1. Between the shadows of pain

In the vibrant heart of ancient Babylon, under a sky so vast that it seemed to carry the weight of the gods, lived Kiran Azid, a twenty-two-year-old young man destined to assume great responsibilities. He was the eldest son of a noble family, prepared to hold a high position in the king's court, a role that his father, a strict but just man, had carried with honor and discipline.

The first light of dawn already found Kiran awake, immersed in the rigors of his education: studying laws, the history of the empire, and the art of diplomacy. His father, always attentive, observed with severity the dedication of his son, but never losing that spark of tenderness he reserved for family moments. He was a man who understood that strength must go hand in hand with justice.

In the house, far from formalities, there was another type of authority: that of a loving mother who, with her hands, wove the calm and love that alleviated the demands of lineage. Her gaze, full of concern and hope, rested tenderly on her four younger daughters, who transformed every corner of the palace into a refuge of laughter, songs, and improvised dances, as if they wanted to challenge time itself with their innocence.

And among those faces was Leila, his fiancée, daughter of a wealthy merchant who had crossed his path on an ordinary day in the bustling trade street. A casual, almost fortuitous encounter that unleashed a silent and firm connection, woven with knowing glances and subtle gestures. Leila represented the promise of a future that Kiran cherished with the same devotion with which he cared for his family.

In a cozy living room decorated with vibrant tapestries and tables filled with fruits and date bread, both families had gathered to enjoy a moment of joy. Laughter resonated in the air, accompanied by the clinking of ceramic cups and the delicious aroma of spiced wine. Plans for the wedding were discussed amid jokes and promises, while the children ran happily, oblivious to the problems lurking beyond the walls.

Kiran smiled at seeing Leila chatting animatedly with his mother, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the glow of shared happiness.

Thus, the days passed in Babylon, under the imposing shadow of a destiny that had yet to reveal its face, but that approached with the inevitable certainty of a storm that no wall could stop.

Night had fallen quietly over Babylon. The air was infused with sweet aromas, and the silence felt like a blessing after the joy of the day. But that calm was not going to last. From the heights of the walls, the alarm horn broke the tranquility like a bad omen. The sound was sharp, prolonged, and repeated over and over. An enemy army was approaching.

Inside the palace, the laughter suddenly stopped. The doors of the hall burst open. A group of guards rushed in, pale and sweaty.

— Hurry! We must leave! The city is under attack!

Chaos erupted immediately. No one knew which way to go. Parents called for their children. Mothers hugged their little ones. Some tried to gather the essentials, while others simply fled. Kiran and his family, along with Leila's parents, were guided toward the back doors, but the confusion, smoke, and desperation made it impossible to stay together. Soon, each one got lost in the crowd.

In the streets, the capital of great Babylon was burning. The houses were crumbling. The fire climbed the walls like a wild beast. People ran in all directions. Some fell under the arrows, others were captured by enemy soldiers. The screams echoed in the air: screams of terror, of suffering, of death.

Kiran ran through the streets, pushing bodies and dodging flames, with a single idea in mind: to find his family… to find Leila. Desperation guided him more than reason. He looked at every face, every corner, searching for a single hint of his own.

And then he saw them. His parents were surrounded by soldiers next to a stone fountain. His father, with his head held high, fought with a small dagger. It was not enough. A spear pierced his chest. His mother fell beside him, holding him until the end. She did not scream. She just closed her eyes and accompanied him in death.

Kiran wanted to run to them, but he couldn't. His legs trembled, his voice broke. And when he thought he could bear no more pain, he saw her. Leila. Alone, dragged by one of the soldiers. She struggled to free herself, calling his name. Kiran ran, with his soul on fire. But it was too late. A sword descended. The blow was certain. Leila fell to the ground as if time stopped just to witness how her light went out.

— NO! — roared Kiran.

He tried to reach her, to get to her side, even if it was just to hold her hand one last time. But before he could do so, a figure emerged from the shadows. Tall, covered in a dark cloak.

It did not say its name. It just held him tightly.

— Let me go! Let me go to her!

— Not today — said the voice, deep and grave —. Today you do not die.

He Dragged Him Away from Leila's Lifeless Body. Kiran fought with all his strength, but the pain was breaking him. He could barely breathe. Just before losing consciousness, he looked up one more time. And then he saw them. His sisters. All four of them. Amid the flames and the screams, they were being dragged by enemy soldiers. They cried. They shouted his name. They reached out their arms towards him, asking for help. And he, unable to do anything, let himself fall into darkness.

When Kiran opened his eyes, the world was no longer the same. The morning breeze brought with it the scent of ash and blood. The sky, still dark, was beginning to turn a dirty gray. Around him, only smoking ruins, broken stones, and the distant echo of suffering remained. He was tied hand and foot, with his back against what was left of a column. The marble, which had once been white, was now stained with soot and dirt.