That day, in the early hours of the morning, the royal family and their advisors gathered around the grand table in the Sultan’s private chamber. The tension in the air was thick, a sense of anticipation hanging over them as they waited for the so-called "spirit expert," Kohran the Grim, to make his entrance. Aza shifted in his seat, looking curious yet slightly unnerved, while Bazzle sat beside him with his usual composed demeanor, offering a nod of encouragement to the Sultan and his daughter.

Nahra, however, sat back with a quiet, scrutinizing gaze. Her instincts whispered that something was amiss, and she couldn’t shake the suspicion that this entire ordeal was being exaggerated. Still, she kept her thoughts to herself, watching Kohran with a cool, unreadable expression.

Kohran strode into the chamber, a proud smirk on his face as he bowed to the Sultan. His cloak billowed behind him, decorated with strange talismans that jingled softly with each step. "Your Majesty," he began, "I regret to inform you that this spirit is… far more powerful than I initially anticipated. It is no mere haunting. This is an ancient entity, perhaps even a Fallen One."

The Sultan's brow furrowed, but he nodded solemnly. "And what do you propose, Kohran?"

Kohran's smirk grew. "I have summoned my elite crew, each an expert in their own field, to assist me in eradicating this powerful being." He turned and gestured to the door, where four figures entered, each distinct and intimidating in their own right.

The first to step forward was a tall, wiry man with piercing green eyes and an assortment of knives strapped to his belt. Kohran introduced him with a flourish. "This is Arian the Shade, an expert in shadow magic and stealth. He specializes in binding spirits, trapping them within a dark ether where they can be contained without escape."

Arian inclined his head, his eyes glinting with a sharp intelligence as he scanned the room, his gaze lingering on each person as if assessing them. His voice was low and smooth. "I’ll make sure this spirit never sees the light again."

Next was a woman with silver-streaked hair pulled back into a tight braid, her fingers adorned with rings bearing various gems. She held a staff in one hand, its top encircled with charms that seemed to glow faintly. "This is Maralyn the Whisperer," Kohran continued. "She is a spirit medium, capable of communicating with even the most malevolent of entities. Her talents will allow us to discern its intentions, perhaps even weaken it through negotiation."

Maralyn gave a polite nod to the Sultan and the others, her expression calm but calculating. "If the spirit is willing to negotiate, we may find a way to coax it into submission. But if it resists…" Her gaze grew colder. "Then we will handle it by other means."

The third figure, a brawny man with tattoos spiraling up his arms, wore a leather vest and held a large hammer across his shoulder. He grinned widely, exuding a rugged confidence. "And this is Dorek the Crusher," Kohran announced. "His specialty lies in physical strength and destruction magic, perfect for subduing spirits through sheer force if necessary."

Dorek cracked his knuckles, his voice booming. "I’ll smash it back to wherever it came from, Your Majesty. Spirits tend to get less fussy when they’re faced with a little brute strength."

Lastly, a quiet, unassuming man with a hooded cloak and thick glasses stepped forward, holding a small pouch from which faintly glowing powder trickled. Kohran gestured to him with reverence. "And this is Tarek the Weaver, our alchemist. He can craft potions and barriers that can weaken spiritual entities, allowing us to contain them or even dissolve them."

Tarek gave a curt nod, his gaze never lifting fully from the ground. "I’ve prepared a few barriers and repellents that should help contain the spirit, provided we find where it’s hiding."

The Sultan looked over the crew, his face still calm and composed. "Very well, Kohran. I shall allow your team to proceed."

Aza’s eyes narrowed, clearly surprised. "I didn’t expect the spirit to require such… intense measures," he murmured, glancing at Bazzle.

Bazzle leaned forward, his expression one of cautious optimism. "The Sultan’s wisdom in permitting this shows his dedication to safeguarding the palace. This team seems more than capable, Aza. I have full confidence in them."

Nahra, however, remained skeptical, her gaze flickering between the crew and Kohran. Something didn’t add up. She knew the tales Kohran spun often stretched the truth, and her instincts told her there was more to this than he was letting on. Still, she held her tongue, observing and waiting for her father’s lead.

Kohran bowed again, clearly enjoying the attention and the authority granted to him. "With the full power of my team," he boasted, "we will rid your palace of this spirit once and for all. No entity, no matter how ancient or powerful, can withstand our combined strength."

The Sultan inclined his head, acknowledging Kohran’s words. "Proceed as you deem fit, but be cautious. This palace holds many secrets, and I will not see it damaged."

Kohran straightened, a confident smirk still playing on his lips. "Understood, Your Majesty. We shall rid you of this nuisance and restore peace to your kingdom."

As Kohran and his team turned to leave, Nahra’s gaze followed them, her suspicion deepening. Whatever this so-called spirit was, she sensed that the true danger lay not in the entity itself, but in those who sought to claim power over it.

A few hours later, Nahra sat in her quiet chamber, the faint flicker of candlelight casting shadows along the walls. She had been trying to meditate, focusing on Malin and the journey he was on, willing her silent prayers to reach him across the vast desert. She wished for his safety, for his success, and perhaps, selfishly, that he would return to her.

Just as she closed her eyes, a subtle shift in the shadows caught her attention. She opened them slowly, watching as the darkness pooled and morphed at the edge of the room. Her breath caught in her throat as a shape began to take form, unfurling like smoke into something more tangible—a sleek, black figure with wings stretching out, a silent and powerful presence materializing before her.

The creature fully emerged, its dark fur blending into the shadows save for its piercing golden eyes that fixed intently on her. Nahra’s heartbeat quickened. This was the spirit—the very one that had left the advisor as a pool of olive oil, the one that Kohran and his crew had been summoned to track and banish. She felt a chill run down her spine, an instinctive fear bubbling up at the thought of its power.

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The cat tilted its head, those golden eyes unreadable. “Malin is safe,” it spoke in a voice both deep and resonant, almost comforting despite her fear. “He has nearly completed his adventure.”

A surge of relief mingled with her fear, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly. But she couldn’t shake the wariness in her heart. “Are you… are you the spirit we’ve been searching for?” she asked, her voice low, trying to keep the tremor from betraying her. “The one that turned the advisor to oil?”

The cat’s eyes glinted with a touch of amusement, its gaze steady on hers. “Yes,” it confirmed, unbothered by her apprehension. “But worry not, princess. I am not here to harm you. I am here to reassure you.”

Nahra swallowed, feeling her mouth go dry. “Why should I trust you? How do you know about Malin?” Her mind raced, caught between her desire to believe it and her fear of the unknown.

The cat’s voice softened, though it retained a solemn weight. “Worry not, child of this kingdom. I am not your enemy. I simply come bearing truths and messages from beyond.” It adjusted its posture, its wings folding neatly against its back, as if to appear less imposing.

The richness of its voice, respectful yet commanding, seemed to wrap around her like a warm cloak. “I would suggest you relax,” the cat said, its tone both patient and calm. “That way, we may have a pleasant conversation.”

Nahra hesitated, feeling the fear gradually ebbing away. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she met the gaze of the mysterious spirit.

Nahra steadied herself, her initial fear giving way to cautious curiosity. She regarded the winged black cat with an intense gaze, noting the way its golden eyes held a depth of knowledge that seemed beyond mortal understanding. This creature had emerged from the shadows to speak to her directly—there had to be a reason.

“Why are you here?” she asked, keeping her tone steady. “What is your purpose?”

The cat’s tail flicked slowly, its gaze unwavering. “I am here to protect you and the king,” it said, its voice a deep, velvety murmur that held an almost comforting authority.

Nahra’s brow furrowed. “Protect us? From what?”

“Demonic forces,” the cat replied, its voice barely above a whisper yet carrying an unmistakable weight. “They seek to corrupt and take control, to twist the kingdom into their dark vision. I am here to guard against that.”

The words sank in, chilling her to the core. She’d known of strange things happening lately, of growing shadows and unsettling presences. But to hear it spoken aloud, so plainly… it made everything feel alarmingly real.

“Is there more I should know?” she pressed, feeling an urgent need to understand the scope of the threat.

The cat’s gaze softened, though it shook its head slightly. “I have not been given permission to reveal more,” it answered calmly, a hint of regret in its tone. “The time is not yet right.”

Nahra bit her lip, a mixture of frustration and helplessness welling up in her. “Then why show yourself to me?” she asked. “Why now?”

The cat’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, its gaze piercing. “Soon, those who have been brought to eliminate me will find my trace. They will come for me, and I will be forced to dispatch them… one by one.” Its voice held a grim resolve, as though it had already accepted this fate. “I am warning you so that you may remain safe.”

Nahra nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of its words. “What should I do?”

“Stay in this room,” the cat instructed, its tone commanding but gentle. “Do not leave until morning. It is the only way I can ensure your safety.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “All right… but what about dinner? Will I be able to leave for that?”

The cat inclined its head. “Yes. After dinner tonight, return to this room immediately. Once inside, allow no one to enter—not a servant, not a guard. Trust nothing until the sun rises. This is your sanctuary.”

Nahra swallowed, absorbing the seriousness of its warning. She felt a strange comfort in the cat’s presence, despite her lingering fears. “I understand.”

The cat nodded approvingly, its eyes reflecting a hint of satisfaction. “Good,” it said, its voice a soothing rumble that resonated through her. Then, with a graceful sweep of its wings, it melted back into the shadows, leaving her alone in the quiet chamber once more.

For a moment, Nahra stared at the spot where it had vanished, her mind racing with questions and worries. But one thing was certain—she would heed its warning. Whatever this spirit was, it had chosen her, trusted her with this knowledge. And in the face of the unknown, she would do what she must to stay safe.

Later that night as the dinner progressed, the tension in the air was almost palpable. Plates clinked softly as everyone ate, but Nahra’s gaze drifted to the far side of the room where the spirit hunters were finishing their meal, checking their gear, and exchanging confident nods. She could feel the weight of the secret the black cat had shared with her—a knowledge that set her apart from the others around the table. She couldn’t shake the feeling of unease as she watched Aza, who was practically brimming with excitement at the thought of the spirit being “executed.”

“This will be a night to remember,” Aza remarked with a smug smile, his voice carrying across the table. “Finally, we’ll be rid of this troublesome spirit.”

Beside him, Bazzle was in his usual element, smirking and encouraging the hunters with casual, almost playful remarks. “Make sure you show that spirit who's boss,” he said, his tone dripping with false charm. “It’s been a nuisance for too long.”

The Sultan sat silently, seemingly absorbed in his meal, but his eyes flicked towards Nahra every so often, gauging her reaction. He was always watchful, and Nahra knew he was aware of more than he let on. Then, without warning, he slipped a small folded note across the table, just under her hand. She unfolded it cautiously, reading the words written in a firm, familiar hand: Did the spirit tell you to stay inside after dinner?

She looked up, meeting her father’s steady gaze, and gave a subtle nod. A quiet relief washed over his face, his shoulders loosening as he took a deep breath, as though reassured by her confirmation.

After a few moments, the Sultan cleared his throat, turning his attention to Aza and Bazzle. “Perhaps it would be best if everyone retired to their rooms tonight,” he said, his voice calm yet authoritative. “This will give the hunters the space they need to work without interference. After all, this is a matter best left to the professionals.”

Aza, caught off guard, paused mid-bite, but quickly nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty. That’s… quite wise.”

Bazzle grinned, raising his glass in a mock salute. “Yes, we wouldn’t want to get in their way, would we?” he said smoothly, his eyes flickering with his usual sly amusement.

The spirit hunters, overhearing the conversation, exchanged confident glances with one another. “Don’t worry, Your Majesty,” one of them called out with a grin, raising a fist in determination. “We’ll have this spirit handled before dawn. It won’t be haunting anyone after tonight.”

Their leader, a tall, scarred man with an air of arrogance, nodded along, adding, “We’ve never failed a mission yet. This spirit won’t be any different.”

With a final nod, the Sultan signalled for the end of the meal, and the royals and advisors excused themselves, leaving the hunters to their boastful confidence. Nahra cast one last look at the spirit hunters, her heart pounding with the knowledge of what would likely unfold. She couldn’t help but feel a mixture of pity and apprehension, knowing that they were about to face something far beyond their understanding.

As she and her father walked towards their respective chambers, the Sultan leaned in, whispering just loud enough for her to hear. “Stay vigilant, Nahra. Do as the spirit advised.”

Nahra nodded, her resolve hardening. She could only hope the spirit’s warnings were enough to keep them safe through the night, as she silently prayed for Malin and braced herself for what lay ahead.