QUEEN WITHOUT THE CROWN

"'Sokhan!'"

Hevetta's voice cut through the busy courtyard as she spotted her son standing far too close to the fire roasting the cow's head. At the sound of her warning, Sokhan quickly stepped back and hurried to her side.

The household of Olan was alive with celebration. Clay pots simmered over open flames while children darted between the buildings of the Kajo, laughing as preparations continued for the patriarch's birthday feast.

Olan was an unusual man in the Kingdom of Qar.

Years ago, he had served as a Sekar in the royal palace, a title held only by the kingdom's most trusted protectors. But everything changed after he was falsely accused of betraying the royal family. Though the truth was eventually uncovered and the late King Zezi offered to restore his title, Olan refused.

Instead, he abandoned palace life entirely.

He chose peace over prestige, settling with his family on the outskirts of Qar, far from royal politics and the whispers of the court.

Today marked his forty-fifth birthday, and Hevetta was determined to make it memorable.

Since Olan had not yet returned from his trading journey to a neighboring kingdom, Hevetta invited her sisters and their children to help with the preparations.

Her older sister, Heeva, arrived with her three sons, Kono, Sesan, and Jaja who now worked alongside Sokhan preparing the meat for the feast. Meanwhile, her younger sister Kayut moved between chores with the calm authority of someone used to running a busy household.

Kayut lived within the same Kajo as Olan's family.

A Kajo — the Qar name for a compound made up of several homes. It was usually a symbol of wealth and status. Though Olan's was modest by the kingdom's standards, it was spacious enough for both families.

Kayut, her husband Aluko, and their seven year old daughter Azuli occupied the smaller house beside Olan's. Aluko worked as a trader alongside Olan and had once been his apprentice. The two men often traveled together beyond the borders of Qar in search of business.

Everyone in the household knew of Hevetta's plans for the celebration.

Everyone except Olan.

Amidst the laughter and smoke-filled air, Hevetta noticed Sokhan drifting dangerously close to the flames once again.

As he approached her, she smacked his shoulder lightly.

"When will you learn to be more careful?"

Sokhan rubbed his shoulder dramatically. "You worry too much, Maa. I'm not a child anymore."

"Then stop giving me reasons to worry like you are," Hevetta shot back.

She shook her head before asking, "Where is Hafeeba?"

"She went to the market with Azuli. We ran out of oil and a few other ingredients. They should be back soon."

Almost immediately after he spoke, the wooden gates of the Kajo creaked open.

Footsteps followed.

Hevetta assumed the girls had returned and gestured toward the entrance. "Go help them."

Sokhan nodded and made his way toward the gate.

But the moment he reached it, he froze.

This was no market return.

Standing beyond the entrance was a royal convoy.

The guards alone were enough to steal the breath from his lungs, but it was the empty royal carriage bearing the symbol of the palace that truly unsettled him. Behind it stood palace maids dressed in crimson silks while beside it, was the fearsome priestess Meena, and the two highest-ranking Sekars in all of Qar.

There could be no mistake.

The palace had come to their Kajo.

But why?

Why travel this far from the capital for a family that had long abandoned court life?

And more importantly...Who had they come for?

"Maa!"

Sokhan's voice cracked as he sprinted toward the back of the compound.

"What is it?" Hevetta asked, startled.

"The Dahan..." Sokhan struggled to steady his breath. "She's here."

Kayut rose to her feet so suddenly she nearly forgot the weight of her pregnancy.

"Lower your voice, you foolish boy," she hissed. "Have you no fear?"

"But, Tana, I—"

"That's enough," Hevetta interrupted firmly.

She turned back to her son, her expression tightening.

"Sokhan... this is not one of your pranks?"

"Maa," he said breathlessly, "I swear I'm telling the truth."

At this point, Hevetta seemed shaken, but somehow managed to gather herself together as she made her way toward the front of the Kajo.

As it turned out, Sokhan was not playing childish tricks.

The Dahan herself stood within Olan's compound alongside the royal convoy, rigidly rooted upon the soil of his Kajo like a divine judgment that had descended without warning.

The moment Hevetta saw her, she fell to her knees. The others followed almost instantly.

A strange heaviness swallowed the atmosphere, so thick that every bowed head seemed to lean further downward for a kiss with Mother Earth herself. For no one dared speak in the presence of the Dahan unless granted permission.

And so Olan's Kajo remained trapped beneath that suffocating cloud of fear and uncertainty, awaiting the return of its master.

⸻

Meanwhile, near the borders of Qar, Olan and Aluko guided their Torak through the bustling market roads, its heavy wheels groaning softly against the earth.

"The Orikis be praised," Olan said, his smile stretching so wide it seemed his cheeks longed to meet his ears. "We are home again."

Aluko answered with only a weak smile as he tightened his grip on the reins.

"Indeed."

Olan glanced toward him briefly before looking away again.

"You have carried a storm behind your eyes these past few days," he said gently. "Would you like to share it?"

Aluko attempted denial, though poorly enough to fool no one, especially not Olan.

Knowing his brother-in-law well, Olan chose not to press further.

"You do not have to tell me," he said warmly. "Just do not lie to me."

That familiar smile of Olan's, the kind capable of stilling chaos in a burning world, it weakened Aluko's carefully built shield of nonchalance for only a moment.

Because he carried news that would most likely break Olan's heart.

But not today. Not on his birthday.

A few moments later, Aluko suddenly tightened his grip on the reins and yanked them backward with all his strength.

The donkeys cried out sharply as the Torak lurched to a violent halt only inches before trampling little Azuli, who had appeared in front of them as suddenly as a spirit crossing realms.

Aluko's heartbeat could have been heard from a mile away as he leapt from the Torak and scooped his daughter into his arms.

Olan quickly followed behind him.

"Is she hurt?" he asked anxiously.

Without answering, Aluko placed Azuli down and inspected her frantically. The moment relief settled in, annoyance quickly took its place.

"Why are you out here alone?!" he barked.

Before Azuli could answer, a breathless Hafeeba came running toward them.

"Zuliii!" she cried. "I told you not to run!"

Olan clicked his tongue in disapproval and shot a stare of disappointment at Hafeeba before climbing back into the Torak.

"You left your little cousin alone in this crowded place?" Aluko scolded. "And what are you girls even doing here?"

"We came to buy—"

"Eeeh!" Olan snapped, cutting Hafeeba short. "I am certain there will be enough time to scrutinize this behavior once we get home. Let us leave these streets first."

The girls quietly climbed into the Torak, and together they continued their journey home.

⸻

Back in Olan's Kajo, not a soul had been granted permission to blink.

Every living matter standing on two legs remained as still as tree trunks rooted deep within the earth.

The Dahan had not spoken a single word. She simply stood there gallantly, almost embodying the sacred entities she served, staring into a nothingness no other soul could see.

High Priestess Meena was known throughout Qar for her chilling aura.

Tall, dark-skinned, and striking beyond explanation, she carried herself with a calm that felt almost inhuman. Her hair was arranged in an elaborate updo woven with gold beads and cowries that shimmered with every subtle movement.

She wore layered white ceremonial linen that flowed beautifully with the wind, the split folds of her skirt revealing pale ritual markings stretching along her legs while matching symbols traced her arms and back like sacred scripture written upon flesh itself.

In her hand rested the Zekka, a staff forged entirely from pure gold, believed to carry the spirits of the Orikis. At its peak sat a finely carved eagle, its wings frozen between stillness and flight.

Yes, the Dahan was a glorious sight to behold. But none dared.

⸻

Several more minutes passed before the sound of approaching wheels finally disturbed the dreadful silence hanging over the compound.

As the Torak neared the entrance of the Kajo, Olan's expression stiffened at the sight of palace guards stationed outside his gate.

The neighboring Kajos had sealed their doors and windows shut, fearful of witnessing what did not belong to their eyes or ears.

Once inside the compound, Aluko and the girls immediately joined the others on their knees.

Only Olan remained standing.

Even then, his head stayed lowered in respect before the Dahan.

At last, Meena moved.

She tilted her head downward slightly, her cold eyes settling upon Olan like frost upon dying leaves.

"The Orikis have found you worthy, Olan," she said.

Her voice was soft, yet it carried through the Kajo with terrifying authority.

"They have chosen to dwell with you... and you cannot refuse them."

She struck the Zekka against the earth and the heavens answered instantly with a violent roar.

"Olan," she continued in that haunting whisper-like voice, "the Orikis hid their treasure with you. Where is it?"

"Great Dahan," Olan answered almost breathlessly, "I know nothing of this treasure the gods seek. When I left the capital, I abandoned all vanities with it. I possess no treasures."

A dry chuckle escaped Meena's lips.

"Lift your head, Olan, and look around you."

Slowly, he obeyed.

"Do you think so little of the Orikis," she asked, "that you believe they would send their Dahan across Qar in search of measly jewelry and stones?"

"Forgive me, Great Dahan," Olan murmured immediately.

Without another word, Meena stepped away from him.

The air itself seemed to tighten as she walked toward the kneeling members of the household one after another.

Then suddenly,

She stopped.

Directly before Hafeeba.

The priestess crouched slowly, her eyes scanning the only member of Olan's household bold enough to look directly into hers.

"Aaahhh..." she whispered softly, yet powerfully.

"The treasure."

She extended her hand and gently pulled the young girl to her feet.

"What is your name, child?"

With a voice soft, steady, and strangely unafraid, Hafeeba answered:

"I am called Hafeeba."