Chapter 1
The room smelled of rich perfume and sweat. Amir lay beside the well-off woman, her breathing still heavy from their activity. She wasn’t the worst client he’d had, but she wasn’t the best either. He stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the paint, his mind already on his next move.
“Here.” Her voice broke the silence as she pulled herself from the bed, throwing him a pouch heavy with coins. “Take it and leave before my husband gets home.”
Amir nodded, slipping out of bed without a word. He took the pouch, weighing it in his hand. Not bad for a morning’s work. The woman had already begun dressing, muttering something about her afternoon appointments and the need for discretion.
As she disappeared into the adjoining room, his gaze shifted to her vanity, the glint of gold catching his eye. He moved carefully, silent as a shadow. It wasn’t the first time he’d scavenged a few extra valuables. His clients always had something they wouldn’t miss, and today would be no different.
He opened a drawer, rifling through silk scarves, jeweled trinkets, and ornate bottles of perfume. His fingers brushed against something heavier—a ring. He picked it up, admiring its intricate design, a silver band with strange, ancient symbols carved into the surface. It didn’t look like it belonged to the woman, not her style. This had to be her husband’s.
He smirked, slipping the ring into his pocket, alongside a few extra coins and a silver brooch. They wouldn’t miss it. They never did.
Quickly, he closed the drawer, straightening the items to cover his tracks. Just as he turned to leave, he heard the woman’s voice again from the next room, her footsteps approaching.
“Don’t linger,” she called out. “He’ll be here any minute.”
“I’m already gone,” he murmured to himself as he slipped out of the room and down the narrow stairwell, the pouch of coins jingling softly with each step.
*
The streets were bustling with life, but Amir kept his head down, moving quickly through the crowds. He headed toward the far end of town, to the poorer district where his next client awaited. A city guard, strong and well-fed from bribes and backroom deals. Amir had been with him before, and while the arrangement was purely transactional, it was easier than dealing with the rich. They always expected too much.
He fingered the ring in his pocket as he walked. There was something odd about it. It wasn’t just the design, there was a strange warmth to the metal, even though it had been lying untouched in that drawer. He shrugged it off. Probably just his imagination.
At the edge of the marketplace, he paused, glancing up at the city walls where the guard would be waiting. He’d promised extra coin this time, something Amir could never pass up. The hunger in his stomach growled, reminding him that it wasn’t just greed driving him… it was survival.
As he approached the guardhouse, a voice, faint and distant, whispered in his mind. Amir froze, his hand unconsciously clutching the ring in his pocket. He looked around, but the street was noisy, filled with merchants and passersby.
The voice whispered again, low and compelling, but he couldn’t make out the words being said. He frowned, his fingers tightening around the ring’s smooth surface. Something was different about this job, something he couldn’t yet place.
But for now, there was work to be done, and he pushed the strange sensation to the back of his mind. There would be time to wonder about the ring later after he collected his next payment.
Amir moved through the crowd like a ghost, every step calculated, every glance suspicious. He couldn’t afford to be careless. The guardhouse loomed ahead, tucked against the outer wall of the city. His heartbeat quickened. The guard was always rough, his touch bruising and impatient, but it was the only way to make enough coin without attracting attention.
The ring in his pocket hummed again, a soft warmth against his skin, but Amir ignored it. He had more pressing matters to deal with.
As he approached the alley beside the guardhouse, the familiar figure of the city guard came into view. Broad-shouldered, leather armour worn but well-maintained, the guard leaned against the wall with a smug grin.
“Took you long enough,” the guard growled, his eyes raking over Amir.
Amir said nothing. He knew the routine, and words weren’t necessary. Without ceremony, the guard grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the shadows behind the building. His grip was tight, painful even, but he didn’t flinch. He’d learned not to. Instead, he focused on the alley wall, the cold stone pressing against his cheek as the guard roughly handled him, as he always did.
There was no tenderness, no kindness. Just force and impatience. Amir’s mind wandered, detached from the moment. He wasn’t here—not really. His body was, but his thoughts were elsewhere. On the bread he’d buy afterward, the small moment of peace he’d have, and maybe, just maybe, a little sleep.
It was over quickly. The guard tossed a pouch of coins at Amir’s feet, his breath still heavy. “There. Extra, like I promised,” he sneered.
Amir didn’t move at first, his body still pressed against the cold wall. The taste of bile rose in his throat as the guard’s words echoed. Extra. It left a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he couldn’t refuse it. He needed the money.
He bent down, grabbing the pouch without a word. His hand brushed the ring in his pocket again, the metal warmer now, almost pulsing, but he ignored it. His focus was on leaving. Now.
Amir made his way through the marketplace, keeping his head down. The scent of fresh bread and ripe fruit filled the air, a reminder of what he could afford now. He stopped by the baker’s stall, handing over a few coins for a loaf of bread. The woman behind the counter smiled warmly, but Amir didn’t meet her eyes. He never did.
Next, he bought a handful of fruit, careful not to spend too much. Every coin was precious, and the extra money from the guard would stretch only so far.
With the bread and fruit tucked under his arm, he moved toward the outskirts of the city, to the broken-down, abandoned house he called home. It wasn’t much, just crumbling walls and a leaky roof, but it was better than sleeping on the streets.
He stepped inside, the familiar scent of dust and decay greeting him. He sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, and pulled out the bread. His stomach growled, but the food tasted like ash in his mouth. Each bite felt heavier than the last.
As he finished the bread, his fingers traced the edge of the ring, the strange warmth from before now more insistent. He could feel the weight of it, not just on his hand but in his chest, a silent pressure that seemed to grow with each passing minute.
The fruit sat untouched beside him as Amir let his head fall back against the wall. The familiar ache in his chest returned, the emptiness settling in like an old friend.
Tears welled in his eyes, uninvited but unstoppable. His vision blurred as he stared at the ceiling, the rotting beams above him a reminder of how far he’d fallen. How alone he was.
There was no one to care if he lived or died. No one waiting for him. No one to pull him from this place.
He choked back a sob, his breath shaky as the tears finally fell. Amir’s hand curled into a fist, the ring pressing into his palm painfully, but he barely noticed.
‘What would it matter if I disappeared? If I just... ceased to exist?’
The ring pulsed in his hand, a soft, rhythmic thrum that seemed to echo the beat of his heart. For the first time, Amir glanced down at it, his vision still blurred with tears. Something inside the ring seemed to shift, a faint glow flickering beneath the surface.
He frowned, wiping his eyes, his breath hitching. The warmth of the ring was stronger now, almost comforting. He couldn’t explain it, but for a moment, just a moment, the emptiness in his chest felt... less crushing.
But it was fleeting, like everything else in his life. Just another illusion.
