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The mystical continent of Nooristana teeters on the brink of war. As the enemy forces prepare to attack, Queen Numaira of Amruthsthaan stands alone between peace and chaos, anxiously awaiting r...
As the sun dipped low, casting a fading golden light over the halted caravan, the air grew thick with the weight of the evening. A cool breeze stirred the rustling leaves, whispering promises of the long night ahead.
Amir dismounted from his horse, his eyes scanning the peaceful surroundings.
"Let’s halt here for the night. We’ll reach Amarabad by tomorrow evening, inshallah," Amir instructed, his voice calm but commanding.
The men quickly went about their tasks, setting up tents and preparing the evening meal.
As the camp settled, Amir retired to his tent after dinner, exhaustion tugging at him. He lay down, his mind filled with thoughts of home, of his mother, and the weight of the kingdom that now rested on his shoulders.
But sleep was elusive. Amir tossed and turned on the rough ground, his thoughts whirling in endless loops, giving him no peace.
Finally, as his body gave in to sheer exhaustion, he slipped into a restless slumber.
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But it wasn’t long before something disturbed him, pulling him from the thin veil of sleep.
"Shehzaade Amir..."
A low, urgent voice pierced the haze of his dream. Amir’s eyes snapped open instantly, his heart pounding as if still running from the chaos of his nightmares.
In the dim, flickering light of the tent, Vikram’s grim face loomed over Amir, the dying embers from the campfire outside casting long shadows that mirrored the urgency in his eyes.
Amir blinked, and rubbed his eyes. "Vikram ji?" His voice was rough with exhaustion. "What are you doing here at this hour?"
Vikram’s expression was tense, his voice grave. "We need to talk, Shehzaade. There’s no time to waste."
Amir's brow furrowed, sensing the tension hanging in Vikram’s words. 'What’s going on? Speak clearly.'
Vikram took a step closer, his voice lowering. "Shehzaade, we must leave immediately. The enemy is about to ambush us."
Amir blinked in confusion, his mind still foggy from sleep. "What are you talking about? Who wants to ambush us, and why?"
"There’s no time to explain everything, but you need to trust me," Vikram insisted, his voice urgent. "Mirza was —"
Suddenly, the sound of distant shouting and clashing metal cut through the night.
Amir’s heart raced as he bolted to his feet, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword.
Vikram let out a long, weary sigh, his hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. "It’s too late," he whispered, his voice heavy with regret.
