Chapter 1
Every beginning hides an ending, and every ending is nothing but the seed of a new beginning. Between heaven’s mercy and hell’s fire, destiny weaves its threads, binding the chosen one to a path of sacrifice and power. This is not merely a tale of angels and demons—it is the story of courage, betrayal, and the eternal struggle for freedom Once upon a time, in an age long forgotten, beyond the deserts of Baghdad, there lay a small oasis—silent, timeless, and sacred. The elders used to whisper an ancient tale: of a war that once raged between angels and demons on that very land.
It was said that after the battle was won, one of the angels fell by a palm tree near the oasis. Days turned into months, and the wounded being lingered there, hidden from the eyes of men.
One fateful day, a grand royal caravan arrived, filled with guards and adorned camels carrying veiled women in silk curtains. Their leader, Jaafar—the head of the royal guards—commanded the caravan to rest by the oasis.
Among the maidens was a young woman with unmatched beauty. She covered one eye with a shawl, yet the glow of her gaze could not be concealed, nor the cascade of her dark hair that slipped from beneath her veil. Her name was Yaqouta, the princess. She sat beneath a palm tree, waiting for her maid, Yasmin, to bring her water.
But then—a sound. A weak, desperate sound, like the cry of something dying. Brave at heart, Yaqouta rose and followed it. What she found made her heart ache: a small white tiger cub, its body bloodied and trembling, its glow strange and unearthly.
Without hesitation, she removed her shawl, pressing it against the wound, whispering softly as though her words could heal him. Despite the protests of the guards, she ordered the cub to be taken with her to the palace.
When the tiger opened its eyes, he found himself lying in the lap of the princess, her hands gently stroking his fur, her warmth wrapping around him.
The caravan returned to the palace in triumph, yet Yaqouta’s heart was not with the celebration. That night, she hid the cub in her chambers, laying him in her bed, covering him with silken pillows. At dusk, she returned with food, honey water, and new bandages for his wounds. Though the cub was not tame and often pulled away from her touch, she persisted, her kindness unshaken.
But when dawn came, the bed was empty. Panic rose in her chest—until her eyes fell upon the balcony. What she saw there froze her breath and stole the words from her lips
