CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“IF YOU KNOW THE ENDING to my story, then finish it,” Mazeeda questioned him, discreetly testing the waters.

He shook his head, face plain and giving nothing away. It was like staring at a wall and expecting it to crumble. “This is not my story to tell. It is yours.”

The queen sighed into her hands, slowly losing patience with her husband. “Then there’s no point in telling it if you already know. The only reason why I woven the story was to...was to…”

Now that Mazeeda thought about it, her intention to why she decided to tell the tale was up in shambles. One part of her was screaming out at her that she had done it to save Shazerade's life and the other to save her own. And in the back of her head, there was a whisper and it said: You do it for him. It keeps him sane. You wish to please him.

"Love." Khai's voice pierced through her thoughts, shredding them into silence. "I want you to tell me your story, yes?"

Her eyes wandered from his eyes to his mouth and finally his hands, empty without his glamorous dagger and now occupied with the silk sheets. "Fine," she obeyed him like a servant. "The tale of Sharik and Leila starts once again and like always, you are correct, their story will end quickly and tragically.

But for now, the moon is shining proudly above them. The stars quiet and the night sky shy. The breeze soft whispers against the gentle cold atmosphere.

With her hands on Sharik's chest, Leila pushed him away and gathered herself up. The sleeve of her shirt now ruined, stained with ashes of the unknown.

The sun warrior stood up as well, not bothering to wipe off any lent. 'Leila, I-'

'It's dangerous,' she said. 'It's best if we part ways here as strangers.'

'Friends,' he insisted.

Sighing, she nodded. Always stubborn, always persistent. It made her realise why he was alive.

Stepping out of the old temple, her steps careful and measured. Leila picked up her dagger and put it back into its sheath. Everything was telling her to take one last look behind her back, but society was denying it.

Sharik went for her wrist once again, but stopped short of it. He would let her go again. He swallowed, afraid he was making a mistake. 'Will I ever see you again?'

She stopped walking but didn't turn to answer him, didn't dare look him in the eye one last time. 'No, I hope I don't. And if we ever do, I have a feeling it's when something bad has happened.'

That was the priestess last words to him as she winnowed up towards the Sky.

LEILA MADE SURE SHE WAS occupied at all times, it helped keep her mind off of Sharik. The best way to do it was training other potential young women into priestess, away from the battlefields down below even if her brother insisted relentlessly.

When she couldn't will herself to sleep, it was those times when she thought of him. Of what they could have been. It was unnecessary thinking, surely not fit for a moon person.

But one night, as Leila was just about to doze off, Hasan barged into the room; breathless and rigid. 'What happened?' she asked as she got up from her bed.

'We lost so many men,' he howled out. 'Even my own men couldn't change the fact that-'

She put reassuring hands on his shoulders, trying her best to calm Hasan down. 'Take a breath. Take a slow deep breath.' He did as he was told. 'Now, start from the beginning.'

'We took a major blow from the sun warriors. They came out of nowhere and attacked one of our strongest bases down below in the Lands. We did what we could but it wasn't enough to hold them back, so I told my men to evacuate. Oh gods, I feel ashamed this happened to me.' Hasan fell into his sisters open arms, needing the comfort he knew his mother would not give him. 'I've disappointed our parents Leila. I know it.'

She only shook her head. 'Our parents have too high of an expectation for us, always. And everytime we reach it, they only set it higher. So there's nothing to be ashamed of.'

The moon warrior did not cry, even if he wanted to. Strong men do not cry. He felt Leila soothe him with calm words. 'Father would be furious at me; knowing that I could not live up to the warrior he once was.'

The younger sibling pushed him back to look at him. Her eyes grew hard and stern, filled with rebellion and determination. 'You are not your father. You are Hasan, my brother, my other half. My comrade in this war. You are everything but our father. And I am not my mother, I refuse to follow in the steps of becoming a harem, hence why I fought to be a priestess.'

Hasan smiled, not quite reaching his light grey eyes that was nearly hidden by his white hair. 'I knew you were always the sagest one.'

Leila laughed. 'Only because I have you as my brother.' She paused, contemplating if she should say more. 'Are you going back to the Lands?'

'Aye, I am.'

'Then I want to come as well. I'll be of help.'

He nodded once, not estimating his sister's determination. 'Alright, let's leave now then.'

THE BATTLEFIELD REEKED OF BLOOD, sweat, and hormones. The atmosphere was filled with pain and hope, so much so that it was suffocating. Bodies from both sides laid dead everywhere, some just moments ago.

'Don't dwell too long,' Hasan suggested. 'It'll take a toll on you, trust me.'

The priestess nodded her head before beginning her work. She turned to walk away.

'And Leila?'

She looked back.

'If you see any sun warriors still alive, kill them. And without hesitation, the less of them the merrier. Understood?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. 'Don't speak to me like that.'

Hasan's posture stiffened in defense. 'Like what?'

'As if I don't know how to defend myself. As if I've never seen death before. I'm a priestess not a weak, innocent girl." She shook her head. "Maybe that was me before, but not anymore. What I'm trying to say is: war changes people. Changed me.'

The warrior looked down, face pale and defeated. Sometimes he found it hard to communicate what he actually wanted to say. 'I know,' he whispered out. 'It changed me too.'

It was then that Leila refused to make eye contact with her brother, somewhat ashamed that she bashed down on him. She was only doing it because she was...scared. Of what, she didn't know quite yet. Or rather, did not want to admit.

With that, they both carried on with their tasks. For Hasan, he was to find any survivors of his own kind. It was too hard of a task for him this time, seeing the dead bodies of a comrade took a toll on his body; he didn't know how long he would be able to keep it together.

For Leila, she was to pray and put her people's souls to rest as she always did once before. And yet, her mind could not stop racing with thoughts, her eyes wandering endlessly for a particular person.

It was wrong for her to hope, cruel even. All these dead bodies amongst her and she wished that Sharik's body was not one of them. If he was, Leila had to brace herself.

It seemed like she was walking through an endless dessert of bodies, never knowing when it starts and stops. From time to time, her fingers would touch her dagger that was tucked away in her leather armor. It comforted her in ways a touch could not.

She stepped over a distorted body, lifting the burning lantern in her hand to its face. It was a sun warrior, but not hers. Sighing, Leila took a step back to breathe.

Before she knew what was happening, a hand went over her mouth, covering the scream she let out. As she was being dragged along the dirt and dead bodies, Leila struggled to get her dagger out.

I cannot die like this. I will not die like this. I refuse to die.

The burning light of her lantern went out, from the wind or from her kidnapper, she didn't know. Once she got her dagger out, Leila raised high, ready to strike.

'Leila don't!'

The familiar voice stopped her, dagger still in mid-air. She squinted to see through the shadows and darkness that surrounded them.

A big warm hand went over her small cold one. 'It's me, Sharik. I won't hurt you.' He lowered both their weapons, throwing his bow onto the ground near her dagger.

The priestess exhaled long and deep, her body weak from defeat. 'Is it really you?" Leila held on tight to the sun warrior's hand, because letting it go would make it all surreal.

'I'm here, Leila. I'm here,' he coaxed her, thumb rubbing over her hand.

She looked off into the distance. 'I thought you were dead amongst the bodies. I couldn't bear the thought of you dead, or even dying, alone.'

Sharik gently grabbed hold of her chin and turned it toward him. He wanted to see those silver eyes the moon could never compare to. He couldn't believe that Leila was right there in front of him, alive and breathing. 'You shouldn't be here,' he warned her. 'This is still dangerous grounds. It's why I had to blow out your lantern, if any of my people saw you, you would be dead. We take no prisoners and show no mercy for your kind. You have to leave immediately.'

'But what about you? Why are you here?'

'To gather the bodies and bring them back to our side to give them a proper ceremony. It's what they deserve.'

'Leila!'

The priestess's blood went cold.

'You didn't come alone?'

'It's my brother.' She began to stand up before Sharik pulled her down.

'You can get killed out there, wait until the moon rises. It's safer for you that way.'

Leila shook her head and got up anyways. 'He might be in danger.'

He wasn't surprised at how stubborn she could be. 'And so would you if you decide to leave my side.'

'I can defend myself just fine, Sharik.'

There was so much he wanted to say to her. How scared he was for her for being too courageous. How much he admired her for her devotion. He began to reach for her hand. 'Leila…'

The priestess took out the crooked dagger. 'I have to go. I don't want to take my chances, especially if he might need me right now. Wouldn't you do the same with your siblings? Protect them in a time like this?'

Sharik rested his elbows on his knees, staring down at the blood stained dirt. 'I wouldn't know. They're dead. All of them are. I'm the only family I have left.'

Leila went cold, swallowing away the sudden tightness in her throat. It clenched so hard she wanted to cry out in pain. 'I truly am sorry that the war had to take them away from you. Perhaps, when this is over, you will find a new one.'

They looked at each other in that moment, eyes unflinching and strong; warm gold against hard steel. Hate did not run through their bodies, but understanding and a sense of love. Because Sharik was not a sun warrior and Leila was not a moon priestess, but rather, just two people who found a sense of escapism in each other at the wrong time.

Leila offered out a hand in which Sharik humbly took. 'Is it wrong,' she began, 'to hope that perhaps when this war is over, I'll see again? Not as enemies, but as a man and woman, as something more?'

Their intertwined fingers gave him a future he never imagined before. It gave him a reason to fight on in this treacherous war. He was tired of seeing abandoned homes, dirtied toys left by scared children, of dead bodies everywhere. In these stolen moments, however, he was forever indebted to seeing those silver eyes, white hair, and pale complexion as if it were his last. 'Leila, I-'

Within a split second, Leila was being pulled towards Sharik and thrown to the ground. She let out a deafening gasp as she got the wind knocked out of her. Her back ached, but she was far more concerned about something else.

As Leila shuffled to get up, she caught a glimpse of Sharik going for his bow, eyes never looking away from the figure standing at a distance who also had a sword in its hand.

Is that my brother? she thought. But even before she could answer her own question, Leila yelled out on instinct. 'Sharik, no!'

He didn't look back, his mind occupied with something else. Or rather, someone else. Grabbing an arrow, he placed it effortlessly on his bow and string, creating tension as he pulled back. Sharik feared death, but he would gladly bestow it on anybody else. It was so much easier to call upon than life itself.

'Stop!' Leila was becoming hysteria as she grabbed her dagger off the ground and ran towards Sharik, hoping to stop him in time. As she ran to both warriors, she became conflicted with who to stop first. 'Shark, stop! It's my brother!'

Hasan was ready to go down if it meant taking this sun warrior with him. The strangers death would be as easy as plucking a star out of the night sky and turn it into a white dwarf. But when he heard his sisters quivering scream, filled with fear and uncertainty, telling the sun warrior to stop, everything he ever knew about this war vanished.

He turned towards Leila's voice, observing from the distance he was from, his mind losing thought of the warrior in that moment. 'Leila?'

'I said stop!' The priestess was barely able to push Sharik off to the side as he let the arrow fly swiftly through his fingers. The grace and beauty of it slicing through the air covered up its true intentions: the moon warrior's heart.

Tripping over his own feet, Sharik clawed at Leila's leather armour, taking her down with him. 'Are you mad? I saved both our lives,' he said as he caught his breath.

The healer brushed him off coldly, still unable to wrap the event that just unfolded in front of her. 'What you did was kill my brother.' Her voice cracked, for she was afraid to know if Hasan really was dead.

'Leila…' Sharik began, too shocked with what he had done. 'I didn't know. How could I know?'

'I told you to stop. That was enough.' She walked slowly towards her brother's body and gasped, falling down to her knees in relief.

Hasan clenched his eyes closed as he pulled the arrow out of his external oblique. 'Where is he? Where is that disgusting sun warrior?' His grip tightened on his sword.

Leila helped her brother sit up. 'Calm down, you're bleeding an excessive amount. He's-'

'Is he dead?' Sharik asked, standing behind the priestess.

Hasan tried to get up at the warrior's voice, but Leila's grip was an ironclad. He always seemed to always underestimate Leila's strength. 'I kill your kind with great pleasure.'

'You will do no such thing,' Leila demanded, voice stern and unbreaking.

'Have you gone mad?' Hasan choked out. 'Their kind has killed us in the millions.'

'And so have your kind as well,' Sharik argued.

'Leave,' the priestess begged. 'You only make things worse. Leave before my brother decides to kill you.' Her silver hair fell over her face, hiding her true emotions that ran across it. She knew that if Hasan was to kill Sharik right now, she would not know what to do.

Her desperate tone was enough to shift the stubborn mountains and clear enough for Sharik not to question her further. He took his leave quietly.

'No,' Hasan whispered out.

Leila turned to face her brother, heart hammering every ribcage in her body.

'It's not what it seems. Leila, please, tell me you aren't doing what I fear you are. You cannot possibly hope that-'

But even Hasan couldn't finish his sentence, because watching Leila's face was enough of an answer for him."

Mazeeda slowed to a stop, opening her eyes to keep a watch of Khai. Her lips softly curled up at the sound of his comforting snores.

|AUTHOR'S NOTE|

okay, to start off: im actually kinda mad at myself for holding this chapter off for nearly a month now. i just didn't know what to write for some time. i was writing basically only a sentence, or if im lucky, a paragraph a week.

summer school for me is so stressful this year, and maybe that's why it's so hard to write atm idk.

anywayyyyys, i hope you all enjoyed this update. :))