Chapter One: The Call to Adventure

Past the threshold of the ordinary world, the travelers found only wasted and dying lands. The farther they traveled beyond the Last Oasis of Jerusalem, the harder their journey became. Water became more and more scarce, and despite Felix's management of their provisions, they were thirsty and hungry. The run-in with the Mongols had robbed them of their companions and horses, and it seemed more and more likely they would come to a bad end.

Nevertheless, they pressed and came to the Foothills of Cyrus. Here they chanced upon a spring and drank deeply. After they filled their waterskins, William washed his long flaxen hair and toned body of the sand and grime as best he could. Felix did the same, and finally, they rested at the edge of that supposedly magical realm.

Felix's red eyes looked at William keenly as he sharpened his sword. His long, black hair had grown out over the journey, and he had a fresh scar above his dark brow. William matched his gaze as he checked his own weapon.

"William, what are we doing in the land of Sharaman?" asked Felix suddenly.

William sighed, though he admitted that Felix's words mirrored his doubts. "Felix, you were there when we made this decision."

"We didn't make any decision, William," said Felix, raising the sword. "You decided you wanted to come over here to the legendary palace of a god. So I followed.

"I'm just your shadow, remember?"

Ah, the Shadow.

That was what Father's men had taken to calling Felix. They'd grown up together in the lands of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. It was a title Felix seemed to at once dislike and embrace. Once they'd been far closer before William had taken on the responsibilities of adulthood.

They had been inseparable for years. But William was always the one who spoke, while Felix remained to the side. Always ready to tell William what he needed to hear, or scurry away into the night to deliver a message.

"The palace is of no interest to me, Felix," admitted William. "And it isn't a god out there.

"Sharaman is nothing more than the barbarian god of a heathen culture. At best, he's likely a demon who led the people astray. Or perhaps he was merely their interpretation of Christ before we arrived."

"Yes, I'm certain the slaughter at Jerusalem did much to endear the locals to the faith," noted Felix. Felix was of noble blood, perhaps nobler among his own people than William. And yet whatever titles he had held were destroyed amidst the slaughter of Jerusalem. His life was only spared because of Father's pity.

"Father tried to reign that in," said William, remembering a thousand different muttering about economic policy. "And if it hadn't been God's will, he would have succeeded.

"And anyway, that all happened before you or I were born."

"It happened on the day I was born, actually," said Felix.

"Oh, yes, well, I was near enough the mark," said William, standing up and looking the way they'd come. He could see nothing but sand and crags, save perhaps the faintest bits of green in the distance. How far had they come in so short a time? It was like they were in a different world. "Anyway, this is all beside the point. Sharaman, as he is portrayed in the legends, did not exist. It's most likely that he was an accomplished war leader inspired by God, who was later exaggerated to being a god.

"Much as what happened with Thor and Odin. They were great heroes inspired by God, and demons deceived people into worshipping them as Gods. Just read the Heliand." Father had always obsessed over education.

Felix scoffed. "Alright, so let's say that all this is true. Why are we looking for the palace?"

William shifted, admitting to himself that he was wearing at least some masks. "...I want to see the place, to be honest. I've always loved ancient architecture. You remember the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem? And also, this land has become incredibly barren and hostile, and no much can understand why."

"I remember, William," said Felix. "I was there in the border village with you when you were told that. And that happened after you decided to go."

"Why have you been complaining so much lately, Felix?" asked William, losing patience.

"We've had nothing but bad luck since we started this journey, William," said Felix. "That caravan we tagged along with was attacked by Mongols in the crags. And the ones who weren't killed there were wiped out by a sandstorm.

"It's a miracle we survived at all."

"And that miracle would not have happened if God did not have some greater purpose for us here," said William, looking to his cross. "Therefore we ought to continue on."

"Or, perhaps, God wanted you to stay away from whatever it is that sits near those ruins," noted Felix.

"If so, he would surely have sent us a sign," replied William.

"Is the sandstorm and ambush by Mongols not sign enough?" asked Felix.

"That might be a good argument if there wasn't a greater threat here," said William. "But there is.

"All kinds of droughts have been spreading throughout the surrounding lands in the past few years. Several Oasis have disappeared in my lifetime. And when I checked the records, it said that this has been happening for generations.

"Babylon has had a radius of blight spreading out from it for generations. As if some demon is cursing the place. If there really is something out here, we ought to drive it out."

"So why not bring a priest?" asked Felix.

"I..." Father did not trust the church not to botch everything. He'd held a deep loathing for the Pope ever since he'd journeyed to Rome. William remembered stories of vast palaces built over starving beggars. "Well, I admit, I received a vision some days before we set out. I saw an... indescribably beautiful maiden, and she bade me come to her rescue, alone."

"You want to see the Princess don't you?" asked Felix suddenly.

"Of course not," said William, too quickly for his own liking. "It's obvious that the Princess doesn't really exist, or not as they imagine her. But I'd been thinking about coming out here to see what was going on and I'd just put it from my mind.

"Then she appeared.

"Visions don't happen for no reason. I think she might have been an angel, and when I spoke with the Bishop, he agreed. So, here I am alone."

Felix blinked. "...You know I'm standing right here, don't you?"

William smiled. "You're my shadow, you don't count."

Felix actually laughed at that, and William found himself joining in. "Right, right, obviously. I suppose you'll need me if we run into any more Mongols."

"I more than accounted for myself in that battle," replied William. "And I got myself out."

"No, I led them into quicksand while we were running from them," said Felix. "That does not count as 'getting yourself' out of anything."

"I killed three of them before our retreat," said William. "And I only did so after the rest of them had fled." Looking at his own, black sword, William turned it around and sheathed it. "In any case, traveling through dark and unknown territory alone is pure idiocy. I'm certain Lord Jesus will forgive me for taking a partner. Even he needed disciples, after all."

They rested for a time, ate a brief meal, and continued their journey. Scaling through the rocky hills, they found themselves heading gradually higher. The terrain got rough, and they had to scale by hand and foot at several points. Even so, they pressed on, following maps that William had brought.

At last, they came to the top.

William stood at the edge of the last hill and saw a vast palace before them. It had immense domes, and the towers soared into the sky, higher than the hills. There were wide windows on the towers and huge walls. And though they were ages old, it was as pristine and beautiful as though it had been built yesterday.

"That..." William shut his jaw. "Is that the castle?"

"It... it can't possibly..." Felix shuddered. "Krak Des Chevalierswas a fraction of this thing's size! How could any mortal man create such a thing! God himself would sweat to set one of those stones on top of another!"

"God cannot be tested," said William. "Let's see what we can find."

Down they journeyed into the foothills and toward the castle. Yet as they drew nearer to the hill on which it stood, William began to realize something. It was much farther away than he'd thought. And the hill it took upon was no hill at all but a mountain. Higher and higher, it loomed over them so that soon they could hardly see the top when they craned their neck. The morning light yielded to afternoon and then dusk, and still they had not reached it.

And yet the land here was dead.

Before, there were signs of life, here and there. Stray patches of grass, of lizards, but not here. Every stone was barren of moss. Not one tree could be seen in any direction. No one had lived in this place for ages.

With every step, William became more and more overawed. This place...

He almost believed it would take a god to make it. For what ruler could waste this kind of resources on so huge a structure. An army of ten thousand men could not line the walls of this place. How was it possible that no one had found this place?

And yet, though he felt terror, his legs seemed to move of his own accord. Some presence drew him and Felix on. Neither one said a word, but they, at last, had reached the gates.

The greatest of siege weapons could not have dented this defense. And it stood tall and shut.

"... We'll have to climb it to get inside," said William. "I doubt anyone will answer if we knock."

"Perceptive, are you not." said a guttural voice. "You've made a powerful enemy."

William and Felix whirled around, drawing their swords and froze at what they saw. Before themappeared six men. But these men were not alive. Their flesh was pale and preserved as if with salt like the Egyptians did of old. Their eyes were flaring with light, and they wore fine silken garments, bearing long, curved swords.

Just looking at them made William's body freeze. Felix had fallen to one knee, gasping, and it was all William could do to gaze upon them. His mind was a chamber of screaming as more of the things came from around. But he kept his composure and kept his sword up.

"Stand up, Felix," said William, wanting to cower, but refusing to so degrade his house. "The dead walk among us. Who are you? And what have we done to bring your enmity?"

Forward came an immense corpse, thicker of body and also fatter, but carrying a huge sword. "I am the Captain of the Guard, and you have won the heart of the Princess. Since she remains the only obstacle to Lord Jaffar's plans, that leaves you in an unfortunate position.

"Take them."

The dead surged forward. William swung his sword, but they came at him all at once. Born down by their freezing hands, William's sword was pulled from his grasp. Struggling against their unholy strength, he was overcome and captured.

The myth began again.

The Princess looked around her royal chambers, so familiar and so lonely. For so long, she had waited for so many heroes. And yet, each one had, in one way or another, proved unworthy in the pursuit. Even so, she appreciated their efforts, and by the very act of trying, they ensured the war went on.

Every one of them were heroes.

But none just yet had been her Prince.

As he always did, Jafar came through the door. The Princess turned to him as he walked forward. He alone of the mortals within this place was not a corpse. Once he had been very handsome, but those days were ancient and long past. His beard was gray now, and the violet trappings of royalty did not become him.

"Jaffar, you've returned." said the Princess.

She had high hopes for this particular hero.

"Yes, I have," said Jafar, smiling politely. "Yet more sacrifices have arrived to be cast into oblivion. I had hoped you'd see reason after all this."

"See reason?" asked the Princess. "You've drained the very life out of the lands around us to fuel your power. Surely you must realize that your self-destructive actions will only bring ruin to yourself and others.

"It wounds me to see you so consumed by pride and hubris."

Jafar narrowed his eyes. "You are not one to speak, Princess. I must prevent any more heroes from casting their lives into your fire. At the rate I was killing them before I drained the life, I've probably saved more lives than I've ended.

"And I will need an army when you submit to me at last.

"Even now, the flow of heroes is gradually slowing. And I am already Lord of this World."

"But not all worlds." said the Princess, feeling sorry for him. His pride had truly blinded him. "You haven't won the wager yet, Jaffar. And so you do not have my hand. So long as there remains a hero to stand against you, the battle continues to wage."

"And so we begin again," said Jaffar, voice laced with contempt. And he moved his hands outward. As he did, the Princess stepped backward as the hourglass appeared. "Marry me, or die within the hour."

She wasn't actually afraid of him anymore. Her actions were a reflex, almost a formality. But Jaffar turned to walk away. "You'll never receive your answer, Jaffar. It's in the nature of this world to fail."

Jaffar halted and looked back. "Truly?

"Well then, let me ask you this. How many more must die in the vain hope of becoming Prince of Persia?"

As many as was necessary, of course. They were the heroes, after all.

Author's Note:

Prince of Persia is one of the greatest video game series of all time, and I don't say that lightly. Sands of Time was the first Prince of Persia game I ever played and it was magnificent in every sense of the word. And, now that I've just finished the original game, I've come to realize something.

Prince of Persia is, fundamentally, a mythology.

The original game is the prototype for every single good Prince of Persia.

To illustrate my point, which game am I describing?

The Prince is thrust into a situation beyond his control. He must seek out a weapon of some kind in order to defeat his enemies. He then goes on a journey to save a Princess and comes into conflict with an evil Vizier who is also a sorcerer. Eventually, he fights the Vizier, kills him, saves the Princess, and restores peace to the land.

Which game am I describing?

Well, I can list the ones I'm not describing. Warrior Within and the 2008 Prince of Persia. I.E, the ones that killed the franchise.

This is not to say that innovation cannot be good. Sands of Time is, fundamentally, the same story as the original Prince of Persia. And yet it is regarded as incredibly creative. It looks at the story from a different perspective and gives names and faces to characters. The Shadow becomes the Dark Prince, the Princess becomes Farah. The hourglass becomes the Hourglass of Time.

Which brings me to this fic.

This fic is not meant to be a subversion or a deconstruction of Prince of Persia. My goal is to make dark reinvention of that myth while also serving as a legitimate novelization of the original game. For context, my version of Prince of Persia is the one with the blonde, european hero.