In the name of Shah

The surface slept in the ever-peaceful moonlight, but the sea roared with cheers, gasps, and some curses. The arena shined brighter than the sun as Shah Rahmat Ullah watched his two sons fight each other for hours with their long spears. Finally, the eldest prince won, and after much cheer, the arena, for a moment, fell silent. A whale's cry trembled everyone’s ear, and a spear shot from the sky like the wrath of gods. Soon a man draped in black appeared beside it. He wore a blue mask with increate golden markings. He looked at him sitting in his royal chamber. Despite his wife's protests, he grabbed his spear and jumped.

“What do you desire, thief?” he asked as he landed before him.

“I come with my spear. Would you come near and taste the fear.”

The princes cursed the man and appealed to him to send them as his champions for the duel. His royal robes and thobe weighed heavy on his brittle feat. His bones ached, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. But a Shah never fears a fight.

“What a thief would get from duelling a Shah?” he said.

The man scoffed. “When have I stolen anything?”

"What do you desire then?"

"If I win, you have to do something I command."

"Agreed! But if I'm the victor, you'll be arrested... without any resistance."

The man nodded and made a swift jab. He erected an ice wall and blocked it.

“You trespass in the cursed pyramids of the Lanties," he said. "They oppressed us for years with their unholy machines and potions. Don’t tell me you haven’t stolen anything from there?”

The man pulled back and melted the wall.

“Your weapon is the clear evidence.” He stabbed the ground, and an elephant of water erupted from it. It whipped its trunk, but the man doughed it. He zipped here and there to avoid its stomps. He scoffed, but in between, he chuckled and even laughed as though it was a sport Another person also took pleasure in such danger, but Rahmat shuddered at the thought.

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The man’s spear whirled, and the elephant vanished in a hurricane.

“I recognize that the jewels in your spear are from the lands of Enids,” said the man. “Whose people lack food. Have you seen the forest of corpses, or were you too busy having your spear inscribed with their spells?”

“The Enids betrayed us in the second age. We are no longer their protectors.”

“Their children cough every second. They should not be punished because of the past.”

He flew and threw his spear. Rahmat erected a wall, but the man vanished. He appeared behind him and bashed him against the ice wall. “How many more will die because of what happened in the past?” Rahmat melted the wall, gasped and erected another one.

“We must honour the choices of our ancestors."

“Did our ancestors not want us to learn and grow? Or they wanted all of us to die?” The man shot a furry of slashes at him as he hid behind his ice wall. Only one another could channel his anger into his spear like this: his youngest son, Amir. His hands ached, and his vision darkened. He cannot fight like this for long; his heart won't allow it. He grabbed his spear and scattered the ice wall into splinters, throwing the man away. He coughed until blood came out. He locked eyes with him. “Then they should’ve never betrayed us!” He slashed his spear and trapped the man in a ball of water.

“It matters none,” the man whispered. “They still feel hungry. Their bones still ache. They don’t even have the power to stand. Help shouldn’t be for only those on which the gods force us.” His eyes numbed, and pain dripped from them. Rahmat winced and looked away. What have you done, Amir?

“You are telling me to defy the gods?” he said.

“The gods understand us. They know when someone suffers.”

“No.”

The man’s eyes burned with rage. He cried like a whale that tore everyone’s ear. The sea itself trembled, and all the creatures suffered his agony. Rahmat stumbled and covered his ears. His prison faded away, and the man floated outside. He’s not my son! Rahmat stretched out his hand and felt the beat of his heart and the blood running through his veins. The man kneeled, and his eyes bulged out. A tear ran down Rahmat’s face. He’s not my son! He stepped forward, and the man choked on his own blood. He’s not my son! The man’s fingers twisted. He’s not my— Agh! He looked away, and the man fell.

“Do you wield?” he asked.

The man nodded.

“Good.”

“I just have one request.”

“What?”

He took out a green berry. “It’s a cure… for your disease.”

“Does it come from the pyramids?”

The man dragged himself up. “I never intended to hurt you. I only went there to seek their knowledge of medicine.”

“The same knowledge they used to oppress us?”

“Yes, but… I mean, no, but— it can be used for good. Do not be a victim of the past, Shah.”

“I respect the gesture, but I must decline. Their knowledge is unholy.”

Rahmat took a deep breath and picked up his spear. He looked at his chamber, ready to jump.

“Father, please,” came Amir’s voice. A gasp spread through the crowd like wildfire, especially from the lady’s section.

Rahmat winced his eyes and clutched. “Is this what I taught you?”

“Please, father, your life matters more than the past.”

“Guards! Arrest him!”

They pinned Amir to the ground, and his berry fell. It rolled forward, and Rahmat picked it up.

A thin layer of ice colonized the walls of the prince’s cell. At least he didn't have to hear his father cough and his mother cry for his health, but only the thought of it pained him. A snake slipped into his cell, his first thought was to back up, but the thought of death calmed him, so he sat still. The snake left a note and then went away. The prince opened it.

It tasted good with some tea.