Surin's eyes narrowed against the harsh Persian sun, but his gaze never left the woman before him, the reason he braved these dangerous voyages at all. Mira stood with her head lowered, hands trembling, fear and love mixing in her eyes.
He pulled her into a tight embrace, his spirits lifted by her warmth. He knew this might be the last time he felt it for many months. A single tear slid down Mira's cheek and fell onto the rough sandstone dock.
"Don't be away for too long my love," she whispered.
The words echoed painfully in Surin's mind as he forced himself to step back and board the ship. He didn't want to leave. But what choice did he have? A son to raise, parents to support, his duty weighed heavier than his heart.
He looked back one last time, imprinting Mira's smile into his memory.
"Ahura Mazda will bring me back to you," he called. "Keep that smile bright for me."
The ship drifted from the harbour, the distance widening with every gentle push of the tide, until Mira became nothing more than a fading shape swallowed by the horizon.
It had been months since they left Tis. By now the crew moved like a single living machine, each man repeating the same routines until they became instinct. The ship had already crossed the Strait of Malacca; only a few days remained before reaching China.
Surin sat cross-legged on the deck, his shamshir resting across his knees. Sunlight shimmered along its curved edge as he ran it across a sharpening stone, each stroke slow and deliberate, the motion of a man who had practiced since youth.
"Surin! Why the salty face?"
A young voice called out.
He looked up to see Jamil, a skinny lad holding a skin of wine. The boy always seemed too cheerful for life at sea.
"Captain says we're only four days from port!"
Surin raised an eyebrow. He didn't speak to Jamil often, but he made it a point to learn every sailor's name.
"You shouldn't be drinking, Jamil," he said, sliding the shamshir back into its sheath and dropping the whetstone into the bucket beside him.
Jamil crouched beside him, leaning against the railing with a grin.
"It ain't for me! Captain says you need to lighten up. That blade looks fancy though. Where'd you get it, Vice?"
Surin couldn't help the hint of pride that crept into his voice.
"It was a gift from my time in the cavalry."
Jamil's eyes sparkled with admiration.
But in the very next moment, the sky darkened.
Clouds rolled in like ink spilling across parchment. The wind shifted, sharp and cold.
Then, as if Angra Mainyu himself had cast his shadow over the seas, the heavens split open.
Rain assaulted the deck.
Thunder roared.
Waves crashed with murderous intent.
The captain barked orders, struggling to keep the crew organized as the ship bucked violently.
Surin leapt to his feet and sprinted toward the halyards, trying to secure the sails before they tore themselves free.
A blinding flash tore through the sky.
CRACK!
The mast exploded with a deafening boom.
Surin was thrown across the deck, crashing onto the soaked timber.
Half conscious, disoriented, he heard a scream.
He forced himself upright, blinking through the rain, and saw Jamil trapped beneath the collapsed rigging.
Surin pushed through the sting of seawater in his eyes, drew his shamshir, and slashed downward. The blade cut cleanly through the ropes, freeing the terrified boy.
"Run to the hold!" Surin bellowed.
Jamil scrambled toward an open hatch as another bolt of lightning lit up the deck.
BOOM.
Then
darkness.
.
.
Cold.
.
.
Surin drifted in the salty void
"Don't keep me waiting, my love…"
… A flicker of light pierced Surin's heavy eyelids.
… "My love…" "My love…" "My lo…"
…
He snapped back into reality with a violent inhale. Heat pressed against his skin. Rough wooden planks dug into his back.
Voices drifted in around him harsh and foreign
"Good haul, Little Jin. Where did you find these ones?"
"Oh, boss, you know my luck's been good lately! These Dashi will sell for a lot."
Sell?
Sell… him?
Surin's heart clenched as awareness crashed over him. Iron shackles bit into his wrists and ankles. The cage jolted over stones with each turn of the road, rattling the chains like mockery. Around him were his countrymen,Persians along with Greeks, Arabs, and others.
Jamil lay unconscious at Surin's feet.
The boy had gone from first voyage to slave in a single night.
Surin's chest tightened. He didn't deserve this.
Days blurred into one another.
Hunger gnawed him awake.
Thirst clawed at his throat.
Sleep came only in painful fragments.
Then…movement. Rough hands dragged him upright.
He blinked himself awake and found himself half naked on a wooden platform, lined up shoulder to shoulder with other captives. A crowd of strangers pressed close, their eyes hungry, greedy, calculating.
"Two silver teals for that one!"
"Four for the Dashi on the right!"
"One gold teal for the tall one!"
The shouts stabbed into his skull. Surin swayed, barely able to remain conscious.
A blink later, he was back in another cage, lighter now, emptier.
How long before I'm sold?
His mind drifted…
"Don't keep me waiting… my lo"
"My…"
"Lo…"
A roar shook the air.
"Bandits! Bandits! Protect the slaves!"
Chaos erupted.
Arrows hissed overhead.
Men screamed.
Steel rang against steel.
The cage door hung open yet Surin's mind still felt chained.
He forced himself awake, dragging his weak body through the mud.
Blood misted the air.
Bodies fell.
Shouts echoed like memories of battle long past.
Then he saw it:
His shamshir.
Half-buried in the mud.
Waiting for him.
Surin crawled toward it, fingers trembling. He gripped the hilt, drew the curved blade free, and in a single practiced movement
shhk
He removed a slaver's head from his shoulders.
Another came.
Then another.
Surin moved like he had on the fields against the Dulafids, swift, precise, unyielding.
A corpse to his left.
Another to his right.
All cut down by the smooth arc of his shamshir.
In the distance, he glimpsed impossible sights:
A man leaping through the air, slicing through armed slavers as if they were nothing.
Another punching holes straight through human bodies.
Murim warriors…
But Surin had no time to marvel.
He fought with a single burning thought:
I will not die a slave.
The battle finally died down.
Surin dropped to his knees atop the corpses of those who had chained him.
A shadow loomed over him.
A giant of a man, broad as a wall, towering over everyone around him. His presence alone felt heavier than iron.
"You. Dashi."
His voice rumbled like distant thunder.
"I like you."
"You can come with me and work for my Green Manor Clan… or you can run and die to the wolves."
Surin blinked. Options? He was being offered options?
Surin tried to speak…anything, but his body had reached its end.
"Wa… te…"
"Water…"
His legs gave out.
THUD.
His face hit the mud, and the world dissolved into darkness, the same cold, salty void that had swallowed him once before.