The night sky above Nuri shimmered with a blanket of stars, but the quiet harbor below told a story steeped in hidden sorrow. Under the shroud of darkness, figures moved like whispers—silent, careful, and burdened by more than physical chains. The rescued slaves—men, women, and even a few children—were ushered off the merchant vessel and quietly guided through the back routes of the city, cloaked to shield them from curious eyes.
Their bare feet touched Nuri's soil for the first time, and though the earth was solid beneath them, their hearts remained adrift in uncertainty. A few glanced nervously at the guards surrounding them, unsure if these were saviors or new jailers. The air smelled faintly of salt and ashwood smoke from distant hearths. In the quiet night, the sound of their shallow, guarded breathing echoed louder than footsteps.
