Of Flame, Sand, and Gold

Episode 4: Shadow Games

Kaelen never liked debts. Not the kind where money exchanged hands — those were easy.

It was the favors, the rescues, and the “I saved your ass, now owe me your life” debts that gnawed at his pride like termites in a timber wall.

And it just so happened that the very woman who’d saved his ass this time was that woman; the one with the mask, the one who beat the crap out of him in public like he’d stolen her grandmother’s goat and pissed on it.

Yeah… her.

Back then, she paid him handsomely to act like a raving lunatic during some pompous political parade in the outer provinces; some horse-fair ride where the nobles gathered to sniff their own perfumes.

Kaelen was cast as the deranged assassin lunging at one of the rich, clueless figureheads, all dramatic flair and bloodless blades.

Then she, the heroine of the hour, flew in like a phoenix with fists, boots, and an uncanny ability to find Kaelen’s kidneys.

He played the part too well. She beat the part too hard. "At this point," Kaelen would later mutter, " she owes me a dental plan and a spine realignment."

Sure, the pay was heavy; but so were her boots. Most of the coins ended up with the nearest bone doctor.

That performance should’ve won him an award, or at least a permanent limp.

And now, here she was again. Only this time, the blood was real.

Kaelen wheezed as pain gnawed at his side. The thug had meant business. Real knife, real blood, real panic.

And she; the masked lady of mayhem had really saved him this time. No act. No hidden daggers in the drama.

It was more of… swift strikes and a trail of unconscious hooded men.

“I knew you could handle yourself in a brawl,” she said casually, wiping dust off her cape with all the delicacy of someone cleaning their spectacles.

“Apologies for… you know, all these…” She gestured at the chaos. “Didn’t expect my target to hire you as a guard.”

“Guard?” Kaelen muttered, his voice cracking like dried bark. He could barely keep upright, the pain pulsing through him like war drums.

“You mean me? Guarding this chaos?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she whipped around to the rest of her hooded goons. “Finish your damned job already, you good-for-nothings!” She barked.

Her words sliced sharper than any blade. Then she turned to Kaelen again and, in that soft, twisted way of hers, smiled. “You know… I really like you. So I’ll let you off the hook for interfering today.”

Before Kaelen could roll his eyes, a rear guard rushed up to her and whispered something urgent.

She stiffened, nodded, and then raised two fingers to the air; a silent signal.

The effect was instant.

Like ink dropped into water, her crew scattered.

One vanished into a drainage path. Another dove into a cart of hay. One flipped off a rooftop with unnecessary flair.

Gone.

Just like that.

No trace.

No footsteps.

Only the faint scent of incense and blood. Kaelen, meanwhile, was fading. He tried to mutter something witty, but all that came out was, “Oh... it’s this guy again...” as Sahen; golden guard boy himself arrived with a band of royal guards, all pomp and pointed spears like a traveling theater group auditioning for “Knight in Shining Armor: The Musical.”

“Kaelen!” Sahen called out, unnecessarily heroic.

Kaelen sighed just before blacking out. Typical.---

When Kaelen next opened his eyes, it felt like waking up inside a painter’s dream.

Candlelight flickered against the wooden ceiling, casting warm shadows that danced along a red stripe that stretched from the beams to a large, creaky window.

The night breeze nudged the wooden shutters back and forth, creating a gentle rhythm that tickled his ears.

The air had this aura of healing oils… and something sweet; was that dried cinnamon bark?

Beside the bed, Saltana sat like a kid who’d just dropped the last piece of sugar yam into the dirt.

Her eyes were puffed, tears streaming silently. Her lips trembled like they were auditioning for a sad ballad.

She clutched his hand like it was the last loaf of bread during the famine season.

When she noticed he was awake, the silent sobbing gave way; and the floodgates opened.

Kaelen blinked. “Did... did someone run over your cat?” he whispered.

She didn't laugh. But she didn't let go either. Trying to lighten the moment, Kaelen placed his other hand gently over hers. That seemed to calm her, at least a little.

A heartbeat later, Sahen strolled in like the smug captain of a ship he never sailed. “Well, well, well. Look who’s finally decided to stop bleeding everywhere.”

He wore that look; you know the one. The “I saved your life, so now you owe me five dinners and a poem” look.

“You’re welcome,” he added, arms folded, chin up, smugness practically dripping off his face like honey off a spoon.

Kaelen slowly closed his eyes again. “Great,” he muttered. “He’s doing the look again.”

“What?” Sahen asked, grinning.

“Oh, nothing,” Kaelen sighed. “Just thinking of how to express my deepest gratitude. Maybe a song. Or a statue. With an annoyingly perfect jawline.”

“You didn’t mean that, did you?” Sahen smirked.“

I definitely meant that, good sir.” Kaelen pressed a hand to his chest and bowed his head mockingly. “I am forever indebted. May the gods bless your heroic—”

“Alright, alright!” Sahen waved him off. “Save the drama.”

Then, glancing briefly at the weeping Saltana (whom he’d expertly been ignoring), Sahen tilted his head. “You know, if you really want to repay me… how about telling me about yourself?”

Kaelen froze. His smile melted.

“Like your past,” Sahen continued, chin resting in his palm. “Where you’re from. The whole story.”

Kaelen's grin twitched. His eyes darkened. He rubbed the back of his head like he was searching for a lost excuse.

“Ahh… nah. Trust me, it’s boring. You’d sleep halfway through. I'm nobody. A guy from nowhere. I’d put you to sleep faster than a monk’s sermon.”

Sahen leaned forward. “Oh, really? What about your wife, then?”

Kaelen’s eyes snapped wide open. “My wife!” he exclaimed, practically leaping up. “Oh hell! You’re right! I have to go!”

“Wait—what?” Sahen blinked.

“I’ll repay you later, cross my bloody heart!”

Kaelen grabbed Saltana’s hand, bolted toward the door with a limp, dragging her like a panicked street juggler dodging taxes.

Behind him, Sahen stood fuming, his hands tightening like he was ready to strangle a goose.

Then his mind wandered — to just moments earlier.---

He’d been having lunch with Chief Tenem-Ra, the ever-serene ruler of Aru’Shenu. Their usual palace dining was more intimidating than relaxing; high marble columns, golden drapes that shimmered like falling sunlight, and tables so polished they could blind you if you squinted wrong.

Silver cutlery, golden plates, and enough space between chairs to fit a goat market. Just as Sahen reached for a goblet of wine, a guard burst in, breathless.

“Sahen, sir! Your Majesty! Trouble in the local quarter — hooded thugs. And Kaelen’s involved!”

Sahen stood instantly. But it was the chief who stole his attention.

“That bastard…” Tenem-Ra hissed.

“You know him?” Sahen asked, startled.

“Oh, we’ve got history,” the chief said grimly.

Sahen raised an eyebrow. “History?”

Tenem-Ra waved him off like shooing a fly. “Go. Handle this. I’ll tell you our tale later.”

And now… as Kaelen vanished through the infirmary doors with Saltana in tow… Sahen couldn’t help but feel the storm was just beginning.---

Back in the shadows of the city, the masked lady stood atop a building, her cloak fluttering like a midnight flag.

A blackbird landed beside her, with a strange letter tied on its back between its feathers.

Her lips curled.“

So… Kaelen doesn’t even know… what his beloved really is yet and what exactly that makes him…”

She turned to the hooded shadows behind her. “Prepare the next move. The real game begins now.”