A sense of freedom and youthfulness washed over me, a feeling I hadn’t experienced in years. The pillows flew back and forth in a playful flurry until we finally called a truce, both breathless and grinning.
“Let’s not forget why we’re here,” I teased, though the warmth of his body beside mine made it tempting to ignore the work awaiting us. Roman’s deep, soothing laughter echoed my sentiment before he leaned in for a kiss—a lingering reminder of our shared night.
“Work it is,” he said.
Pulling himself away from our shared cocoon, Roman unfurled the leather bundle that encased the blades onto his lap. They shimmered with an ethereal light, their edges sharp and gleaming. The metallic sheen seemed to pulse with a life of its own, as if the daggers were aware of their imminent role in decoding the ancient script.
“I need something to write with,” I said, unwilling to leave his side for even a moment.
My fingers brushed the polished surface of the desk as I searched, eventually encountering a stack of thick, luxurious paper. It was likely imported from Persia, and its texture was a testament to its quality.
“The finest paper for the most sacred of words,” I mused, a smile curving my lips.
Beside the paper lay a Qalam, its reed body honed to perfection, ready to dance across the page. A small pot of black ink rested nearby, a concoction of lampblack, gum Arabic, and water—a perfect blend of artistry and precision.
“The tools of scholars and poets,” I said, lifting the Qalam with reverence.
“Let’s move to the desk,” I suggested, carefully gathering the paper, pen, and ink. “We wouldn’t want to risk staining the loveseat or letting our fervor for knowledge ruin the furniture. Pull up a chair, Roman,” I added, my tone still laced with the playful energy of our earlier antics.
He dragged a chair to my side and carefully laid out the sun and moon daggers atop Amir’s grand desk. The leather wrapping unfurled like an ancient scroll, revealing the blades’ intricate designs and the enigmatic scripture carved into their surfaces.
“Let’s make this interesting,” I said with a sly smile. “For every word we decipher, a reward.”
Roman’s brow arched. “What kind of reward?” he asked, his lips curving into a grin. “Kisses, perhaps?”
I nodded, meeting his playful gaze. “Exactly.”
“Sounds delightful,” he said, his voice warm and full of anticipation.
We leaned close together, our heads nearly touching as we pored over the ancient text. The air between us crackled with a mix of concentration and an unspoken intimacy. Each time we unraveled a word, our lips met in celebration—a soft, fleeting kiss that left us craving more but kept us grounded in our shared task.
The hours slipped by in a haze of stolen glances, light brushes of fingertips, and the silent language of lovers united by a singular purpose. Our kisses became punctuation marks for our successes, each sweeter and more rewarding than the last. The afternoon melted into evening, the light outside dimming as our work brought us closer to the truth.
“Look, Roman!” I exclaimed, my pulse quickening as the final word fell into place.
The daggers trembled on the desk, their metallic surfaces shimmering as if alive. A low hum emanated from them, vibrating with a force that sent a thrill down my spine.
I reached for the blades, my fingertips grazing their glowing edges. They burned with an ethereal light, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. The ancient words I had deciphered tumbled from my lips, each syllable resonating with a foreign and familiar power.
“iinani ‘adeu qiwaa alsama’ aleazimati, wa’atlub mink ‘an tutliq aleinan linurki,” I said, reading from the deciphered script on the paper. “Biaistikhdam shafarat alquat alqadimat hadhihi, ‘adeu alshams walqamar wazilal alliyl. ‘arshad rihlatay eabr thanaya alzaman, hayth al’asrar alqadimat makhfiat ean al’anzari. dae hadhih alshafarat tashuqu hajb aleusur baynama ‘usafir taht daw’ alnujumi. ‘anar hikmatak ealaa aldurub ghayr almatruqati, wamnahni albasar hayth yasud alzalamu. man lahib alshams aleanif ‘iilaa lamsat alqamar albaridati, ‘anr tariqi bialsalasil alsamawiati. fi hadhih alraqsat mae zilal alzaman aleamiqati, hayth tamtazij al’asda’ watabqaa alhaqiqatu, makanani min aleuthur ealaa almafqudi, warabt makasib almadi walmustaqbali.”
As I recited the ancient text, I translated it in my mind.I call upon the great forces of the sky; I ask you to unleash your light. With these ancient blades of power, I call upon the night’s sun, moon, and shadows. Guide my journey through the folds of time, where old secrets are kept from sight. Let these blades cleave the veils of ages as I travel under starry light. Shine your wisdom on paths untread, and grant me the sight where darkness reigns. From the sun’s fierce blaze to the moon’s cool touch, illuminate my way with heavenly chains. This dance with time’s deep shadows, where echoes blend, and the truth remains, empowers me to find the lost and to bind the past and future’s gains.
As the incantation climaxed, the blades moved of their own accord, sliding across the table like two celestial lovers drawn by destiny. The sun embraced the moon in an ethereal dance, their luminous forms merging seamlessly. The moon cradled the sun in a perfect union, and a crescendo of radiant light enveloped the room.
I gasped, exhilarated. We had done it. The ancient scripture had been deciphered, and now, before our eyes, the blades had fused into one.
The glow dimmed slowly, the brilliant display fading into a muted silence. The conjoined blades lay still, inert. Their brief luminescence, which had filled the room with otherworldly energy, was replaced by an almost anticlimactic stillness.
Roman and I held our breaths, waiting for a sign, a continuation of the miracle we had witnessed. But nothing came—only a pervasive quiet, punctuated by the faint crackle of the oil lamps in the study. Disappointment settled over us like fine dust, heavy and suffocating.
“Roman,” I breathed, trembling, “why did it stop? Did we do something wrong?”
A wave of panic surged through me, threatening to drown out any rational thoughts. My breaths quickened, shallow and uneven. My mind raced with fear and uncertainty, my body stiffening as a suffocating sense of defeat closed in. It felt like falling into an abyss, the weight of helplessness pressing against my chest.
Roman’s steady voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. “Let’s go get my father and ask him.”
Nodding, I clung to the sliver of hope in his calm resolve. Together, we left the study behind, our footsteps hushed against the rich carpets lining the underground palace’s corridors.
