The desert wind picked up, swirling around the Berber encampment as Rashid led his army toward the border of Sheikh Faris’s territory. The tension in the air was thick, and the soldiers marched in near silence, their focus set on the impending confrontation.

Rashid rode at the front, his expression hard. His mind churned with thoughts of the Eternal Flame’s warning and the delicate balance he was forced to maintain between power and restraint. The visions from the night before still haunted him, the shadowy figure looming in his thoughts like a harbinger of something darker to come.

Safiya rode up beside him, her voice soft. “You seem troubled.”

Rashid didn’t answer immediately, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Finally, he spoke. “The Flame is restless. It’s warning me… showing me things I don’t fully understand.”

Safiya’s brow furrowed in concern. “What kind of things?”

“Destruction. Death. I see myself standing over a battlefield of corpses, and there’s… something else. A figure, cloaked in darkness. I can’t shake the feeling that whatever it is, it’s tied to the Flame.”

Safiya’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before she spoke. “The Flame is a gift, Rashid, but it’s also a burden. If these visions are a warning, then perhaps the Flame is trying to protect you. Don’t let it consume you.”

Rashid nodded, though the weight of her words did little to ease his mind. He could feel the power of the Eternal Flame growing stronger with each passing day, and with it, the temptation to wield it more freely. But he knew that doing so could lead to ruin—for himself and for those he sought to protect.

As the Berber forces approached Sheikh Faris’s camp, Rashid ordered a halt. His army spread out across the dunes, forming ranks in preparation for whatever came next. Faris’s camp was heavily fortified, with armed guards stationed at every corner. It was clear that the sheikh had anticipated trouble.

Rashid dismounted, his gaze sharp as he turned to Malik and Safiya. “We’ll give him one last chance to join us. If he refuses, we attack.”

Malik nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Understood. But I don’t trust him, Rashid. Faris has already aligned with the Spanish. He’s just stalling for time.”

“I know,” Rashid replied, his voice low. “But we need to be certain before we move.”

With that, Rashid and a small delegation—including Safiya and Malik—advanced toward the camp. As they neared the gates, a group of Faris’s men stepped forward, weapons in hand. One of them, a tall, scarred warrior, raised a hand to stop them.

“The sheikh is not seeing visitors,” the warrior said, his tone flat.

Rashid’s eyes narrowed. “He’ll see us, or we’ll make sure this camp burns by nightfall.”

The warrior hesitated for a moment before nodding and disappearing into the camp. Moments later, the gates opened, and Rashid’s group was escorted inside.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Sheikh Faris sat in his large, lavish tent, his face betraying no emotion as Rashid and his delegation entered. His men stood guard along the walls, their eyes trained on Rashid’s every move.

“Prince Rashid,” Faris greeted, his tone diplomatic but lacking warmth. “You’ve come a long way. I trust you bring good news.”

Rashid didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “I’ve come for your decision, Faris. Will you return to the alliance, or have you truly chosen to betray your people for Spain?”

Faris’s lips curled into a slight smile. “Betrayal is such a strong word. I prefer to think of it as self-preservation. Morocco is crumbling, Rashid. Spain offers stability. Protection. A future.”

“A future under foreign rule,” Rashid spat. “Spain doesn’t care about you or your tribe. They’re using you to weaken Morocco, and once they’ve taken what they want, they’ll leave you with nothing.”

Faris’s expression hardened. “Perhaps. But I have to think of my people. If Morocco falls, we fall with it. Spain has made me an offer I can’t refuse. My tribe will survive, no matter who sits on the throne.”

Rashid’s fists clenched at his sides, the Eternal Flame flickering within him, urging him to act. But he forced himself to remain calm. “There’s still time to change your mind. Join us, and we can drive the Spanish out of our lands together.”

Faris stood, his eyes cold. “I’ve made my choice, Rashid. And if you stand against me, you will fall.”

Rashid felt the temperature in the room rise as the Eternal Flame surged within him. His patience had run out. “Then so be it.”

The moment Rashid and his delegation exited the camp, Malik signaled the Berber forces to prepare for an attack. Rashid’s heart raced, the power of the Eternal Flame coursing through his veins. He had given Faris his chance, and now the sheikh had sealed his fate.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Rashid raised his hand, signaling the advance. The Berber warriors charged toward the camp, their battle cries echoing across the desert. Arrows flew through the air, and the clash of steel rang out as Rashid’s forces collided with Faris’s men.

Rashid led the charge, his sword flashing in the fading light as he cut down enemy soldiers. The Eternal Flame burned within him, lending him strength and speed beyond that of any ordinary warrior. He moved through the battlefield like a force of nature, his every strike precise and deadly.

Malik fought by his side, a whirlwind of fury as he tore through the enemy ranks. Safiya, too, was a blur of motion, her twin blades slicing through the air as she dispatched any who dared approach her.

The battle raged on, the camp quickly descending into chaos. Fires broke out as tents were set ablaze, and the air was thick with the scent of blood and smoke.

As Rashid fought his way through the camp, he spotted Sheikh Faris, surrounded by his personal guard. The sheikh’s face was twisted in fury as he realized his forces were losing ground.

Rashid strode toward him, his sword raised. “It ends here, Faris.”

Faris’s eyes blazed with defiance. “You think you can defeat me, boy? I’ve survived more battles than you can imagine.”

“You’ve survived,” Rashid replied coldly, “but you won’t survive this.”

With a roar, Faris drew his sword and charged at Rashid. The two clashed in a flurry of steel, their swords ringing out as they fought. Faris was skilled, but Rashid was faster, his movements fueled by the power of the Flame.

The battle was over in moments. Rashid disarmed Faris with a swift strike, sending the sheikh’s sword flying from his hand. Faris fell to his knees, panting heavily as he looked up at Rashid with a mix of anger and fear.

“Spare me,” Faris gasped. “I can still be of use.”

Rashid’s eyes burned with the light of the Eternal Flame as he stared down at the defeated sheikh. For a moment, he considered ending Faris’s life, ridding the world of his treachery once and for all.

But then he remembered the warning from the Flame. Power comes at a price.

With a deep breath, Rashid sheathed his sword. “You’re not worth the blood on my hands.”

He turned and walked away, leaving Faris kneeling in the dirt as his camp burned around him. The Berber forces had won, but Rashid knew that this was only the beginning. The war against Spain still loomed on the horizon, and there were many more battles yet to be fought.