𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧

۱۴

☾ F O U R T E E N ⭒

A week had passed by like a year, since the death of Mirza. Barakah still could not comprehend her father was long gone. The days had been spent in solitude and the nights in agony. Very little thing she did or looked upon lead her mind back to her dead father, six feet underground in the cold with nothing but the soil as a blanket. It was thoughts like these that rendered her weak, no longer the cubby girl she was with her father around.

Her lips were chapped and easily bled, hinting to a lack of nutrients her body was receiving. The shine in her once brown eyes glazed to a dull blackness, with  her under eyes sunken and her dusky complexion, she looked like that of a corpse. How could she think of eating when her father had not done so for the last week? How could she ever face the world again when her father no longer could?

It did not take a genius to notice all this lapsed since the death of her father. Ever since Kazimir made the promise to her, it was if each day he lived to fulfill it. The sooner he could get home the better it would be to prepare for revenge. It was unlike him, to look after his war prize, but the circumstances had changed. He had big plans for the two back in Patursi, plans that succeeded in nothing but letting him down. Barakah was innocent, much like her father whom had met his fate too soon.

Turning back to his men, he ordered for them to find shelter, whilst he readied himself to go fish for the night. With a rapid press of his feet, the mare rushed toward the water, leaving a trail of smoke and fire behind. He'd left Anton with an order he could not refuse even if he tried, to look after Barakah.

Meanwhile, Anton stared long and hard at the girl before him. The amount of hatred he had for her disappeared the day her cries of agony reached his ears. It was then his heart had been struck by something akin to lightening. All human, and all having the ability to feel pain.

She was too innocent for his society. He knew his people well, and the men were even better, like vultures, whom would ravished an innocent like her. The women, worse, who would not hesitate to bring her down given the oppertunity. And once she stepped foot on their land, their focus would be solely on her. She was not made for their world, and his heart, for the first time in forever, feared for the young girl, the foreigner.

No. He would not allow it. Despite their differences and the initial hatred he felt towards her, he would make sure to shelter her from the town's men and prying eyes, like an older brother would, even if it meant from Kazimir too. At all costs, he would ensure her safety.

Kazimir had arrived with the fishes, and in an instant one of his men got up from the fire and took the string he'd attached them too. With a thanks, he got to work, preparing the fish to be made. Meanwhile his gaze remained on the girl, seeing how she was present, but not really here. Unbeknownst to him, slight lines had started to appear between his brows, an action he'd find himself doing more often than before. He frowned at the thought, further intensifying the lines, wondering how could someone he'd captured affect him as such.

What was done could not become undone. This was written in Mirza's fate, and Kazimir was just following along with the script the author above had written for them. As soon as the arrow was shot, something like fire ignited within Kazimir as he'd shouted orders to go after the one who's fated to kill before Kazimir. He was certain by the time he'd reach Patursi, the man would be held before him, pleading for death like so many of the others he'd not bothered to kill, but keep alive and wallow in their misery.

A smirk appeared on his face and the same fire ignited in him before it settled as someone's gaze held his own. Barakah's. No words were needed to decipher what they told. He could read a thousand things form them, and the only one that struck out to him was a plead. For what, he did not know, but he would eventually figure it out. Her soul spoke to him, he didn't need to hear. Nor did he need to see.  He just needed to feel.