As the Sultan finished recounting the story, his gaze remained fixed on Malin, observing the young man’s reaction. Malin’s mind spun, trying to process the weight of the task before him. The ancient city of Shar-Kesh—the site of his grandfather’s ultimate sacrifice—was lost to time, buried in the depths of the Desert of Mehmet, a place few returned from. They had sent entire armies, warriors of unparalleled strength, but none had succeeded or even survived in finding the Sword of Righteousness. A knot of fear twisted in Malin’s stomach.

“Why… why would you trust me to do this, Your Majesty?” Malin’s voice was tentative, his question laced with the faintest hint of doubt.

The Sultan’s eyes softened as he looked upon Malin. “Because, Malin, you have the backing of the Origin.”

Malin’s brow furrowed, a hundred more questions bubbling to his lips. “How… how do you know of the Origin?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

A small, mysterious smile tugged at the Sultan’s lips. “We have met, He and I. But that is a story for another day.” His tone left no room for further questions on the matter.

The Sultan straightened, his demeanor now that of a ruler imparting a mission of utmost importance. “Your path is clear, Malin. You must travel south, taking a ship to the port city of Laza-Farim. From there, you’ll cross the vast Kalkan Desert, reaching Carabesh, a city that lies between the desert and Farim Mountain. Once through the mountains, you’ll enter the Desert of Mehmet, where the ancient city of Shar-Kesh lies buried beneath its sands. You must find the Sword there and return by the end of the month.”

Malin nodded, absorbing the Sultan’s words and the daunting journey that lay ahead. He did the mental calculation. Twelve days south to Shar-Kesh without rest, twelve back if I push myself. He understood that any delay could cost him his life, his future, and the life he dreamed of with Nahra.

Sultan Amir watched him, then continued, “Now, before you depart, your mother is waiting for you in the lower floors of the palace. Go see her, and afterward, take your leave with my daughter. She deserves a farewell.”

Malin’s heart swelled with gratitude, and he opened his mouth to thank the Sultan, but before he could speak, the Sultan reached into his robes and produced a small knife, its handle bearing the emblem of the Kalkan Federation. Handing it to Malin, he held the young man’s hand, pressing a seal into his palm—a royal emblem bearing the Sultan’s seal.

“Keep this with you,” the Sultan said firmly, “and with it, my decree. I’ve written your name into the official registry. From now on, all provisions, shelter, and necessities are yours, by declaration of the Sultan, for the duration of your journey.”

Malin held the blade and seal with reverence, feeling the significance of the Sultan’s gesture. He met the Sultan’s gaze, his gratitude written plainly on his face.

Sultan Amir then stepped forward, placing his hand on the back of Malin’s head, pulling him closer in a gesture that was both paternal and deeply meaningful. His eyes bore into Malin’s, filled with a depth of emotion that spoke volumes. “For my daughter’s sake, Malin Osuninya, I hope you return with the Sword of Righteousness.” He paused, his voice lowering to a reverent tone. “May the Origin watch over you and protect you.”

Malin felt the Sultan’s strength and sincerity, the weight of his blessing like a shield around his heart. With a final nod, Sultan Amir released him, stepping back and allowing Malin to take his leave.

Straightening his shoulders, his heart heavy but resolved, Malin turned and exited the throne room, ready to begin his journey to fulfil a destiny he never could have imagined.

As Malin walked through the palace halls, his heart swelled with a mix of tension and pride. The Sultan’s approval and blessing weighed on him, but it also filled him with a newfound strength. He’d been given a purpose beyond anything he could have ever imagined, and the gravity of the task both terrified and emboldened him.

Turning a corner, Malin suddenly found himself face-to-face with Aza. For a moment, he expected hostility or perhaps a sneer, but instead, Aza’s expression softened into an amused smile. There was an odd respect in his gaze, though it was mixed with something else—a quiet certainty that Malin wouldn’t return from this journey.

“Well, Malin,” Aza said smoothly, his voice carrying that unmistakable air of superiority, “I can’t say I’ll wish you luck. But I do respect your will to take on this… daunting task.”

Malin’s eyebrows lifted, surprised at Aza’s words, but he kept his expression light, giving Aza a cocky grin. “Oh, don’t worry about wishing me luck, Aza. It’s not as if I’ll need it.” He winked, leaning casually against the wall. “I’m sure I’ll be back here, Sword in hand, long before you can start picking out wedding decorations.”

Aza’s smile tightened, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Confident, are we? Bold words from a baker,” he replied smoothly, his tone laced with subtle condescension. “But we’ll see if that charm of yours holds up when you’re facing the ruins of Shar-Kesh alone. I imagine it’s a bit different than sweet-talking customers in a shop.”

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Malin laughed, a casual, almost carefree sound, folding his arms as he met Aza’s gaze. “Oh, come now, Aza. I think I’ve already proven I’m more than just a baker. But hey, if you’re that eager to see me fail, you’d better be prepared for disappointment.”

Aza’s smile faltered, just a fraction, before he recovered, his voice cool and measured. “I’ll be waiting, Malin. One way or another.” He gave a polite nod, a silent acknowledgment that, despite his disdain, he respected the courage it took to undertake this mission. “I suppose we’ll see who ends up with the last word.”

Malin couldn’t help but chuckle, his confidence unfazed. “Indeed we will, Aza. Don’t get too comfortable on that throne, though. I’d hate to come back and find you’ve left it warm for me.”

With that, Aza’s smile thinned into a line, and he gave Malin a slight bow, a gesture that felt both mocking and begrudgingly respectful. “I’ll keep it ready for you, then,” he replied, his voice smooth as silk. Without another word, Aza turned and walked down the hall, his steps measured and deliberate.

Malin watched him go, feeling the tension melt away into a strange mix of satisfaction and amusement. He’d expected nothing but scorn from Aza, but to see him so rattled, even just slightly, was satisfying. With his head held high, Malin continued on his path, feeling a renewed determination as he made his way to see his mother.

He knew what he was walking into was dangerous, perhaps even hopeless. But if he was going to face it, he’d face it with every ounce of courage he had—both for Nahra and for himself.

Malin made his way down to the lower floors of the palace, his heart beating a little faster as he prepared to meet his mother. He knew she would be worried—terrified, even—and he could already imagine her anxious eyes, her hands clasped together as she waited for him.

As he entered the room, his mother looked up, her face lighting up with relief before clouding over again with concern. She took a step toward him, her hands trembling as she reached out. “Malin,” she murmured, pulling him into a tight embrace. “What is happening? They told me… they told me you’re going to find some ancient weapon? That you’re leaving the city?”

Malin gently squeezed her back, feeling the weight of her worry pressing into him. He stepped back, meeting her gaze and giving her a reassuring smile. “It’s true, Mother,” he said softly. “I have to find the Sword of Righteousness. The Sultan himself entrusted me with this task. But don’t worry. I’ll be back. I’ll come home safe—I promise.”

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears as she reached up to touch his face. “How can you promise that, Malin? You’re my only son… what will I do if something happens to you?”

Malin took her hands in his, his voice filled with the determination he hoped would ease her fears. “I know it sounds impossible, but I believe this is something I’m meant to do. I’m not just going for the Sultan or the kingdom, but for myself. And I’ll do everything I can to come back. I swear it.”

His mother sighed, finally managing a faint, teary smile. “You’ve always been stubborn, just like your father. Once you set your mind on something…” She trailed off, shaking her head again before wrapping him in another fierce embrace.

They held each other in silence for a few moments, Malin feeling the warmth of her love and worry surround him. It was a feeling he wished he could carry with him to Shar-Kesh, a shield against the dangers he knew awaited him. When they finally pulled back, he gave her one last, comforting smile, hoping it would be enough to ease her heart, if only a little.

Just as he turned to go, he noticed a familiar figure standing by the doorway—Maya, her arms crossed as she waited patiently. She raised an eyebrow, her usual playful smirk softened by a hint of empathy as she took in the sight of Malin and his mother. “Time to say goodbye, hero?” she asked, her voice a gentle tease but laced with understanding.

Malin nodded, turning to his mother one last time. “I’ll see you soon,” he promised. With one final squeeze of her hand, he walked over to Maya, who gave him a nod, motioning for him to follow.

“Ready?” she asked, her voice taking on a more serious tone as they made their way through the palace halls.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Malin replied, his thoughts already drifting to Nahra, knowing she was waiting for him. He steeled himself, preparing for one final farewell before embarking on the journey that lay ahead.

As Malin and Maya walked through the winding corridors of the palace, an air of quiet tension settled between them. Maya glanced over at him, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "So, hero," she said, her tone a mix of sarcasm and admiration. "Quite the entrance you made in the throne room. What were you thinking, barging in like that?"

Malin chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought back to the encounter. "Honestly? I wasn’t thinking much at all. Just that I couldn’t let Nahra… you know, get swept away by someone like Aza."

Maya rolled her eyes, a smirk forming as she nudged him with her elbow. "Well, I’ll give you points for bravery, at least. That’s more than most would’ve dared. Even if you might be a little insane."

Malin laughed, though the sound was tinged with nerves. "Insane, brave—who can tell the difference these days?" He paused, his voice lowering. "But this quest… it’s like nothing I’ve ever done. I barely know what I’m getting myself into. The Sword, the deserts, the ancient city… It feels like a dream."

Maya glanced at him, her expression softening. “Dream or not, you’re going. And that’s more than most would do. Just remember—you’ve got more people rooting for you than you think.” She gave his shoulder a light squeeze, her usual teasing replaced by a genuine warmth that surprised him.

They continued in silence until they reached the entrance to Nahra’s private chambers. Malin felt his heart hammer in his chest, and he took a deep breath, knowing this moment could be the last time he’d see her. The weight of that realization settled heavily over him, and for a moment, he hesitated.

Maya noticed, her voice gentle as she gave him an encouraging nod. “Go on. She’s been waiting.”

Malin nodded, steadying himself as he stepped forward. The reality of his quest, the unknown dangers, and the thought of leaving Nahra behind pressed down on him, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the moment. With one last, steadying breath, he prepared to enter, hoping his words would be enough to say goodbye.