Episode 6
858 Words
The Mark of the Falcon
The first rays of dawn painted the Imperial Palace in gold.
Yet no one admired its beauty.
The smell of smoke still lingered in the air.
Servants silently swept away the ashes from the burned archives while soldiers guarded every entrance with drawn swords.
The palace had become a fortress overnight.
Arzoo hadn't slept.
She stood near the carved window, watching the servants clean the courtyard below.
A soft knock echoed through her chamber.
Before she could answer, Captain Hamza entered.
He bowed respectfully.
"Lady Arzoo."
"His Majesty requests your presence."
She sighed.
"Does the Emperor ever sleep?"
Hamza allowed himself a faint smile.
"Not when someone is trying to overthrow his empire."
Moments later...
Arzoo entered the Imperial Library.
Unlike the grand archives that had burned, this chamber was hidden deep inside the palace.
Only the emperor possessed its key.
Thousands of ancient books lined the towering shelves.
Maps covered the walls.
At the center of the room...
Emperor Zayan stood before a massive wooden table.
Without looking up, he spoke.
"Close the door."
The heavy door shut behind her.
For the first time...
They were completely alone.
"You wished to see me."
"I did."
He pushed an old scroll across the table.
"What do you know about the Falcon Dynasty?"
Arzoo frowned.
"Very little."
"My father said it ruled before the Mirza family."
"And?"
"He never spoke of it again."
The emperor nodded.
"Because speaking of them became treason."
She looked at him in surprise.
"Treason?"
"The Falcon Dynasty vanished twenty years ago."
"Officially."
He paused.
"But history rarely tells the whole truth."
He unrolled another parchment.
It contained portraits of past emperors and queens.
One painting immediately caught Arzoo's attention.
A young empress.
Elegant.
Graceful.
Her emerald eyes seemed almost alive.
Arzoo stared.
"...She looks familiar."
The emperor watched her carefully.
"She should."
"Why?"
"Because..."
"...she looks exactly like you."
Silence filled the library.
Arzoo slowly turned toward him.
"That's impossible."
"The painting is more than twenty years old."
"I wasn't even born."
"Were you not?"
His question struck her like lightning.
Before she could respond...
The library doors burst open.
Captain Hamza hurried inside.
"Forgive the interruption, Your Majesty."
"What happened?"
"A prisoner has requested to see Lady Arzoo."
The emperor frowned.
"Who?"
Hamza swallowed.
"The former Royal Archivist."
Arzoo's eyes widened.
"The old scholar?"
"I thought he died."
"So did everyone else."
Deep beneath the palace...
The prison smelled of damp stone and rust.
Torches flickered against the walls.
The former Royal Archivist sat inside a tiny cell.
His white beard reached his chest.
Chains bound both wrists.
The moment he saw Arzoo...
Tears filled his tired eyes.
"Praise be..."
"You survived."
Arzoo stepped closer.
"You know me?"
"I knew your father."
The emperor remained silent.
Watching.
Listening.
The old man slowly reached through the iron bars.
With trembling fingers...
He grabbed Arzoo's wrist.
The sleeve of her dress slipped slightly.
Everyone froze.
Just below her wrist...
A tiny golden birthmark shimmered beneath the torchlight.
It resembled a falcon spreading its wings.
The old scholar gasped.
"The Mark..."
"It still exists."
Captain Hamza instinctively stepped backward.
The emperor's face became unreadable.
Arzoo looked down in confusion.
"I've had this birthmark since childhood."
The old man began to laugh.
Not with joy...
But with relief.
"I knew it..."
"I knew they failed."
The emperor stepped forward.
"Explain."
The scholar met his gaze.
"The Falcon Queen gave birth before she died."
Silence.
"The child lived."
Another silence.
"And Lord Ashraf..."
"...risked everything to hide her."
Arzoo felt the world spinning around her.
"No..."
"No, that's impossible."
"My father was only a noble."
The old scholar shook his head.
"No."
"He was the Queen's most loyal guardian."
"And he raised you..."
"...as his own daughter."
The prison fell deathly quiet.
Arzoo couldn't breathe.
Every memory.
Every secret.
Every unanswered question...
Suddenly fit together.
Before anyone could speak again—
A sharp whistle echoed through the prison.
The emperor's instincts reacted instantly.
"Down!"
He pulled Arzoo toward him.
A crossbow bolt flew through the cell window.
It struck the old scholar directly in the chest.
Blood splattered across the stone floor.
Captain Hamza shouted,
"Seal the prison!"
"Find the assassin!"
Guards rushed in every direction.
The old scholar struggled to breathe.
He reached weakly toward Arzoo.
"Listen..."
"They're searching for..."
He coughed violently.
"The..."
His hand fell lifelessly to the ground.
He died before finishing the sentence.
Arzoo stared in horror.
Another witness...
Silenced.
Again.
The emperor slowly stood.
His jaw tightened.
Someone inside the palace knew every move he made.
Someone had reached the prison before they had.
He looked toward the tiny prison window.
The assassin had vanished.
Then...
His eyes fell upon something lying beneath the dead scholar's hand.
A small piece of black silk.
Embroidered with a silver crescent.
The emperor picked it up.
His expression darkened.
Captain Hamza looked at the cloth.
His face turned pale.
"Your Majesty..."
"I know that symbol."
"So do I."
The emperor closed his fist around the silk.
"It belongs..."
"...to someone inside the Imperial Family."
— End of Chapter 6 —
- Writer
