By the next morning, the aul was buzzing again — not with fear this time, but with recovery. Women boiled milk for suusab, elders sprinkled blessed salt around the yurts, and riders repaired broken fence poles. The festival was postponed, but life moved on with the stubborn resilience only steppe people possessed.
Ayisulu felt calmer after the smoke ritual, though her mind still clung to Arslan's words from the night before.
You won't face it alone.
Dangerous words.
Warming words.
Hard to forget.
She was helping a young girl braid ribbons into her horse's mane when a horn announced the arrival of strangers.
A caravan approached — small, dusty, clearly exhausted. Three wagons, several camels, and a handful of riders dragging their feet. Merchants. Story-tellers. Wanderers.
Temir immediately gasped. "More food! I mean—visitors!"
Arslan gave him a flat look. "At least pretend your priorities are noble."
"They are," Temir said. "Noble hunger."
The caravan leader, a broad-shouldered man in embroidered leather armor, greeted the aul elder with exhaustion in every breath.
"We escaped raiders south of here," he said. "Shadow Riders. They asked for information about a girl."
Ayisulu froze.
Arslan stepped forward so sharply Kereg mirrored the movement out of instinct.
"What girl?" Arslan asked.
"A young woman," the merchant said. "They showed us a drawing. A rough sketch."
He frowned. "But the braids and the eyes were clear."
Ayisulu felt the world tilt.
Bair whispered, "Oh no…"
Kanykei muttered, "This is getting ridiculous."
The merchant's gaze swept the gathered people — then landed on Ayisulu.
He paused.
"Her," he said simply.
A hush fell across the aul.
Arslan moved before Ayisulu could breathe.
He stepped directly in front of her, shoulders squared, expression sharp enough to cut steel.
"You won't speak that aloud," he said calmly.
Not a threat — a royal decree.
The merchant raised his hands. "I mean no harm, Prince. I only report what I've seen."
Ayisulu exhaled shakily.
Another merchant, younger and far more enthusiastic, stepped forward.
"But if she's the girl they want, she must be special! Maybe blessed? Maybe a shaman's chosen? Maybe—"
Arslan gave him a look that shut him up instantly.
Temir leaned toward Ayisulu and whispered,
"He's jealous that other people think you're special."
Ayisulu elbowed him without thinking.
Arslan turned back to her, his voice low.
"We need to talk. Alone."
Which was exactly when another merchant woman noticed Ayisulu's loose braid and gasped.
"Oh! Your hair is slipping."
She reached to fix it.
Ayisulu smiled and thanked her, but before the woman's fingers even touched her braid, Arslan's hand shot out and gently pushed the woman's hand away.
"She can fix it herself," Arslan said tightly.
Ayisulu blinked.
The woman blinked.
Everyone blinked.
Kanykei burst out laughing. "Oh, this is peaceful. The prince is a jealous horse."
Arslan inhaled through his teeth.
Ayisulu wanted to vanish.
---
Later, when the crowd dispersed, Arslan pulled Ayisulu aside behind a row of saddle racks. Not roughly. Not urgently. But with determination.
"Ayisulu," he said, "this is no longer coincidence. They're hunting you."
"I know."
His expression tightened. "Did you see something? Before or after the attack?"
Ayisulu hesitated. Her dreams, visions, whispers — she had always kept them to herself. But after last night's ritual, after seeing fear in the raiders' eyes…
"Yes," she whispered finally. "I saw… more."
His posture changed. He stepped closer, lowering his head to hear her better.
"What did you see?"
"A hall… burning," she said quietly. "Strangers talking about a prince. And someone mentioning 'the girl who sees.' I keep hearing it."
Arslan's jaw clenched.
"You didn't tell me before."
"I didn't want to worry you."
"Too late," he said, voice rough. "I'm very worried."
Ayisulu's breath caught.
Before she could respond, movement flickered at the edge of her sight — not vision, not instinct — something real.
A merchant boy had wandered toward the southern ridge, where a slope of stones hung dangerously loose. One of the camels tugged its rope, pulling the boy with it.
Ayisulu's chest tightened.
No time to think.
She sprinted.
Arslan swore and followed.
Just as the camel's pull dislodged a cluster of stones from above, Ayisulu threw herself at the boy, grabbing him and diving aside. The stones crashed down exactly where he'd been standing.
The boy trembled in shock.
The merchant woman screamed his name.
Arslan reached Ayisulu in seconds, pulling her up by the arms.
"Ayisulu—are you hurt?" His hands moved over her shoulders, her arms, her hair, checking frantically for injuries.
"I'm fine—"
He didn't let her finish.
"You saw that before it happened," he said quietly. "Didn't you?"
Ayisulu swallowed. "Yes."
"Deliberately?"
Another breath.
Another truth.
"Yes."
Arslan's expression changed — not fear, not awe, but something much deeper. Something that shook her more than the falling stones.
"You trusted your gift," he murmured. "And you trusted it to save someone."
Ayisulu nodded slowly. "It felt… right."
"Good." His voice softened dangerously. "Because your instincts have saved all of us more than once."
She looked up.
He was too close.
Again.
The wind tugged at his cloak, brushing her arm.
The sound of the aul faded.
His eyes stayed locked on hers like he was finally seeing the full truth of her — not just the danger, not just the mystery.
"Arslan…" she whispered, unsure what she was about to confess.
He exhaled, stepped a fraction closer.
"Ayisulu," he said, voice low, "if anything happened to you—"
But before he could finish, a horn sounded again — not alarm this time, but announcement. Riders were approaching from the east.
Kanykei ran toward them.
"The scouts returned!" she said. "They found something. A name."
Arslan turned sharply.
"What name?"
Kanykei swallowed.
"They say the man behind the attacks… calls himself The Falcon of the Red Sands."
Ayisulu froze.
Arslan did too — but his first reaction was to put his hand on Ayisulu's back, protective even before he realized he'd done it.
"We need to hear everything," he said, his voice already dropping into command.
He started to walk —
But then looked back at Ayisulu.
Just one glance.
A glance that said:
Whatever this Falcon wants from you… he'll have to go through me first.
And Ayisulu felt something shift inside her — not a vision, not fear, but the faint beginning of belief.
Belief that she wasn't alone, no matter what her dreams showed.