Novel: In the Persian Bazaar

Chapter One: Golden Sands and the Silver Prophecy

Novel: At the Persian Bazaar

Chapter One: Golden Sands and the Silver Prophecy

1. The Sea of Sand, the Roar of the Caravan

When the sun scorched the horizon and the sky boiled into molten gold,

a single line of shadows sliced through the dunes known as “The Silence of Death,”

the final desert leading to the heart of Persia.

It was a great caravan, led by a young commander named Cyrus.

“…Shaheen! The song of the sand has changed. How much farther?”

Cyrus shouted through cracked lips, his voice slipping out from beneath the folds of his turban (keffiyeh).

The hem of his desert cloak (abaya) was torn and frayed, scarred by the cruelty of the journey.

Yet the golden embroidery draped across his shoulder still caught the western sunlight, gleaming defiantly.

The scout Shaheen rose lightly atop his camel, as if standing on air, and gazed into the distance.

His eyes were those of a hawk.

“Captain. There’s cumin riding the wind. Beyond that dune—where the blue mirage shimmers—that’s the bazaar.

…But something’s off.”

“What is it?”

“The desert rats are chattering.

They say, ‘In three days, everything will be assembled.’

Looks like the fortune-teller—old Jarre—has been spouting something outrageous again.”

Cyrus tightened his grip on the camel reins (tazee).

“…Jarre, huh. Her prophecies are more accurate than desert rain, sharper than a viper’s fang.

Shaheen—tell the men this:

‘Save your thirst for the bazaar. Anyone who’s late for the hour of prophecy will sleep forever beneath the sand.’”

“Yes, by God’s will (At-Allah)!”

At Shaheen’s piercing whistle, the camels roared in unison.

Zash, zash, zash, zash…

Heavy, powerful footsteps echoed across the sea of sand—

like the opening rhythm of a familiar, ominous melody.

2. The Clamor of the Market, and the Trembling Crystal

The scene shifts—to the deepest heart of the bazaar.

It was a cauldron where colors, scents, and human desire boiled together.

“Step right up! Damascus rose water!

For roads walked by nobility like Princess Nilfar, only this fragrance will do!”

The merchant Danesh shouted, a leather-bound ancient tome tucked beneath his arm.

His stall overflowed—astronomical charts, forbidden herbs, secrets piled chaotically yet proudly.

“Danesh, mind your tongue. Don’t cheapen the princess’s name.”

Beside him, spice dealer Inaz shot a sharp glance from beneath her black veil (chador).

Her hands were stained crimson with paprika and gold with saffron.

“…More importantly, have you heard about old Jarre?

She’s been clutching that crystal all morning, shaking like she was struck by God’s lightning.”

Just then—

From a darkened tent at the center of the market square,

a low, unearthly cry erupted.

It was Jarre, the seer.

A crowd had already gathered.

The beggar-elder Kabir clutched the hem of her tent with shriveled hands, watching in breathless silence.

Jarre pressed her sweat-soaked forehead to the crystal and pointed into the void.

“…I see it…!

The sand weeps,

and the window of heaven opens…!

Three days from now, at noon—when the market clock stops—

the ‘Lotus Princess’ shall arrive upon a silver palanquin.

The ‘Falling-Star Serpent’ shall crawl upon the earth,

and the ‘Golden Lion’ shall bring the people to their knees…!

When all the cast is assembled,

the map of Persia shall be redrawn…!”

“…!?”

The bazaar fell silent, as if drenched in water.

Kabir whispered, his voice trembling.

“…Three days…

Will light finally fall upon us who dwell beneath the earth?”

“Prepare yourselves!”

Someone shouted.

“The Princess is coming! The King as well!

Clear the market! Lay out the finest carpets!

Jarre’s prophecies never fail!

In these three days, earn a lifetime’s wealth—

and offer a lifetime’s worth of prayers!”

3. Fate Begins to Move

From a palace terrace slightly removed from the chaos,

a cold gaze looked down upon the bazaar.

It belonged to Irem, consort of the tribal lord.

Her silk gown shifted colors like peacock feathers with every step.

“…How amusing. The market rats are dancing.

Hosein—everything is prepared, yes?”

Behind her, the young guard Hosein rested a hand on the hilt of his crescent blade (shamshir) and bowed deeply.

“Yes, my lady.

Princess Nilfar’s escort and Caliph Reza’s inspection route are fully secured.

…However, that prophecy—the one about the ‘serpent’—

an ill wind surrounds it.”

“Let it blow.

No serpent can dim the princess’s beauty.

Inji—tell the princess this:

in three days, she shall become the center of the world.”

“At once.”

The handmaiden Inji bowed quietly and headed toward the princess’s chambers—

carrying within her heart a secret vision

she dared not speak to anyone.