Time.
Some say that time is like a river, flowing straight and true, never veering from the current.
Others say that time is like an ocean, everchanging and unstable, the events in the timeline rocking like fishboats in a storm.
They are wrong.
The truth is, time is a violent sandstorm, uncaring and unstoppable, destroying kingdoms and empires in its path alike, enveloping fates of the people like small grains in an all-encompassing desert.
"Zahra!", a shout can be heard in the distance. "Zaaaahra!"
A man calls for his companion, lost in a sandstorm, which are all too frequent in the desert he's travelling through. His vision is obscured by the sand whirling around him, and so, he doesn't notice the precipice until it's too late, until he slips, tumbling down into the canyon below, his shout interrupted mid-word.
He lands on his feet, like he always does in the recent years, his reflexes honed by years of experience.
"I'm going to feel that for a long time," the man mutters in complaint addressed to no one in particular, and proceeds to briefly shake himself down from the dust and dirt of the sandstorm above.
"Zaaaahra?", he shouts, lowering his voice slightly as it echoes from the walls of the canyon. He sighs in exasperation, silently admitting to himself that will never find "that stupid donkey".
"...Well, as good a place to start as any," the man shrugs, thinking how he is going to find the donkey. "Might as well look for a way out while I'm at it."
Next time you decide to make a trip, you should probably change your destination to something that isn't "off a cliff".
"Shut up," he mutters to himself.
He leisurely traverses the canyon, easily clearing the gaps and pitfalls, sometimes clinging to the walls with his gauntlet and sometimes climbing the steep cliffs of the canyon. When he finally reaches a clearing, he is stunned by the view in front of him.
"This is the second most impressive view I've seen in my entire life," he whistles casually, impressed by the magnificence of the grand tree in the distance that seems to be scratching the skies themselves.
The soles of her bare feet hurt, but the girl doesn't slow down. She realizes that she somehow managed to shake off the pursuit of her former servants, if only momentarily, but if she doesn't hurry, her father will reach the Temple before her.
She simply can't afford it, not with the fate of the world at stakes, and so the girl goes for the shortest and riskiest route possible, the magic of Ormazd flowing in her veins adding a spring in her step and aiding her in her jumps. She feels light and full of energy, as if she could fly if she tried, and this simple joy only adds to her guilty conscience.
"My father should've never done what he did," she whispers quietly.
When the girl reaches the clearing that leads to the Temple Grounds, she stops abruptly in cautious surprise.
She sees a man, surrounded by her father's guards, wearing a sparse outfit of jacket, pants and sandals, accentuated by two vividly colorful scarves on his head. Her attention shifts slightly to the man's left arm that is muscular, covered in scars obscured by an intricate golden tattoo, his hand hidden in a metal gauntlet that looks like it has seen better days.
It seems like neither the man, nor her father guards have noticed her yet. She takes this chance to try to slip through unnoticed.
"Where is she, stranger?", one of the guards asks impatiently, holding the stranger at spearpoint. "Where is the princess?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, no need to get hasty, gentlemen," the man says cheerfully, his hand simultaneously slipping onto the sword's grip, ready to take it out of the sheath at moment's notice. "I don't even know what princess you are talking about. I mean, I've met my fair share of princesses over the course of my life, but-"
"We don't have time for this, stranger. Where is princess Elika?", the guard repeats himself menacingly.
"Look, I'm just trying to find my donkey. Answers to 'Zahra', about this tall, has a bag on her back full of gold and the cutest tail you've ever seen?", the man says, the cheer in his voice unfaltering.
"I think he is stalling for time for the princess to reach the Tree of Life," another guard says abruptly. "We should subdue and interrogate him properly."
"And I thought this was going so well," the man says casually, retrieving his sword out of the sheath.
The ensuing fight is intense, but short. The stranger easily dispatches the guards, the last of them turning tail and fleeing when he sees his comrades fail.
The man briefly glances at his handiwork - one of the guards bearing a painful, but ultimately inconsequential slash of the sword, while the other guard wincing in intense pain, pierced by the gauntlet.
"It doesn't always need to end in bloodshed," the man notes in satisfaction. "If only you believed me the first time, eh?"
Oh, boohoo, cry me a river. While you are being all buddy-buddy with them, do you realize they would happily stab you in the back if opportunity presented itself?
"Shut up, I said," he says automatically, a well-ingrained reflex by this point. "The Tree of Life, huh? Let's see what all the racket is all about, shall we?"
