Phoenix From The Shadows

Chase

QAHWA EL MAKHTOOF WAS PACKED with visitors for the evening. The scent of sandalwood and oud mingled with that of spiced tea and crushed saffron coffee beans. Dimly lit lanterns provided the teashop with just the right amount of lighting in shades of fading yellow and orange hues, casting ornate shadows on the baked brick walls.

The walls boasted themselves with mosaic painted tiles, an artistically disastrous mirage of blues and whites. Patterned with hexagons and pentagons, and flowers blooming in pigments of velvet midnight and ivory, each petal painting a story of its own. Whilst the floor decked itself with the finest Kashan carpets, enwrapping the wool in a symphony of bronze and maroon craftsmanship, it weaved tales of the many flowers mercilessly trampled upon.

However the reason for Qahwa El Makhtoof's fame does not lie behind its ivory paintings, breathtaking interior or its rose essence Qahwa, rather the immortalized hookah corner. It would be indeed a tragedy for one calling themselves a tobacco lover in Derjan, yet not visiting this sanctuary.

And Deyyar bin Yusuf was not a man who allowed himself such a tragedy.

Though he enjoyed his hookah in solace, allowing every taste bud of his to cherish a moment with his most beloved Jasmine Mint flavor--- that solace was not going to greet him tonight. The crowded tables compelled him to sit in another stranger's vicinity, for his throbbing temples left him with no option for skipping his hookah ordeal.

"Love as good as this hookah? Never!" The man blew another puff of scented smoke, eyes fixed on Deyyar. "Thought she was like grape cherry, sweet yet striking. Turns out she was Nakhla Spice-burned like that outcast flavor!" His hand slammed the table, thick rings clinking, earning him another glare by the owner at the counter.

Yet he was oblivious to that stare as much as he was to the fact that his coarse laughter made many ears bleed. Deyyar groaned, tossing his head back. Lucky woman to leave him, he thought.

The latter wiped his eyes after an ordeal of laughter, yet Deyyar raised his palm to silence the man. "I'm not Auntie Dimmeh to counsel you on failed relationships. For I'm not a man who pays attention while having my tobacco. I've been kind for an hour, but you haven't shut up," he said, pinching his eyebrows. "So, I very politely say for the first and last time: I do not wish to grant you even an ounce of my attention."

Heavy silence.

The man chuckled louder. "Khodara, it's okay. The heartbroken come here anyways. Who broke yours?"

"I swear I will stab your jugular." He unsheathed his scabbard, placing it on the table silently.

Though he was thankful to the heavens for silence, the night hadn't brought him any solace like he wished. Perhaps, the mint was a bit too less, or maybe he had just been drinking the same shisha for so--- his thoughts abandoned him the moment a man clad in an unrelenting cloak took a seat right in front of him on the opposite table.

It was as if he carried an aura that blended within the people yet struck Deyyar in the most alarming ways. And although many mercenaries visited the place after night shifts, but the brass knuckles this man placed on the table weren't manufactured anywhere in Derjan.

His face hid behind a cloth of black, shadows of the cloak's hood danced on the latter's forehead. He tapped his fingers against the wooden table, with the other arm around the chair beside him. Yet his eyes darted around the coffee house as if searching for someone, from left to right, here and there. When the man's eyes collided against Deyyar's, which he was never spared from in the first place, almost instantly did he leave his seat and head for the cafe's doors.

His table partner, though, aloof to it all as he begrudged the silence. Deyyar finished his shisha in two more puffs, and reached for the pocket of his trousers.

"Pay my bill for me." He tossed a few gold coins in the man's lap as he followed the figure in pursuit.

The resonance of footsteps echoed through the cobblestone pathways, each step a whispered secret in the moonlit symphony of the night. No sooner he found himself chasing a figure shrouded in mystery, the moon casting an ethereal glow on their nocturnal dance, as he was led into the souk.

The bazaar, a fading tapestry of vibrant colors, bore witness to the clandestine pursuit. The cloaked figure moved with a fluid grace, effortlessly navigating through the dwindling stalls. Deyyar, a silhouette in pursuit, felt the wind carry the echoes of their chase, a melody of suspense weaving through the deserted square they entered.

The man's heels were gliding over the floor's surface, with a left turn led them into the heart of the suspense, the abandoned square pulsating with the secrets of the night. Until finally, a dead end.

The cloaked figure, backing up against the wall, yet suddenly defied gravity, leaping effortlessly to the rooftop above. Without hesitation, Deyyar mirrored the ascent, his movements fluid and precise, a deadly ballet beneath the canvas of the night.
The rooftops became their battleground, a silent chase against the backdrop of a city settling into the embrace of darkness. Deyyar mirrored the cloaked figure's rooftop ballet, a dance of shadows against the canvas of the night. As they reached the final rooftop, the tension thickened, the moonlight revealing a clandestine meeting point.

Face to face at last, the moonlight casting an eerie glow on their figures, the confrontation was imminent. Before Deyyar could speak, a knife gleamed in the night, slicing through the air. With a dancer's grace, he evaded the blade, but the wall behind him bore the mark of the near-miss. A note, impaled on the knife's tip, fluttered to the rooftop:

"This very roof, at the break of tomorrow's dawn."

The night deepened, the city below embraced in the hushed tones of anticipation. The cloaked figure disappeared into a left alley, leaving Deyyar alone on the rooftop, the promise of tomorrow's dawn veiled in the enigma of the night.

________________

A/N

Shall we meet again at tomorrow's dawn.

Xoxo
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