❝My love will drown you to the depths of the sea.❞
Furat bin Kiyan, the fleet admiral of Al Andalus, is a spy and a rebel on a mission to kill the caliph of Cordoba and claim the throne for himself. But finds himself in trouble at the hands of Rahaf...
You come and go so easily, Your life is as you knew; While mine is split in two.
How I envy so the half of me, Who lived before love's due; Who was yet to know of you.
— Lang Leav
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Part II: To Know a Villain
THE RAIN burns out the fire.
There remains nothing of the village but very little. And that which remains holds very little value to him. There's nothing that belongs to him. There's nothing left to love. The dawn brings no hope for him. It holds no goodness.
The boy beside him keeps crying. He's younger than him. He doesn't know how to console him. His mother has died. Someone from among the caliph's men killed her. But so has his mother died. She burnt in the fire the caliph's men set to their house.
But then so has almost all the village been burnt to ashes. So has most of them died. If he wasn't out of the village, maybe he would've too. He wishes if he would've too. He wishes he could cry out his pain too. But he doesn't know how to. He feels too much to express it merely in tears.
A woman comes to them. He recognizes her. She's one of the villagers. She sits with them and shushes the boy beside him.
"Don't cry, brave one."
He continues crying.
She hugs him to comfort him and strokes his hair.
"Once upon a time in Qurtuba, a group of brave men gathered to protest against their tyrant ruler," she begins narrating to them a story. "But the caliph being cruel and uncaring of his people decided to teach them a lesson. You see, men, when given authority, can so easily fall slaves to their pride and greed. You see, people change so easily when their circumstances change and can so easily go astray. Do you understand this? So this is what happened— the caliph was one of those men."
The boy is no more crying as before except for a few soft sobs still escaping him every now and then. He doesn't know whether like him, he's just too tired to cry anymore or if he's actually intrigued by the story and has forgotten about his own.
"So the caliph slayed them all ruthlessly, so he may not have to lose his throne and anything from his power. And he calls them traitors. Scoundrels. And this is what they call those who stand up for themselves and threaten their authority. But you see, people tend to forget that everything has a fall. Men. Nations. And the world itself."
She looks at him. He stares back at her. She has sad eyes. But they're also fierce. And full of something. Determination. Hatred. Revenge.
"And people also tend to forget that one cannot rid of what is destined for them. Now one must reap what one sows, isn't it? How many men could the caliph sly to keep the crown on his head? How many villages could he burn? Until one brave boy took it upon himself to bring justice to everyone."
He continues staring at her. Unblinking. Unflinching. Holding her eyes as if trying to reach the end of the story before her. She smiles and pats his cheek, almost as if reading through him and proud of him.
"I like you. Perhaps you have in you what that little boy had. Do you want to hear the end of the story?"
"Yes."
"So the little boy grew up and killed the caliph of Cordoba."
