Golden Storms | #Wattys2020

33. N I G H T

A/N: Assalamualaikum and hello everyone! I know it's been a LONG time. I owe you all an explanation. I was sort of facing a writer's block in that I didn't know where I was going or how to bridge this part of the book to the part I want to write. I also started full time work Alhumdulillah which is always hard to adjust to at first. I saw your comments and request every single day and believe me I have started and saved a few drafts only to back track because I'm not happy with them. I want to make sure wha you get is a good read, not rubbish. I hope you all enjoy this chapter coming up, there is a lot of exciting things to come that I don't think you'll be expecting! Chapter 34 is already under way. Last but not least, THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE! I cannot express how grateful I am for you sticking around!

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She lays those golden eyes on me and my universe brightens. But I have lived far too long in the darkness to survive the light.
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T H E T R I O
رَجَب
H I J A A Z

The night was deep, dark and alive. The silence of the barren roads that led caravans out of Hijaaz and into Mesopotamia was broken by the sound of pounding hooves of well-bred horses. There were three, powerful and sleek, necks arching ahead and mist rising from their nostrils as they galloped over the land at a steady pace. The riders themselves rode with a silent, cold confidence. Two were hooded, their black cloaks whipping behind them in the wind, black gloved hands gripping the reins.

Falaq could feel the air coursing past her face. Her eyes felt the sting of the cold nights of Hijaaz, veil plastered to her lips. It had been a long time since she had ridden Batal so freely. He seemed glad to stretch his legs too, energy coursing through his arched neck and strong legs.

To her far left, riding almost level was Nuh. His head was almost bowed, his arms tense. Like herself, he seemed to be deep in thought. There was a strange freedom to riding on an open road – it was liberating, and in its strange way, peaceful.

To her left and slightly ahead rode Hudayfa. The cloak did not hide his broad shoulders, rather it only seemed to add to his mystery. She felt her eyes grow hot and looked away, focusing on the road her ahead, her mind far away.

It had been after she'd insisted Zakariya be sent to the safety of the town instead of left in the middle of the woods as Hudayfa had been perfectly at ease with. He seemed to dislike the old man greatly, but sent Nuh with him nevertheless – though not after threatening him that if he managed to get abducted one more time Hudayfa would not come back for him.

Falaq could feel those stormy silver eyes on her, but she turned away, barely holding back hysteria. Zakariya loathed her enough to curse her. His hate was so deep rooted, so validated by her failure to locate Ishtar. She could tell herself what she wanted but she was indirectly responsible for Ishtar's demise. The pain a parent had of losing their child....well, she knew it was unparalleled. So much so that God made those children their pathway to heaven.

One tear dropped, then another. It didn't help that they were surrounded by dead bodies. Admittedly, there was nothing else to be done – they would have done they same to Hudayfa, Nuh and Zakariyya if they could have. All the same...she cast her eyes away from their lifeless eyes. They probably had families of their own. Something had caused them to choose a dishonourable lifestyle. Why was it that this dunya was so devoid of compassion?

She heard Hudayfa sigh behind her.
"Falaq"

Her name on his lips made her heart flutter. It was never the same anywhere else. There was something special, sincere, about the way he uttered it.

"Leave me be" she replied, attempting to be stern. She did not want him to see her reddening eyes, or how much Zakariyya's threat frightened her.

She gasped when he grasped her arm and spun her around. She prepared herself for an outburst, how dare he-!

But his gaze had all her profanities stuck at the back of her throat.

Those eyes, usually thunderous whenever they settled on her, were like molten silver. Their depths were endless, entrancing.

He said nothing. The question was in his eyes, in his expression, in the way he still held her arm.

"You will not understand" she told him softly, placing a hand on his to pry it away.

"Try" he said quietly, eyes flickering to where her hand touched his. She removed it immediately, cheeks burning under the veil.