In the Persian Bazaar: The Roar of an Empire

Episode Five: The Princess’s Song, the Blood-Stained White Horse

1. A Sanctuary Trampled

Crushing the labyrinth of the market by sheer force, the main Macedonian army surged into the square.

Their sarissas shattered the spice jars Inaz had so carefully stacked, and swept aside the shelves of wisdom Danesh had guarded with his life.

“Don’t fall back! This is the final step!”

Cyrus’s voice was nearly swallowed by the wind racing across the battlefield. His beloved blade was nicked and dulled; Shahin had loosed his last arrow and now hurled himself against thick shields with only a dagger.

Yet the tide of steel did not stop. One fell—two replaced him. Two fell—ten more advanced. The market was buried beneath a hopeless flood of numbers.

2. The Descent of the White Horse

Then, at the deepest end of the market, atop the grand staircase leading to the palace, a single, radiant white appeared.

Mounted on a pure white horse stood Princess Nilfar, her silver breastplate stained crimson.

In her right hand, a beautiful named sword once reserved only for sacred rites. In her left, a blue banner raised to rally the blood-soaked people of the market.

“O gods of Persia, grant me strength! People of the market—look at me!”

Her cry pierced the screaming square. She kicked her horse and charged straight down the steps.

Her guard, Hossein, moved like her shadow, knocking aside Macedonian spears.

“Princess! It’s too dangerous!”

Cyrus shouted—but Nilfar did not slow.

She drove her blade without hesitation into the throat of a heavy infantryman who was about to finish off the fallen Kabir.

3. The Song of the Blood-Stained Lotus

The white horse’s mane was dyed red with blood.

As she fought, Nilfar began to sing.

It was not the elegant melody (the ketelbey) once heard in the market.

It was a war song—almost a curse—shaking warriors’ souls and turning fear of death into burning rage.

“Rise, children of the desert! This blood is not spilled in vain! Every drop we shed will rewrite the history of this market in gold!”

At the sound of her voice, a terrifying light returned to the eyes of the exhausted people.

Inaz rose clutching shards of broken jars. Shahab, out of venom, struck with the speed of a serpent. Even Danesh charged the enemy ranks, torch held high.

“The Princess is fighting! Like hell we’re going to lose now!”

With Cyrus’s roar, the people of the market launched a desperate, all-or-nothing counterattack.

4. Hossein’s End, and the Bond

But a razor-sharp javelin hurled by an enemy commander flew toward Nilfar’s back.

“Princess!!”

Hossein moved without thought.

The spear sank deep into his back. Dropping to one knee, he still stood before Nilfar and, with his final strength, cut down the enemy commander.

“…Princess Nilfar… please… this market…”

His fingertips brushed Nilfar’s blood-stained gauntlet—and fell limp.

“Hossein!!”

Her scream shook the battlefield. Yet she did not cry.

She forged her friend’s death, his soul itself, into her blade.

5. The Golden Land in Flames

At the center of the square, Cyrus and Nilfar stood back to back.

“Cyrus… burn the market.”

He sucked in his breath.

“Are you serious? This is your—our—treasure!”

“No. What has form may be destroyed, but our souls—our story—will not vanish. If we must choose, we will seal this place forever in the fires of the desert rather than hand it to the enemy!”

Danesh. Inaz. Kabir.

All at once, they set the flames.

Hidden oil ignited throughout the market, and the golden bazaar transformed in an instant into a fortress of fire.

For the first time, Alexander’s main force felt fear—and began to fall back before the inferno and the people who no longer feared death.

Within the flames, Nilfar and Cyrus met each other’s gaze.

“Come, Cyrus,” she said softly.

“Let us go and write a new history.”