Men of Darkness

The king paced. He didn’t like the story of Leila. He needed air, wit.

-Tell me of this other Shahrazad. The one of the city.

Scheherazade sat on the divan. She poured wine.

-Princess Shahrazad. She found a hidden grove. A magical garden behind walls of thorns.

-What was inside?

-Luminous flowers. Fruit of silver and gold. And a guardian.

-A monster?

-A djinn. Ancient. Powerful. He challenged her.

A djinn. The king stopped pacing.

-A fight?

-A battle of wits. Three riddles for a single wish.

Scheherazade swirled her wine.

-First. I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with the wind.

-An echo.

-Correct. Second. What has roots no one sees, is taller than trees, up it goes, and yet never grows?

-A mountain.

She smiled. A challenge in her eyes.

-The princess answered swiftly. The djinn was impressed. He asked the final riddle. What can travel all around the world without leaving its corner?

She waited. The king studied her.

-A child with a book.

She clapped her hands once. A sharp sound.

-Magnificent.

She leaned forward. She placed a hand on his thigh. Her fingers trailed upward.

-The djinn granted her wish. She did not ask for gold. She asked for the secret incantations. To summon the magic of the garden.

The king looked at her hand.

-Dangerous knowledge.

-Power. To sway minds. To bend reality.

He took her hand. He removed it from his leg. He placed it on the table.

-What did she do with it?

She smirked. She withdrew her hand.

-She bided her time.

Scheherazade poured more wine.

-The Princess used her magic subtly. But the Grand Vizier was watching.

-A rival?

-A hunter. He invited her to a private audience. A trap. He warded the room to detect her power.

-Did she walk in?

-She wore an amulet. It shielded her aura. The Vizier found nothing.

-He let her go?

-He grew desperate. He forced a vial of black liquid down her throat. A truth serum. To strip her mind bare.

The king stiffened. He gripped the armrest of the throne.

-She fought?

-She showed him only fragments. Childhood memories. Poems. She hid the power deep inside.

-Clever girl.

-The Vizier was enraged. He threw her into the dungeons.

The king looked at his hands.

-Torture?

-Whips. Humiliation. Weeks turned to months.

-Did she break?

-Never. Her body bore scars. Her spirit remained steel.

Scheherazade looked at the king. Her eyes were wet.

-Sometimes triumph is not defeating the foe. It is refusing to shatter.

The king reached out. He touched her face.

-It would have been better for him to leave her alone.

-Men like him are driven by darkness.

The king stood. The story was done. The lesson learned.

-I am retiring to my chambers.

She watched him rise.

He walked away. The room felt empty.