering a word, her subtle actions captivated Djin, drawing him into her world with a controlled and calculated grace.

Djin felt the twilight was a false accomplice, and this night’s beauty was more aware of him than she let on.

Her body moved to a soundless beat, as if her bones were not summoning her skin to dance but rather a higher order was infiltrating the essence of her soul.

Djin began to shadow her, like a preying wolf following a scent. The temptress sensed his pursuit, lifted her flowing dress to her knees, and started to run barefoot. Djin was ensnared. He had never believed that a woman could break through the silence of his being. He was unaware that a woman could make him feel self-conscious by stirring his blood.

Gliding through the forest, did not break her stride, allowing the wind to aid her escape toward the desecrated ruin of a community that once thrived there. The chilly air served as a harsh reminder of the slaughter that had taken place in battle many years ago. Finally, she arrived at the unsafe, winding stairs of the ravaged building, which hung heavy with the musty smell of the past.

Her name was Zaria, and she belonged to the world order of royalty. Like Djin, she exuded confidence and was able to navigate this ruin well. Had she once lived here? Djin wondered as he followed. Did the air once smell of sandalwood and musk in a time gone?

Djin suddenly realised that his journey was nearing its end. Although victory seemed certain, a sense of tragedy loomed over the night, and he couldn't quite explain where this feeling was coming from. His breath became laboured and almost pained in the quiet darkness.

There was an abrupt stumble, followed by a thump as she hit the ground. Had she fallen? He was cautious with every movement, knowing that if he took another step toward her, she would run away. Even in the twilight, Djin could see that she was not a prisoner of her own body. Her legs were lean, her shoulders were strong, and her waist was slender. A warm musk emanated from her, drawing him closer as she rose from her fall. Now, he stood just a foot away, each of them communicating in silence.

She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, pressing herself against the corner of the wall. There was no escape. Djin moved closer, aware that no battle could rival the fear churning inside him now. He could sense her breath; the atmosphere around them felt electric.

The waning moonlight streamed through the arched windows, illuminating the scene as the Zaria piercing gaze locked onto Djin's. Their eyes met as she skillfully untied the lace ribbon of her dress, allowing it to fall around her feet.

Djin stood under the light, unable to utter a single word, her face appearing ghostly. His eyes were drawn to the pale glow that illuminated her chest. A twisting mollusk-like growth covered her skin, forming a wavy line from her navel to her chest. This affliction marked her flesh, resembling an unsettling growth. Even in the dim light, he could see that the disease spread like wildfire across her body.

The night was illuminated by the Princess's smile, rich with knowing, as she took with her all its secrets, granting permission for the stranger to see. Her face showed no signs of pain. Her beauty enveloped her like crepe paper lamps designed to guard against evil spirits. Could this illness not be dismissed, as deformed children sometimes were? Djin clenched his fists. How dare she mock him? Through her smile, she revealed what nature had bestowed upon her. Her illness was carried with the same grace as her royal demeanor. There was no shame, no fear of how it might spread and tarnish her.

One day, she too would become decrepit, but not like those old men who wandered the roads with broken bodies; they were forgotten because their words had become mere mumblings and spittle. Their hunched frames clawed at long shadows that seemed to swallow the light.

Djin knew this figure recognised her identity. She understood that everything is fleeting. In that brief moment, he realised she was laughing, marking his weakness, his stain by exposing it. This angered him. It was not she who was dying.

The warrior fell to his knees, letting out a whimper that only the night could hear. The temptress became aware of his despair and, with the same purpose that had brought her in, gathered her shawl and rushed out.

As Djin exited the ruin, early light broke on the horizon. He felt a surge of freedom coursing through his limbs, a sensation that comes only from silence. A vast emptiness filled the sky and now filled him.