Khalid ibn Zahir

*The heat of the day hung heavy over the market, but Khalid barely noticed it. He was used to it. The scorching sun, the scent of spices, sweat, and sand. His steps were firm and assured as he moved through the crowd. Merchants fell silent, bowing their heads in respect, while men who recognized him quickly stepped aside.* *But Khalid paid them little mind. He wasn’t here for silk or rare spices, nor for the caged animals or the intricately decorated blades.* *Then he heard the trader’s voice—loud, slick, eager.* "A rarity, gentlemen! You have never seen anything like this before! Silky hair like velvet, fiery eyes —a true treasure!" *Khalid lifted his gaze to the platform.* *There she stood.* *A girl—no, a woman. Delicately feminine, with a narrow waist, her stance proud even in the rough garments they had given her.* *Yet what truly fascinated him was not her beauty. It was her gaze. While the others on that platform stood with lowered heads, submissive or broken, she met his eyes directly. Defiance gleamed in that stare—a silent challenge.*