Light from the ashes

In the far south of the Great Valley, where the plains embrace the mountains and where fog creeps over the grasses every dawn, lies a small village called Al-Nada. A peaceful village nestled on the bank of a fresh stream, awakened by the crows of roosters and the sounds of birds in the open sky. The people there are kind-hearted; they grow wheat, fish from the stream, and build their houses from wood and mud. At the center of the village is a dirt square where adults meet to tell stories and children to play. The spring that springs from the heart of the rock is the source of life and the reason for the name: Ain Al-Nada. --- In one of these houses, specifically at the trunk of an ancient mulberry tree, lived Murad, a seventeen-year-old boy. His eyes were hazel, his hair was dark, and his features were sharp despite his young age. Murad loved horse riding and had a white horse called Al-Rakad, fast as an arrow, trusting no one but himself. He loved listening to his grandfather's stories about enchanted castles and brave knights, and he would always practice with the wooden sword behind the house. --- His father, Diaa, was a hunter and the commander of the village guard. He was a tall, taciturn man, but his presence made others feel safe. His mother, Lulu, had a soft voice and a kind heart. She loved flowers and sang to her young twins before bed. Sabit and Baeth, Murad's twin brothers, were ten years old. The first was quiet and thoughtful, the second was mischievous and always laughing. They clung to their brother Murad as if he were both their teacher and their hero. --- It was a quiet evening. Their father was repairing his spear, their mother was baking hot bread, and the twins were fighting over a piece of date. Murad was looking up at the sky, contemplating the gathering clouds and the wind that had begun to blow with a strange force. Then... night came. But the night was not like any other night. Suddenly, a distant scream echoed, followed by the neighing of horses. Then fire... then smoke... then another scream. The doors of the houses were slammed open, and flames rose into the sky. --- It was the Black Banner Gang. A gang whose origins are unknown, whose men's faces are never seen, and whose lives are never left behind. It attacked the village from three directions. It lit fires and saddled its horses in the darkness, carrying torches and swords. Anyone who stood in its way was killed or dragged away. Murad heard his mother's screams and rushed toward her, but found her being dragged to the ground. He ran toward his twins and saw a man lift them up and throw them onto a horse's back. As for his father, he stood by the door, raising his spear, fighting alone... Then he fell. Murad screamed... but he didn't hear his own voice. It was as if everything fell silent, except for the flames. He rushed toward his father, but suddenly... one of the guards hit him from behind with a thick stick. His body shuddered, and the world went black before his eyes. Then... nothing. --- He woke up hours later. It was all over. Smoke covered the sky. Scattered bodies, ash, and collapsed houses. No sound... except the rustle of ash crunching under his footsteps. He slowly got up, his body still in pain from the blow. He scanned the area, then ran toward the house... There, at the entrance, he saw his father covered in blood, his spear broken, and a deep stab wound in his chest. Next to the tree, his mother lay on the ground, her hand outstretched, her blood staining the grass beneath. He approached them slowly, reeling from shock. He knelt down and reached out to touch their faces... But the coldness had overtaken his hands. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes tightly. He raised his head, searching for his twins... But there was no sign of them. No bodies, no clothes, not even blood. They disappeared...as if the earth had swallowed them. --- He didn't cry. He remained standing in the heart of the ruins, then walked home. He found a picture of himself and his twins on a wooden board, picked it up, and hid it in a leather bag. He entered his room and found his wooden sword, but it wasn't enough. He went to his father's closet, opened it, and found a real sword, a gift from his youth. He took the sword, a leather belt, his woolen robe, and a bag containing dates and water. --- At dawn, he saddled his sluggish horse. He stood on the outskirts of the village and looked at the empty houses, the scorched trees, and the dry spring of dew. He reached out to his cheek and touched a hot tear. He whispered in a low voice, "I will find them... and bring them back." He pressed his heel against the horse's belly, and it sped off. And so the journey began.