Winner of the 'Readers Choice Award' in Historical Fiction.
Winner of the 'Readers Choice Award' in Spiritual Category.
Winner of Best Muslim Readers' Choice Awards: Prince of Knights
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Arabs are well known for their culture, Po...
Before reading this chapter I want everyone to imagine Faris. We all know that he is a dangerous man, a man who knows no fear a man who is powerful, handsome and an individual who creates fears in the hearts of beholders. Well, now you may proceed.
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~*And the writing is still : to you, with you, about you, because of you and for you.~*
Far away in a land away from the Borkan tribe twilight perished welcoming the tip of a majestic sun, an orange radiance that swept every blade of grass coating the landscape in an artistic golden glow as if the sun had molted. The mist commenced disappearing, and exposed droplets of dew on the palm trees and spider webs causing the animals to stir. The sunrays penetrated through the clouds indicating the end of rain and the dreadful night.
After a few hushed hours, Faris's eyes shot open. He moved his left hand when an intense urge of emptying his stomach hit him. His brain felt numb like the world had frozen. Faris blinked a few times to clear his mind why could he not recall anything. Where was Raghad?
When he placed his left hand on his side, his fingers touched soft, glossy hair. Suddenly, Faris sat bolt straight with a heaving chest as if he had sailed a distance when memories of what he had committed a few hours ago rushed in his mind, Ya Allah! Sweat beaded his forehead despite the chilly night and ran down his bare chest. Slowly, almost afraid he moved his head to the side and hissed when he saw his spouse, Raghad fast asleep beside him.
The knight's hand trembled when he ran it over his hair. In a trice, he shot out of the cot wore his kandoora and dashed out of his chamber, leaving his headdress and sword behind. The sky was still dark outside when Faris walked through the narrow hallway and pushed open the wooden door of Sheikh Mubarak's house. His eyes searched for something desperately in the dark, was it his humanity? Was it his soul? He did not know.
"What have I done?" Faris questioned himself and walked away, away from his sin the hell he molded with his own hands. He stepped in a puddle created by the rain, but the man did not pay heed to it as he made his way towards a well. Once there, he filled a bucket with water and doused it over his head when the water touched his feet Faris repeated the action a few times disregarding the cold that scratched at his skin.
Knight of knights sat on the wall of the well with his head in his palms. "Ya Allah, what have I done?" He murmured. "How can I commit such a sin? How can I do this?" He growled, enraged, lost. How can he be so weak in front of Satan? After a while, Faris looked around the tribe his desolate eyes fell upon an illuminated window, and he knew it was Abdullah, his friend was awake to worship his Lord when the world was asleep.
