The moonlight bathed the garden in a soft, ethereal glow, casting long shadows across the uneven terrain. Noori, her hand extended in a silent invitation, stood amidst the wild beauty, her figure illuminated by the gentle light. Dastan, his gaze fixed on her, remained seated on the grass, his expression unreadable against the backdrop of the night.
"Is your Highness feeling well already?" Noori's voice broke the silence, her words echoing in the tranquil night air. Dastan shifted his gaze, breaking eye contact with her, and slowly made his way to her side, his movements deliberate and measured.
"You speak of the heart as if you have felt the pain of its breaking," Dastan's voice resonated with depth, carrying a weight of understanding and empathy. Noori's hand fell to her side as she took a deep breath, her eyes closing in contemplation, the moonlight casting a gentle glow upon her features.
"What is the point of having one when you haven't experienced the thrill of getting it broken?" Noori's words hung in the air, the quiet intensity of her voice echoing amidst the stillness of the night. Dastan, intrigued by her question, felt a hint of curiosity seep into his voice as he spoke, "Was it someone form Nuria?" his question directed toward her, though she remained silent, lost in her own thoughts. He watched her stillness as a way of getting out from answering the question.
The cold, chilly air of the night seemed to intensify, causing Dastan's discomfort to rise once again. With no other recourse, he finally accepted the silent offer of Noori's hand, his own hand trembling slightly as he reached out to touch hers.
As Dastan's hand found hers, sending shivers up her spine, Noori remained still, her muscles tense with anticipation. Slowly, Dastan settled beside her on the grass, his hand under his head, while the other intertwined with Noori's, their connection palpable amidst the quiet beauty of the moonlit garden.
As the moments passed in the silence of the night, Noori's labored, heavy breaths gradually softened into hushed hums, filling the air with a tranquil rhythm. It seemed as though she had effortlessly drifted into a peaceful slumber, her form resting serenely against the rough grass beneath her.
Dastan, feeling the shift in her breathing pattern, turned his gaze towards her, his curiosity piqued. His eyes traced the contours of her face, softened in sleep, and he couldn't help but let out a brief laugh at the contrast between her serene rest and the discomfort of the hard ground beneath him. Despite the unforgiving surface, she lay there as if it were the most luxurious of beds.
The warmth that enveloped Dastan's body, a result of holding her hand, had chased away the chill of the night, leaving him feeling revitalized and at peace. Yet, he made no move to release her hand, relishing in the comforting connection between them. Shifting his weight slightly, he adjusted his position to better observe her, his gaze gentle and attentive as he watched over her slumber.
For what felt like an eternity, the scene remained tranquil, undisturbed by the tumultuous events unfolding beneath the surface. The wind whispered softly, its gentle caress brushing past them like the tender strokes of a lover's hand, while the faint scent of grass mingled with the fading fragrance of flowers, creating an ambiance of serene normalcy.
Amidst this peaceful tableau, Dastan's senses slowly stirred from their slumber, alerted by a subtle rustling that permeated the air. At first, it was merely a whisper on the edge of his consciousness, a faint murmur that danced at the periphery of his awareness. But as the moments passed, the realization dawned upon him with a jolt of clarity - the unmistakable scent of blood.
Confusion etched deep lines upon his brow as he took a deeper breath, attempting to confirm the unsettling revelation. "Blood?" he muttered, his voice tinged with both confusion and concern, as he gingerly lifted himself from Noori's side to scan their surroundings for the source of the crimson hue. Unaware of the hand still entwined with Noori's, he meticulously searched the area, cautious not to disturb her slumber.
Turning his gaze back to Noori, he was struck by a chilling realization - her once peaceful repose was now marred by the stark evidence of blood, staining her sleeve and seeping from her wound. With a sharp intake of breath, Dastan's features darkened with grim determination as he knelt beside her, his hands trembling slightly as he gently lifted her body into his arms, a sense of urgency propelling him forward.
"Why is she bleeding? She was fine moments ago," he muttered, his voice laced with agitation, as he carried her swiftly towards the hallway, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of assistance. Spotting a guard, he wasted no time in issuing his command, his tone laced with authority and frustration.
"Call for a physician! Now!" he barked, his voice echoing through the corridor as blood dripped steadily from Noori's body, a stark contrast against the pristine white marble floor. Despite his rising panic,
"What are you waiting for? Move!" he commanded, his frustration mounting with each passing moment, as the guards sprang into action, some rushing to fetch aid while others offered assistance. "Your Highness, let us carry the Princess," they urged, but Dastan recoiled, his expression fierce and resolute.
"Do not lay a hand on her. Prepare a room immediately," he declared, his voice firm with determination, as he cradled Noori's limp form in his arms, his heart racing with a mixture of fear and resolve. With each hurried step, he prayed for her safety, determined to unravel the mystery behind her sudden affliction.
The guards lowered their heads at Dastan's command and swiftly retreated, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor as they hastened to fulfill his orders. Dastan followed them into one of the guest rooms, his heart heavy with worry as he gently laid Noori on the bed.
"How did this happen? She was fine just moments ago," he hissed, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and frustration. The blood that stained Noori's body had also begun to paint Dastan's clothes, creating a macabre tableau of horror. His chest rose and fell angrily, his mind racing with questions and fears.
As the physician hurried to the scene, his hair disheveled and his demeanor frantic, he fell to his knees before Dastan, his words tumbling out in a rush of urgency. "I was summoned in urgency. What is the matter, Your Highness?" he inquired, oblivious to the unconscious figure lying before them. Dastan's brows furrowed in disbelief at the physician's ignorance.
"Are you blind?" he snapped, his voice cold and stern, his frustration evident. The physician gave a lazy glance in Noori's direction before turning back to Dastan with a careless shrug. "My apologies, Your Highness. I seem to have overlooked the princess," he muttered, his indifference unsettling.
Though Dastan was taken aback by the physician's lack of concern, he knew there was no time to dwell on it. "Check on her. She has lost a lot of blood. Fix it!" he commanded, his voice firm with resolve as he watched the physician begin his examination, praying silently for Noori's swift recovery.
The physician carefully tore the sleeve of Noori's dress, revealing the skin beneath, and Dastan clenched his fist as he saw the bloody bandage on her arm. With a gloved hand, the physician began to unravel the bandage, peeling it off cautiously to inspect the wound underneath. Dastan's brow furrowed with concern as he watched intently.
"It seems like her Highness has had a few injuries recently," the physician remarked, his voice grave as he examined the wound. "The wounds must have reopened after the effects of the medicine wore off."
Dastan's heart sank at the revelation, his mind racing with worry. "Is it lethal?" he asked, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.
The physician paused for a moment before responding, his expression serious. "It appears to be a severe burn wound, Your Highness. Quite serious indeed. And some other injuries."
"A burn wound causing this much blood loss?" Dastan's voice was incredulous, his disbelief evident. He took a step forward to get a closer look, feeling a wave of nausea wash over him as he beheld the gruesome sight. "How can a burn wound be so deadly?" he murmured, his voice trembling with fear. "Can they truly be this fatal?"
"The cause of the burn," Dastan repeated, his mind racing as he watched the physician tend to Noori's wound. His foot tapped anxiously on the ground as he pondered the gravity of the situation. Then, in a moment of clarity, realization dawned upon him.
"Does he mean that burn wound?" Dastan's thoughts raced, his brows furrowing deeply as he considered the implications of what he had just realized.