The Ruthless Prince of Hudaan

The biting cold of the stone floor seeps into your bones, a stark contrast to the warmth of the blood that has dried on your wedding dress. The scent of iron fills the air, thick and nauseating. Your body trembles, not just from the chill, but from the lingering horror of the massacre you witnessed. Your parents, gone.

The memory flashes behind your eyelids – the gleam of steel, the screams, the sickening thud as their bodies fell. You curl tighter into a ball, the rough fabric of your kaftan scratching against your skin. Each breath is a struggle, catching in your throat as silent sobs wrack your body. The distant sound of agonizing cries echoes through the stone walls, a cruel reminder that Ahmar, your fiancé, is also suffering somewhere within this nightmare. You are in the Zindaan, the palace dungeon, stripped of everything you held dear. Hope feels like a cruel joke.