The verboten, accursed part of this ancient palace had waited so eagerly for its dark, doomed tendrils to be caressed by the hands of a divine-born. It was thirsty to feel the breath of an avenger spread soothing coolness over its unhealed, gaping wounds.

Shahrazad wasn't aware of it as he stood outside the door of the forbidden room. It was night and the surroundings looked no less than possessed. Shahrazad felt the hair on his neck stand then and now as the squeaky mice ran across the corridor or the breeze extinguished the few remaining lamps that gave light.

He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath to fill his frightened lungs with determination. He had to find what was here.

But before he reached the bolt to unfasten it, it opened on its own. The door parted with a screech. Dust flew out of the room in swirls of smoke. Shahrazad covered his mouth and coughed.

"They seek you."

He gave a shiver. For once it seemed something was looming over his shoulder, whispering in his ears in the shrilly voice of some young maiden. The wind then gently nudged him to go inside.

"I have come here to unearth the clues. I must go in."

As soon as he stepped in the dim room lit by a few beams of the moon, the door closed slowly.

He was alone now, cut off from the other parts of the palace. From Shahryar. From Dunyazad. Perhaps the murderer too.

"Where have I brought myself?"

A maddened bat came thundering out of the window, cracking the glass into shards that pierced its skin. Bleeding and panting for life, it fell at the feet of Shahrazad. He wanted to run, but his body was frozen on spot. The window, now having a larger opening than ever, let in plenty of moonlight which brightened up the room.

The furniture was left untouched for uncountable days. Neglect had eaten away the youthful beauty of the room. There were beautiful little statues of fairies the size of his forearm, some vases whose flowers had wilted long ago and a soft velvety carpet beneath his feet. Yet the cold seeped in and paralysed his being.

There was a huge bed in the room, as big as that of the Shah, whose bedsheets were maligned with dried spots. Shahrazad knew those were red like blood. The darkness couldn't blind his intuition.

While going closer to the bed, his feet touched something rough. He bent down to inspect it.

"Really?"

It was a satiny night robe of some maiden. It was torn in places and left to be stomped over by men.

"Who owned you?"

"It belongs to the early bird, O Son of Mah. You, the unvanquished prey, the hunted becoming the hunter, discover it when no glory remains."

A woman materialised out of thin air. She had no clothes on– her naked features, sculpted perfectly by God were left to be seen by explorers. She exuded purity, no sign of lust in her gait or in her impenetrable obsidian eyes as black as the sky of new moon. Her skin was fair and pale but not bloodless and blue. They had a tinge of red, as if life still thrived inside of her.

Shahrazad was taking steps back even before his mind realised. But again some invisible force stood like a towering barrier behind him. He was pushed to the front as the apparition swum above his head.

"Who-who are you?"

"The Son of Mah may not be afraid of me. I mean no harm to him."

Surely this spirit knew a lot, since she called him as Son of Mah. No one knew that identity of him except Bagaos and Dunyazad.

"You come to seek what, my sweet friend?"

"We are no friends. And as of friendship, it has some ugly connotations in my life." Shahrazad felt his eyes tear up. "My friend has forgotten me."

"Khorshed is just lost, as he always has been."

The spirit went and sat on the bed, her dainty legs swinging. A little pool had appeared on the ground whose otherworldly waters she splashed with her feet.

"You may ask me questions. No one has shown the guts to come here ever, but you did. So you deserve some answers, at least."

"Who is the murderer?"

The spirit flinched. Black streams cascaded down her eyes. The skin that clung to her bones tightly began sagging. Soon she was left in the state of a mere skeleton with a pair of vacant sockets for eyes.

Shahrazad's limbs quivered. The robe from his hands fell to the floor.

"Do not ask her this, young man. Have some mercy."

A second spirit came. It was a man. Unlike her he was dressed in scarlet and golden, the attire of some important official. He came and embraced the lady, infusing in her the elixir of afterlife. She was brought back to her pretty state.
She stared at Shahrazad with sadness in her eyes. "That is a question very incorrectly framed."

"You better ask something else, young man. There are things we cannot speak on."

"Is anyone trying to kill the Shah?"

The spirits exchanged glances. "You are very worried about him, aren't you?" the man asked with a chuckle. "Even we are, despite whatever transpired. Our hearts overflow with not malice but pity."

"You pity the Shah?"

"Yes, young man, we do."

"Answer if any harm can befall on him."

"You know about the curse of Mitra?" the woman asked.

Shahrazad's eyes widened. He exhaled in relief. "So he is safe. Anyone who kills the Shah, he and his legacy will be cursed. So yes, no one can–"

"I never said that they are completely safe."

The woman's words blistered Shahrazad's skin. "But if not murdered, how can they kill him? Only natural death shall come."

"Think again, Son of Mah, think again. The crooked has found ways better than mere murder of the Shah."

Shahrazad felt the lack of air choke him. No, his beloved wasn't safe and neither was he himself.

"I know death is on a search for me. But I will not die before justice is served."

"The dead is there to bless you from the claws of death," the woman said, a serene smile of her placating the tension collected in Shahrazad's muscles. "They will protect you, but only as much the rules of Time allow."

"You are brave and fortunate," the other male spirit said. "You will earn your rightful place, what really belongs to you."

Shahrazad smiled. At least he got the assurance of Shahryar's love.

"No, Son of Mah. You are not here to be behind him. You are here to be beside him," the lady said.

"What do you mean?"

"The Shah searches for something. It's in the land of dreams. He wishes to reveal what his father once saw. Alas, he doesn't know how close he is to the key."

The words of the lady didn't make sense to Shahrazad, but he still memorised those. They could come in help later. "Who are you two? You didn't tell me your names."

"Names mean nothing in our world. We have come beyond death."

"But my lady, perhaps you can hint me on who you two were once?"

The two spirits raised themselves up in the air.

"I am the early bird, the one butchered on the dawn of her union."

"And I am the eyes and ears of the Shah, the man who died the death of a pawn disguised a betrayer."

Shahrazad pondered over the words. The eyes and ears of the Shah. . .a spy?

The early bird... what can that mean?

"And here, Khorshed returns." With these words, the spirits vanished as suddenly as they had come. The door opened with a bang and now, a tangible pair of hands held onto Shahrazad.

"You think yourself to be too smart and powerful, don't you?"

Shahrazad knew that voice. It comforted him, so he let this intruder lead him back to the chambers of the Shah.

Shahryar closed the door to their room and glared at his spouse.

"I will find the murderer and not even you can stop me, Shahryar."

Shahryar was shaken to the core to hear Shahrazad call him by his name. He didn't express his shock though. "Don't visit that room ever again," he warned. "It is my order that no one should."

Their gazes battled like bloodied spears engaged in war.

"I am the Shahamsar-am, the one equal to the Shah. The rule doesn't apply to me."

Shahryar held him by the collar, baring his teeth. Their foreheads hit like raging bulls. "You have to own your place."

"I am legally privileged enough for it. I am married to you not just for one night, remember." Shahrazad yanked himself away from his grip. He poured himself a chalice of wine. "I am here as long as I don't find who is behind this plotting and killing. When I find it out, I don't regret dying."

"So you have come here with a purpose?"

Shahrazad smirked. "A purpose? I think several, my Shah."

He tiptoed to Shahryar, pulling him down by the head so that his lips grazed the Shah's chin. "One, to find the killer. Two, to face the past. And three"–he placed a kiss near the corner of Shahryar's lips–"to take a heart."