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"Please spare me!! I don't know where it is! I- I will do everything that-" the man's desperate plea was abruptly cut short, his sentence left unfinished as his head was violently severed from his body. In this grim reality, such tales of mercy were nothing but fantasies. For years, this cycle of hostage-taking and brutal executions had plagued the land, leaving behind a trail of terror and despair. Amidst the chaos, 21-year-old Cheshta remained eerily composed, her gaze unwavering even as the room was splattered with blood and echoes of agonizing screams filled the air. As life ebbed away from the victims, Cheshta stood motionless, searching for any semblance of a clue to her own shattered past within the cacophony of suffering. These cries, though harrowing, stirred something within her—a haunting familiarity that compelled her to linger, hoping against hope for answers buried within the crimson tide.
"Cheshta." A man, just a few years her senior, wrinkled his nose in disgust at the gruesome sight before him.
"What are you doing here? Go to the meeting court," he ordered, his voice tinged with authority as he gestured for her to leave the scene. Cheshta simply nodded in acquiescence, bowing slightly before obediently making her way out.
As she exited the room, the cacophony of screams and the stench of death gradually faded into the background, replaced by the dimly lit, damp corridors. Ascending the stairs, she emerged into a well-lit hallway adorned with spacious rooms on either side. Ignoring the distractions, Cheshta pressed forward, her steps purposeful as she made her way towards the meeting court at the far end of the corridor.
Entering the court, Cheshta respectfully bowed to the man seated upon the marble throne atop the highest pedestal. Alongside her, seven others stood, mirroring her gesture of deference.
"I have made the tasks clear to you. You may leave and begin your assigned duties," the elderly man, roughly in his fifties, announced before a single clap resounded through the chamber. With another collective bow, the group departed in pairs, dispersing to carry out their respective missions.
"Ready?" Cheshta nodded affirmatively to the man's inquiry.
"Very well, let's commence." With a gesture, the man acknowledged the small group gathered before disappearing into the foliage.
"Hold on a moment." Cheshta's voice halted the man in his tracks. She reached into her satchel and produced a small pouch, passing it to him. As he examined its contents, comprehension dawned, prompting a final nod before he vanished into the shadows. Cheshta adjusted her clothing, ensuring her nose and mouth were concealed, leaving only her eyes visible. As the wind began to whistle, signaling the start of their mission, determination filled the air.
~
The tents stood proudly against the backdrop of the wilderness, their sturdy frames offering refuge from the biting wind. The horses grazed contentedly on grams nearby, while the crackling bonfire cast a warm glow over the chilly night. After a long evening of searching, they had finally stumbled upon a suitable spot to camp for the night.
