Arya gritted his teeth, his grip tightening around Aisha. He was wounded, exhausted, and outnumbered. There was no way out.
Unless…
"Accept me." The voice returned.
This time, Arya hesitated.
Arya gritted his teeth. His body ached, but the voices in his mind wouldn't stop.
"I told you before... I don't need your help. Just leave me alone." His voice was cold.
Aisha turned to him, confused. "Brother, who are you talking to?"
"No one," Arya muttered.
Before she could ask more, she gasped. "Brother, look! They're coming to kill us!"
Arya's grip on her tightened. He turned, ready to run, but it was too late—assassin soldiers had surrounded them. There was no escape.
He placed Aisha down gently and gripped his sword tighter. He had no choice but to fight.
With sheer instinct, he dodged and countered, cutting through the assassins with precise strikes. He was outnumbered, but he refused to fall.
Then, a scream—Aisha's scream.
Arya whipped around. An assassin had grabbed her by the hair, dragging her back.
"Brother!"
Rage exploded in Arya's chest.
But then, he noticed something. The other assassins weren't attacking. They stood still, their movements silent, communicating with hand signals.
They know I can't see…
But they didn't know—he could hear their thoughts.
Their minds were filled with hesitation. He's blind. He shouldn't be able to fight like this.
Arya smirked. Too late to figure that out.
He moved. Fast.
Slipping past the soldiers blocking his way, he lunged toward Aisha. The assassin holding her barely had time to react before Arya's sword sliced through his wrist.
A severed hand hit the ground.
The man let out a bloodcurdling scream, collapsing in agony. Arya caught Aisha before she could fall, gripping her tightly.
His fingers brushed against something—a bomb strapped to the fallen assassin's belt.
Perfect.
Arya yanked the pin and hurled it into the mass of enemies.
BOOM!
The explosion rocked the area. Smoke and fire consumed everything. The crowd screamed, scattering in terror. Many assassins were thrown back, injured or worse.
Hidden in the thick smoke, Arya grabbed Aisha with both hands. He couldn't see, but she could.
"Guide me," he whispered.
Holding onto him tightly, Aisha led the way, her voice his only light in the darkness.
They entered a narrow road. It was silent—eerily so. No footsteps, no whispers. Just the faint rustling of the wind against stone walls.
Aisha held onto Arya tightly, guiding him as they moved forward. Then, she looked up at him and whispered, "Brother, I knew you would come to save me. As long as you're with me, I won't die. You won't let me."
Arya's grip on her tightened. "You're my everything, Aisha. I won't let you die. Even if it costs me my life, I'll save you."
His senses stretched outward, scanning the surroundings. After a moment, he found a safe place—an abandoned corner, hidden from sight. Carefully, he carried her there and gently set her down.
"Brother? Why did you stop?" Aisha asked, worried.
Instead of answering, Arya reached into his coat and pulled out a small wooden box.
Aisha frowned. "What's that?"
"Don't ask too many questions," Arya said, his tone firm yet gentle. "Just listen to me, alright?"
She nodded, staying silent.
Arya opened the box and took out a small vial filled with a shimmering blue liquid.
"Open your mouth," he instructed.
Aisha hesitated but obeyed.
Uncorking the vial, Arya carefully poured the medicine into her mouth. The liquid was cool, almost soothing, as it slid down her throat.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then—
A faint glow pulsed across her skin. The cursed mark on her body slowly began to fade.
Arya clenched his fists, his breath hitching. He couldn't see it, but he could feel it. The curse was weakening. Aisha was healing.
A lump formed in his throat. Relief, overwhelming and raw, crashed over him.
His hands trembled.
Tears slipped from his eyes.
"You're going to be okay," he whispered. "You're going to be okay."
Aisha, feeling the warmth return to her body, reached up and touched her brother's face.
"Brother… are you crying?"
Arya laughed softly, wiping his tears away. "It doesn't matter. Just rest now. You'll be safe."
And for the first time in a long while, he believed his own words.
Arya had waited for this moment his entire life. He could hardly believe it. Every sacrifice, every fight, every injury—everything he had endured to save his sister, Aisha, was finally paying off. He had battled monsters to earn money for her treatment, often pushing his own body to the limit, never allowing himself rest. But now, standing before her, he saw the proof of his efforts.
Aisha looked up at him, a soft smile on her face. "Brother, I feel different. My body... it's healing. The mark—it's slowly disappearing. I feel free, free from this curse."
Tears filled Arya's eyes as he pulled her into a tight embrace, his heart overflowing with emotion. Aisha cried softly, her arms wrapping around him as she hugged him tightly. "Thank you, brother," she whispered through her tears. "I love you. I'm so lucky to have you as my brother."
Arya held her tightly, unable to find the words. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to feel the weight of the moment—the joy, the relief, and the love between them.
Both Arya and Aisha were overjoyed, but neither of them knew that assassins were still searching for them, ready to kill. The people, too, were supporting the search, unaware of the true circumstances.
Aisha quietly glanced at Arya but remained silent. Arya, unable to see, but sensitive to the emotions around him, could still hear her unspoken words. After a moment, he spoke, his voice gentle yet curious.
"What happened, Aisha? I think you want to say something to me. Please, speak freely."
Aisha hesitated, her thoughts swirling. Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet yet heavy with emotion. "Brother, you always tell me that we should help the powerless and the innocent. But when I was brought here, I asked everyone for help, and no one came. Instead, they threw stones at me, trying to kill me. Why, brother? Why did they do that?"
Arya's heart ached as he processed her words.