Chapter Two: The Countdown into Madness
Novel: In the Persian Bazaar
Chapter Two: The Countdown into Madness
1. Desert War Chronicle: Cyrus and Shaheen’s Fight for Survival
Two days remained until the bazaar.
The desert bared its fangs.
“Damn it—Allah, for just today, please stay asleep!”
Cyrus spat out sand that clawed its way up from his throat.
The simoon—the poisoned wind—howled mercilessly, reducing visibility to barely three steps ahead.
Grains of sand battered the camels’ long, heavy eyelashes without mercy.
“Captain! The camels are stopping! At this rate, we won’t make it in time for the hour of prophecy!”
Shaheen screamed, bloodshot eyes glaring through the slit of his face wrap.
His beloved hawk trembled on his shoulder, hiding from the storm.
“Don’t let them stop! The moment we halt, this place becomes our grave!
I promised Danesh—goods the bazaar has never even dreamed of worshipping:
‘Blue Silk of the Far North’ and ‘Dragon Incense of the East’!
With this cargo, that bazaar becomes a true treasury of wonders!”
Cyrus slammed his palm against a camel’s thick neck.
“Move! Cross this desert and you’ll have wine, meat—
and the ‘fate’ that Jarre foresaw waiting for you!
If you don’t want to die, walk! Keep walking!”
In Cyrus’s mind, the yet-unseen bazaar shimmered like a mirage—
its roaring crowds, and the graceful profile of that Princess he had never met.
2. The Metamorphosis of the Market: Danesh and Inaz’s “Battlefield”
Meanwhile, the bazaar had transformed into a battlefield that never slept.
“Hey! Move that cargo!
This is where Lady Irem’s gold-thread carpet will be laid!”
Danesh’s throat was hoarse from barking orders.
He spread out a map of the market, calculating every stall placement—
how to make the Princess’s gaze and the King’s gaze cross at the most beautiful angle.
“Danesh, calm yourself. Saffron prices have tripled overnight.”
Inaz sighed, wiping sweat from her brow with coarse linen.
Her shop overflowed with goat meat hauled in from nearby tribes,
and heaps of vividly colored fruit.
“Inaz, this isn’t just business.
On the day of prophecy, this place becomes the center of the world.
…Look over there. At Kabir and his people.”
In the shadows of the market—
Kabir, the beggar elder, had gathered his companions.
With their bare hands, they polished the road leading from the market gate to the palace.
“A princess’s palanquin must not pass over a dirty road.
…All we can do is ensure not even a single grain of sand soils her shoes.”
In their clouded eyes burned no hunger for alms—
only the sacred light of those awaiting a miracle.
3. A Melody of Darkness: Shahab the Serpent Charmer’s “Fangs”
And in the darkest alley of the bazaar—
Shahab stood unseen, facing a massive king cobra.
“…Listen well, my partner.
The flute I play at the hour of prophecy won’t be a song of celebration.”
He raised the flute to his lips and released a short, razor-sharp melody.
It was less music than the growl of a beast cornering its prey.
The serpent lifted its hood and writhed hypnotically,
its scales shimmering violet in the dim alley.
“Even if Hosein’s sword shields the Princess,
once my flute slices through the wind, the threads of fate will snap.
What did old Jarre see, I wonder—
a peaceful parade, or a blood-soaked transformation?”
With a fearless grin worthy of the name ‘Falling Star,’
Shahab melted into the darkness.
4. Palace Silence: Princess Nilfar’s Prayer
That night, deep within the palace—
Princess Nilfar stood on her balcony, gazing at the distant lights of the bazaar.
Beside her, the handmaiden Inji combed her long black hair with a pearl-inlaid comb.
“…Inji. I can hear the market’s murmuring even from here.”
“Everyone is preparing to welcome you, Princess.
…Jarre’s prophecy has become the very rhythm of this city.”
Nilfar clutched the pendant at her chest,
engraved with the delicate design of a lotus—Nilfar.
“They wish to see my appearance.
But who will see my heart?
…In three days, will I simply pass through that bazaar as a living ornament?”
“Princess…”
Heavy metal echoed across the chamber.
It was the guard Hosein.
Still clad in armor, he dropped to one knee and spoke with unwavering force.
“Princess, rest assured.
Whatever the prophecy may say, my shamshir will guard the path before you.
The market’s chaos, the shadows of ill omen—
I will cut them all down.”
Nilfar smiled faintly.
Yet within her eyes burned a small, unextinguishable flame—
a quiet refusal to accept a destiny already decided.
