The Last Gift

It was the last watch of the night, and Toofan galloped through the dark as if the wind itself had lifted him onto its wings. In Mehran's closed fist the ring was warm, and its faint glow slipped out between his fingers. Behind them, towards Koh-e-Siyah, the footsteps of the stone army could still be heard — heavy, slow, and never stopping. Sahil sat behind Mehran, holding on tightly to his waist, and every little while he glanced back, as…