Chapter One:

News of Engagement and the visit of an unexpected visitor

-The Engagement News-

He sat at the dark, mahogany desk in a room flooded with darkness, blankly staring at the gold-plated band helplessly lying in his hands. His pale, thick fingers fidgeted clumsily with the tiny object, repeatedly putting it on, then carelessly throwing it off. His black hair fell wildly in his face, covering his mystical green eyes. What am I doing? He asked himself. This isn't love. This is want, greed. His mind was the one thing that kept him from doing the wrong, the unexplainable.

Suddenly, without warning, the door furiously swung open, revealing a rather stout man, with curly red hair. He had rough bits of red hair littered across his face, which contrasted perfectly to his endless blue eyes.

"Married!" He yelled, his voice scratched. "My Hasani, married!" With arms outspread he ran over to the dark shadow willowing in the blackened corner, sitting helplessly at the desk. Hasani did not bother to raise his head; he just kept his gaze upon the golden object in his hands.

"Yes, Paki." He silently whispered. "I am to be wed." His voice drew off into the distance, barely able to hear over the voices of the night that surrounded them.

Paki silently squatted next to Hasani, compassionately placing his hand upon his shoulder. Paki could see his discomfort and being the true friend he was, felt empathy for him. Hasani's pain was his pain, his sorrow shared only by his own soul. He was too loyal to Hasani, too loyal for his own good.

"Cheer up, Hasani! You are to be wed to the Queen!" He stood, waving his hands with vigor above his head. "You are to be King of Egypt!" Hasani shook his head in pity. He was almost disgusted by Paki's enthusiasm, his excitement over the whole topic.

Finally, painfully, Hasani lifted his head to look his friend in the eyes, his deep, blue, ocean-like eyes. He instantly became lost within them. He found himself sailing through the river of the Nile, flowing freely up stream, without a care to be found. No fears of commitment phased him. No pain of the new alarmed him. Just the sounds of the waves, of the creatures blessed his ears. His body didn't ache with pain, mental or physical, only the soothing breeze snapped at his face. The sun shone heavily from behind the darkened clouds, shining upon his face, warming it with instant heat.

"Is this what I need, Paki? Is this the right thing to do?" His eyes wandered back to the ring in his palms. The single band, so small, so inadequate, but symbolizing so much. How could this tiny thing cause so much fear, so much confusion? Paki once more placed his hand lovingly upon Hasani's shoulder.

"You have nothing to fear, my friend. Queen Layla is the perfect woman." He tightened his grip upon his shoulder slightly. "She is beautiful, intelligent, and a wonderful leader." Hasani looked up again at Paki, who was staring blankly at the opposite wall. Tears seemed to be welling in his eyes. "You will be happy." He whispered finally.

Hasani stood, taking Paki in his arms. "My friend, you have no reason to worry. I will not forget you." He pulled him closer, brushing a single fiery red curl from his face. "Once I am king, I shall grant you a high position. Not only will I be happy, but so shall you. You needn't worry." Hasani pulled Paki into a strong embrace, wrapping his arms fully around the stout man. Paki returned the gesture and squeezed his friend with love and care. He loved him, he really did, and he would never let him go. Just seeing him happy, or viewing his destiny from afar was enough to light his world. Enough to allow him to live with a smile upon his face for ages.

They pulled apart, gazing each other in the eyes, locked within each other's stares. Then, without any indication of what he was doing, Hasani slid the golden band upon his finger. His eyes were stern and certain as he did it, and this filled Paki with great fear. Fear for what was happening, and what was beginning to happen. He could see the fire buried deep within Hasani's eyes. He could sense the darkness buried deep within his soul. And when that was released, there is no telling the evil that would follow.

-A New Visitor-

Her fingers were sore, bruised with pain. Blood unwillingly poured from the gash on her palm and she desperately dabbed at it with her linens, for she knew what undoubtedly happened to those who bled before the Queen. She had known all too well. Her companion, working hard, to the bone in fact being carried away from her. His screams still echoing through her mind. Those soldiers grabbing at his arms, forcing them apart, tearing him away from her. And the Queen, watching as the painful event took place. Her eyes full of hunger, of evil. She seemed to be foaming at the mouth, but nothing came from her. She was evil and took no mercy upon them.

She scrubbed the floor ever harder, still attempting to hide the blood that flowed from her hand. She quickly and clumsily wrapped it in her apron, which had turned from white, to red in a matter of seconds. She dare not leave her position for fear of being caught. She would have to hide it, stop the bleeding. She pressed the fabric harder against the wound, willing it to stop. Please, Please. I beg of you, please stop bleeding. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes, they were beginning to glaze her irises.

With a startling rumble a voice from behind her frightened her. "My dear, are you alright?" The voice was sweet, innocent and she timidly turned to face the voice. There stood an old, shrunken woman, quite possibly in her eighties. She fell to her knees beside her, inching ever closer. The woman compassionately reached out her trembling hands to take her own.

"Tell me your name, my dear." Her voice was commanding, yet had a sort of love in it. Frightened out of her wits, she opened her mouth.

"Nalhifa." She muttered, stumbling heavily over her own words. She brushed back a piece of her midnight black hair, while still pressing the clothing against the bleeding wound.

"You must let it be hit with air, my dear. Do not suffocate it." She slowly unwrapped the wound and raised it towards the ceiling. Blood poured heavily out of the gash and down Nalhifa's arm. It was one, red river flowing down her wrist, and coursing all the way down her arm. She shuttered and watched as it did so. Then, without warning it stopped. The wound seized its bleeding and only dried, chalk-like blood remained visible.

With amazement filling her eyes, Nalhifa gazed at the wound, which was merely a scratch at this point. "Th-Thank you." She stuttered. "Thank you so much, how could I ever repay you?" She looked up suddenly, with a snap of her neck. Her long strands of hair flung backwards, and her black eyes shot up to where the woman had been. But she was gone, completely gone. Her form was no longer there, it had dispersed entirely. She stood, glanced around and found no one. With a shutter, she lowered herself back down to the floor, tore off her blood-stained apron and returned to her work.