Heritage(Noor) (Side/optional)

Door 2: Heritage.

Noor woke up with a jolt, her breath shallow and rapid as her memories of the Styx River invasion replayed vividly in her mind. Her instincts told her something was wrong, and as she looked around; her suspicions were confirmed. Compared to Ikaro Noor found himself not in her room. Instead, she found herself in a grand, ornate hallway with polished marble floors and towering columns. The morning sun filtered through the gaps between the pillars, casting golden beams that illuminated intricate carvings and tapestries. Her eyes scanned the space, quickly noting the sheer opulence. The place reeked of wealth, power, and regality clearly, she was in a palace.

Confused, Noor took a cautious step forward, her senses heightened as she tried to piece together what had happened. The silence in the air was unnerving, save for the faint sound of a breeze whispering through the hall. Then, her gaze landed on the banners hanging from the pillars, deep crimson with golden embroidery, bearing the sigil of the Achaemenid Empire. Her breath hitched, and her face paled as realization set in. Slowly, almost unwillingly, she turned to look beyond the pillars. There it was the sprawling city of Persepolis stretching into the horizon, its grandeur unchanged by time. Her home.

“Fuck me,” she muttered under her breath, a mixture of disbelief and dread washing over her. It had been years since she had last seen Persepolis, and she had no desire to return,not to the city, and certainly not to the memories it held. A faint tremble ran through her fingers as the rush of unwelcome familiarity hit her like a storm.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. “Okay… calm down, Noor. Take a nice, deep fucking breath… think.” She exhaled slowly, trying to suppress the panic bubbling inside her. “How the hell am I back in Persepolis? Instant teleportation? No, that would’ve required a level of precision and stability beyond what anyone on the boat could manage.” Her mind raced, running through possibilities. The how didn’t matter as much as the why and whoever was responsible for this wasn’t doing it out of kindness.

Her eyes narrowed as she casted a spell, her hands weaving delicate patterns in the air. A faint, shimmering light surrounded her, revealing the nature of her current state. “Not the Veil,” she murmured, her brows furrowing in intrigue. “I’m physically here, but… the spell’s detecting something off. This isn’t the physical world, either.” She clenched her fists, the realization hitting her. “A makeshift reality, huh? Alright, you bastard, I don’t know who you are or what you’re playing at, but let me tell you something—” Her voice dropped into a venomous snarl. “You don’t fuck with me and live to see the day.”

As if in response to her challenge, the sound of boots echoed down the hallway. She turned to see three Persian royal guards approaching, their spears leveled at her. Their expressions were stern, and their movements precise, a testament to their training.

“Halt!” one of them barked, his tone authoritative.

Noor smirked, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Oh, come on, boys. Haven’t we done this dance before?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she extended her forearms to them. “Go ahead, cuff me. I’ve been through this rodeo more times than you could count.”

The guards exchanged wary glances before stepping forward. They grabbed her arms roughly and pushed her ahead of them. Noor allowed it without resistance, her smirk never fading. As they marched her deeper into the palace, she let her eyes wander, taking in every detail; the layout, the positions of the guards, the potential exits.
Nostalgic memories she had tried to bury clawed their way to the surface, but she **** them down. Not now, she told herself. Focus.

They led her into a grand salon, its magnificence almost nauseating in its extravagance. Gilded decorations adorned the walls, and the ceiling was painted with scenes of Persian victories and mythological tales. At the center of the room sat a man on a golden throne, his posture regal and commanding. He wore high robes adorned with jewels, his crown glinting in the sunlight streaming through the tall windows. Noor froze for a moment, her smirk faltering as her gaze met his.

The man’s dark eyes bore into her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. He motioned with a flick of his wrist, dismissing the guards, who bowed and exited without a word. Once they were alone, he rose from his throne, his every movement deliberate and precise. He approached her slowly, his expression a mix of disappointment and judgment.

“Where have you been?” he asked, his deep voice reverberating through the hall. It was a question, but his tone carried the weight of an accusation.

Noor tilted her head, her smirk returning as she fought back the unease curling in her stomach. “Who, me?” she replied, feigning ignorance. Her voice was light and mocking, an attempt to keep control of the situation or at least to mask her uncertainty. “Sorry, Your Majesty, but you’ll have to be more specific. I’ve been in a lot of places recently.”

The man’s gaze hardened, and Noor felt the tension in the room rise. She knew this was a game, a twisted illusion meant to test her. But if she was going to be a pawn, she’d make sure to enjoy the ride and find a way to beat the mastermind at their own game.

“Don’t play games with me, child.” His voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and unwavering. “You know damn well why you are here. It’s only by sheer luck that I’m not punishing you like a commoner.” His tone was laced with judgment, not cruel but firm, like a teacher disappointed with a wayward student.

Noor tilted her head, her smirk unwavering. She was a storm contained in human form, rebellious and untamable. “Hmm, no, I don’t know why I’m here. What is it this time? Was I naughty again? Did I cause mayhem, destruction, and chaos in your precious city? Because, honestly, that sounds like me, doesn’t it?” Her words dripped with mockery, her smirk an indomitable shield.

Xerxes narrowed his eyes, his piercing gaze like a hawk sizing up its prey. “I’ve tried everything to make you see reason, child, yet you continue to disobey my orders. You act out of vanity, deluding yourself into thinking you’re free. You forget your duties to the crown. You forget your duties to me.” His voice was steady, each word striking like a hammer on an anvil.

Noor raised an eyebrow, leaning her weight on one foot as if his words were nothing more than idle chatter. “You’ve always hated that I chose my own path,” she replied, her voice casual, though her eyes glinted with restrained defiance. “Even when you found me on the streets of Persepolis, you already had a plan, didn’t you? A role to play in your grand theater of power.”

Xerxes’s expression didn’t change, though his silence spoke volumes. Noor’s smirk widened as she saw the slight twitch of his jaw. “Gods, I missed you, Dad,” she said, the word drenched in bitter sarcasm. Her tone shifted to one of disgust and disdain as she continued, “You and that insufferable, grandiose behavior you carry yourself with.”

The tension in the room crackled like static. Noor’s words hung in the air, her disdain clashing against Xerxes’s steely composure. Slowly, the imposing king rose from his throne, his golden robes flowing like liquid sunlight as he descended the steps. “Do you care so little about your family? About your people?” he asked, his voice dropping to a lower, more threatening timbre. Each step he took reverberated through the room, the sound echoing in Noor’s ears.

For a moment, her smirk faltered. She lowered her gaze, then straightened her spine as she met his approach head-on. “There was a time when I did care,” she said, her voice quieter now, tinged with an emotion she rarely showed. “A time when I hung on to every word you said, admired you, even adored you. You gave me a new life, pulled me out of the gutter, and taught me everything a child like me could learn. You even gave me someone to teach and harness my magic a mentor I looked up to, someone who shaped who I am.”

Her expression shifted. The mocking smile that had been her armor slipped away, replaced by a frown. Her tone grew serious, almost sorrowful, revealing a side of her that was usually buried beneath layers of sarcasm and bravado. “But then you changed… or maybe I just realized who you were all along.”

Xerxes came to a stop in front of her, towering over her smaller frame. His presence was as
commanding as ever, but there was something almost imperceptible in his expression, a flicker of something between pride and regret. “I’ve never hidden who I am,” he said firmly. “Why should I? This world is unforgiving, cruel, and relentless. You, more than anyone, should understand that. You were born on the streets with nothing. You saw it with your own eyes.” He paused, his gaze piercing through her. “Do you remember that day?”

Noor’s defiance wavered. She looked away, her eyes dropping to the ground as she nodded faintly. Her voice softened, tinged with a vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to show. “How could I forget that day?” she murmured. Her fingers brushed against the hem of her sleeve, a nervous gesture betraying the raw emotion she tried to hide.

Xerxes let out a low chuckle, his voice warm for the first time. “You saved my life,” he said, his tone almost nostalgic. His mind traveled back to the day a parade through Persepolis, the cheers of the crowd, and the sudden chaos when assassins attacked. “An eight-year-old girl, an orphan, risking everything to save the Great King of Persia.” His lips curled into a faint smile. “You were always my favorite.”

Noor’s head snapped up at his words. “Not much of a contest,” she shot back, her smirk returning, though her voice carried a note of truth. “My two brothers are absolute imbeciles. Gods only know how they haven’t managed to burn down the empire yet.”

“I’ve always admired your competitive spirit,” Xerxes began, his tone deceptively calm, laced with an edge of menace. “But sometimes, lessons must be learned the hard way.” He snapped his fingers, the sharp sound echoing ominously in the grand hall.

The gilded doors creaked open, and a pair of guards entered, dragging a woman between them. Her head was obscured by a coarse burlap sack, her posture slumped but struggling. Noor’s blood turned cold, her breath catching in her throat as dread clawed at her.

“No, no, no… not this again,” she whispered under her breath, her voice trembling. Her surroundings blurred for a moment as realization struck her this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. She was trapped within a memory, a cruel recreation of the day she fled Persia, a day that haunted her endlessly.

The guards reached the center of the room and, without ceremony, pulled the sack from the woman’s head. Noor’s heart sank as she saw her familiar face. Her arcane mentor, the woman who had shaped her talents and showed her the path to become Ardvi's chosen in secret the destiny she had, his mouth gagged with a cloth, her wide eyes filled with confusion and mounting terror. She looked desperately at Noor, silently begging for an explanation she could not give.

“No! Stop this!” Noor cried, stepping forward, desperation dripping from her every word. “Please, there’s no need for this! She’s innocent it was all my doing!” Her voice cracked, pleading, though deep down she knew the memory would play out as it always did, indifferent to her protests.

Xerxes remained impassive, his gaze cold as ice. “No, this is necessary,” he said with measured finality. “She knew the risks. She broke the rules. And this,” he gestured toward the trembling man, “is not your first mistake, child.”

He gave a curt nod to the nearest guard, who stepped forward, drawing a curved sword with a chilling hiss. Noor’s breath hitched as she darted toward her mentor, but Xerxes caught her wrist, his grip unyielding. “No!” she cried, tears streaming down her face as she struggled against him. “Please, don’t do this!”

The arcane teacher, her face calm despite the chaos, turned her gaze to Noor. Her eyes softened, offering silent reassurance. She nodded slowly, as if to say, It’s alright.

“No, it’s not!” Noor screamed, shaking her head furiously as if willing the memory to unravel.
The blade gleamed in the dim torchlight as it rose, and with one swift, merciless stroke, it fell. The sound of the blade slicing through the air, followed by the sickening thud, seemed to echo endlessly. Noor’s scream tore through the air, raw and unrelenting, filled with anguish as she collapsed to her knees.

Her grief ignited something within her, a torrent of fiery magic erupting from her in a wave of incandescent rage and sorrow. The room was consumed in an instant, flames licking every surface as arcane energy crackled and surged. The air grew thick with heat, and the once-pristine hall became a vision of wildfire incarnate.

Noor knelt in the center of the inferno, her body trembling with sobs as her tears fell, evaporating before they could touch the ground. The only sounds that remained were the roaring fire and her broken cries.

After what felt like an eternity, the flames began to recede, leaving the room scorched and silent. From the shadows, a figure emerged, cloaked in darkness. Its glowing red eyes pierced through the gloom like embers, its presence oppressive and suffocating.

Noor’s sobs quieted as she raised her head, her eyes red-rimmed but burning with residual fury. She wiped her tears hastily, forcing herself to face the figure. “You didn’t show me this to teach me a lesson, did you?” she said, her voice hoarse but steady.

The shadowy figure regarded her with an air of detached curiosity, its voice deep and resonant. “No,” it replied, the single word reverberating through the room like a drumbeat. “That’s not why I brought you here.”

Noor pushed herself to her feet, her legs unsteady but her determination unbroken. Her eyes blazed with raw emotion sadness, anger, and defiance. “Then why?” she demanded, her voice gaining strength. “Why **** me to relive this nightmare? What do you want? why do you wanted me to suffer spirit… if that’s what you are, I can tell you are powerful if you can manifest something as real and lifelike like this.”

The figure produced what looked like a smirk as he responded “Indeed, I’m not a spirit. But what I am I can’t tell you. That you fill soon enough when you regroup with the others.” Noor eyes narrowed clearly distrusting this figure. “I showed you this not as a lesson but as a reminder.”

“A reminder?” Noor’s voice cracked with fury. “Of what? Of my suffering? Of the reason I’ve been running my entire life?”

The figure’s smirk, faint but unmistakable, appeared like a shadow across its face. “A reminder of your purpose,” it said, its voice cutting through her anger. “You were not shown this to wallow in pain. That is not my role. That’s Ardvi’s duty and something you need to face and learn from. Your task is to remember who you were and understand what you must become.”

Noor’s anger simmered, her expression twisting with skepticism and disdain. “What I must become?” she echoed mockingly. “And why should I trust you, spirit?”

The figure stepped closer, its presence growing even more suffocating. “Because what lies ahead will make this memory seem like a fleeting whisper,” it said ominously. “You will face creatures of such darkness that even the underworld shuns them. You, Kayn and your companions will need every ounce of your power and more. This was not to make you suffer, sorceress. It was to prepare you.”

It flicked its wrist, and a swirling portal of obsidian light materialized before her, casting eerie shadows across the charred room.

Noor’s anger cooled into a sharp, calculating curiosity. She studied the figure, her distrust slowly giving way to intrigue. “You’re right about one thing,” she said finally, a smirk returning to her lips as she strode toward the portal. “I know exactly what I am. And that’s what scares them shitless.”

Without another word, she stepped into the portal, her smirk lingering as the memory dissolved into darkness.