The gentle sounds of the river filled Leila's ears as she slowly came to her senses. She could smell the damp earth mingling with the fresh scent of morning dew, while the buzzing of insects and chirping of birds disrupted the quiet surroundings. She stirred slightly, the ground beneath her hard and uneven—this was definitely not her bed.
Warm sunlight spilled over her face, and as she pried her eyes open, she squinted against the blinding rays already high in the sky. In an instant, she sat up, her heart racing, as she realized she was lying on the riverbank.
How did she end up outside, sleeping on the ground near the river?
She looked around, trying to place herself, but the last clear memory she had was of the previous night. She'd been on her way home, walking through the forest, when—
Her heart lurched as images flooded her mind in quick, horrifying flashes.
The wolves…
The tiger…
And him—the man with the golden eyes that was filled with malice.
Her hands shook as she reached up, pressing her fingers against her neck, before she passed out she remembered being in so much pain, her fingers searching frantically for any sign of a wound. She remembered his grip, the pain as his fangs sank into her flesh, yet now there was nothing but smooth skin. Her fingers ran over her neck, finding no cuts or bruises. How was that possible?
The realization settled over Leila like a heavy mist—she was alive. Somehow, against all odds, she had convinced the most feared Shahkhur to spare her life. It felt unreal, like a dream.
How could she possibly be unharmed after what happened? The last memory she had was of him hovering over her, fury in his golden eyes, his hands closing around her neck as she teetered on the edge of consciousness. And yet here she was, by the riverbank, intact and unscathed.
As she grappled with the implications, a voice called out in the distance, breaking her trance.
"Leila!" The voice was urgent, mixed with relief and panic. She recognized it instantly—Arman, her younger brother. Her gaze whipped toward the sound, and there he was, sprinting toward her with an axe clutched in his hands, his face etched with worry.
"Leila, where have you been?" he demanded breathlessly as he closed the distance between them. His expression softened into one of overwhelming relief, but his voice still trembled with lingering fear. "You were supposed to bring Mother's medicine back last evening. I searched everywhere for you. I thought the worst…"
Leila's heart sank as she took in the anxiety in her brother's eyes. She could see how his mind had raced with every imaginable horror, and she wanted nothing more than to reassure him.
"I'm so sorry, Arman," she murmured, her voice choked with guilt. "I was on my way back, but…" She hesitated, knowing how strange her story would sound. "You're not going to believe what happened, but I swear it's true. I was chased by wolves, a whole pack of them."
Arman's eyes widened with alarm as he took her words in, but before he could speak, he dropped the axe and stepped closer, his hands moving over her shoulders, her arms, searching her body for any sign of injury. His fingers probed gently, expecting bruises, scratches, anything that would explain what she had been through. But he found nothing—no cuts, no bruises, not even a hint of soreness.
"How…?" Arman whispered, frowning as he inspected her. "You look…perfectly fine. No wounds, no scratches at all."
Arman's expression shifted from disapproval to outright disbelief, his brows drawing tightly together. "Now that was not a funny joke," he said, his voice laced with irritation. "Do you even know how worried I was last night, Leila? I stayed up, pacing the whole time, but I couldn't leave the house. Mother was sick, and I couldn't leave her alone, especially not with how close we are to the Forbidden Forest. Do you even realize you could have accidentally wandered into Shahkhur's den?"
He scolded her, his voice carrying a sternness that was surprising given his younger age. But despite being younger, Arman was fiercely protective, carrying the lessons their father had implanted in him about the responsibilities of a man. He took those words to heart, especially since they were some of the last their father ever spoke.
For Arman, watching over his sister and their mother had become his mission, to ensure his father rest in peace.
"But I'm not joking, Arman," Leila protested, her tone laced with frustration. "It's true—I really was chased by wolves last night. And I only escaped because…" She trailed off, hesitating. The truth sounded far too absurd, but she couldn't bear to keep it to herself.
"Yes, so you were chased by wolves, and somehow managed to outrun them?" Arman raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You're telling me you stayed in the forest all night and somehow returned without a scratch? Let me guess, are you going to say some mystical creature saved you?"
Leila sighed, knowing how implausible her story sounded but determined to make him understand.
"I was saved… by Shahkhur."
Arman stared at her, his mouth falling open in stunned silence, before letting out a bark of incredulous laughter.
"Shahkhur? The very beast you're supposed to fear more than anything else in the forest?" He shook his head, crossing his arms. "Leila, if you're trying to explain why you stayed out all night, I'm afraid this isn't working."
Arman paused, eyeing his sister suspiciously before placing a hand on her forehead, frowning as he checked her temperature. "You don't even have a fever," he muttered, his brow furrowed with concern. "Why are you talking such nonsense? Are you sure you're feeling alright? Did you drink any wine?" He examined her carefully, his eyes searching her face for any hint of confusion.
Leila sighed, exasperated. "Come on, I'm completely sober, and I know what I saw. I met Shahkhur last night. He was as terrifying as everyone says. The stories don't even capture how intense it was."
Arman let out a deep sigh, grabbing her by the wrist and tugging her along. "Enough of this. Let's go home—Mother needs her medication. She had a fever all night, and I couldn't leave her just to go out searching for you. I can't stand here listening to tales, Leila."
Leila struggled to keep up, her feet stumbling over the rocks as he pulled her. "I'm serious! Why won't you believe me?" she pleaded.
Arman shook his head, not slowing down. "Because no one has ever met Shahkhur face-to-face and survived to tell the tale," he scoffed. "What next? Are you going to say he fell in love with you?" His words were edged with mockery, and he continued to pull her forward, barely glancing back.
As she trudged beside him, Leila couldn't blame her brother for his skepticism. Even she might've doubted such a tale if anyone else had told it. But her heart raced with an ache to be believed.
Finally, they reached their home, and Leila broke free of Arman's grip, rushing into her mother's room. "Mother," she cried, dropping to her knees beside the bed. "I'm so sorry, I didn't bring your medicine last night. I… I got lost and delayed, and…" Her voice faltered, the weight of the night's events pressing down on her, mixing with guilt and relief to finally be home.
"She had a fever all night," Arman murmured from the doorway, his voice heavy with fatigue. "I managed to bring it down at dawn, but it scared me more than anything."
Leila knelt beside her mother's bed, gently clasping her mother's frail hand. The older woman stirred, her green eyes weakly opening, and a faint smile touched her lips as she saw her daughter.
"Leila…" she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was so worried about you. You know how dangerous it is to be out in the village at night, there is no need to go out to get me medication every night."
"I know it's dangerous, Mother. I'm sorry but I can't just leave you like that," Leila replied, guilt weighing her down. "I didn't mean to stay out; I tried explaining to Arman, but he doesn't believe me. I was really attacked by—"
"Enough, Leila," Arman cut her off sharply. "Don't trouble Mother with your stories."
The woman's weary gaze shifted back to Leila, and her eyes fell on a strand of Leila's hair where the dye had worn off, revealing a sliver of white. Her mother's face tensed as she recognized the indicative color, an unmistakable trait they shared.
"Leila… your hair," she mentioned in a whisper, her voice dripping with concern and also laced with a warning.
Leila froze, instinctively reaching up to cover the strand, hoping Arman hadn't noticed. Her mother had always cautioned her to keep her unusual hair color hidden—a secret she had kept for years, at her mother's insistence.
"Remember, my dear," her mother whispered urgently. "It's dangerous for anyone to know… if they find out, you'll end up just like me."
"I understand, Mother," Leila said softly, tucking the white strand securely behind her ear. She stepped back, handing a small pouch over to Arman. "This is her medication. Please, prepare it for her."
Arman raised an eyebrow, clearly unsettled.
"You always make her medicine. Why are you giving it to me now?" He crossed his arms, irritation flickering across his tired face. "I've been up all night, Leila. I need a little rest."
Their mother's voice, weak but insistent, came from the bed. "Arman… I'd like to drink the medicine from your hands."
Arman's dark eyes darted from his mother to Leila. He let out a small huff, rolling his eyes as he took the pouch from her. "Alright, fine," he muttered.