The trip west had been really tough.
Amir and his small escort had been riding through the night, their horses' hooves pounding the ground. Behind them, darkness hid any trace of the road they'd left, but the horrors of Assyria's fall remained fresh in their hearts.
Their only hope was to reach the Mediterranean coast and find a way to Greece. But Parakshan scouts were everywhere, and the roads felt dangerous.
To escape being followed, Amir's guards took a risky path through the forests and rocky hills of Phoenicia, away from people and safety.
They hadn't slept properly for two days. They were exhausted, and fear tormented them.
Finally, they stopped near a shallow stream in the hills.
The horses were covered in sweat, their sides heaving. The men dismounted, stretching their sore muscles. Amir slid off his saddle, his legs shaking from the long ride.
General Rashid, the leader of the group, took off his helmet and wiped the dust from his face. He was a battle harden man, his eyes still sharp even with tiredness creeping in.
"We rest here," he said. "Not for long. Just enough to drink and catch our breath."
The men knelt by the stream, drinking down the cold water. Amir joined them, feeling the coolness refresh him.
For the first time since they fled, they actually stopped to rest.
But then,
A sharp whistle was heard, followed by a frightening sound as an arrow buried itself in one of the men's throats. He staggered forward, mouth open, blood pouring out, unable to make a sound.
The guards looked around, confused about what just happened.
Then, chaos broke out.
Bandits emerged from the trees, rushing in like wolves with their swords gleaming in the dim light. Their faces were covered in cloth, and they wore ragged leather and stolen armor.
"AMBUSH!" Rashid shouted, pulling out his sword.
Amir stumbled back as one of the bandits charged at him. Before the blade could strike, a guard stepped in, blocking the attack with his shield.
What had been a peaceful spot turned into a battlefield.
Steel clashed. Men shouted. The horses panicked.
Rashid fought bravely, taking down one bandit, but another jumped on his back, dragging him down.
"PROTECT THE PRINCE!" he shouted before a dagger pierced his chest.
Amir froze, his heart racing with fear.
A bandit spotted him.
"The boy! Grab him!"
Two men ran toward him.
Amir's fingers reached for The Splasher, the sword his father gave him. Just as he barely gripped it, a strong arm pulled him away.
"Hang on, my prince!"
One of the injured warriors, blood streaming from his shoulder, cut off the hands gripping Amir and lifted him onto a horse.
"Ride! GO!"
Before Amir could process what was going on, the warrior urged the horse forward.
The horse charged through the trees, the sounds of battle fading behind him.
Tears streamed down Amir's face as he looked back, realizing his protectors were being overwhelmed.
They had given their lives for him.
The horse galloped through the night, Amir hanging on tightly.
For the first time in his life, Amir felt completely alone.
Then ahead, he saw a flickering light.
A wagon sat by the roadside, lanterns glowing in the dark. Beside it stood a cloaked figure watching him come closer.
When their eyes met, Amir knew his fate was about to change.