The princess’s gaze was steady as the king began the tale, her mind already grasping the thread of sorrow woven into the words that followed. The flickering candlelight cast shadows on the walls, echoing the gravity of the king’s voice.
“This is the tale of Mahin, a Pari whose love was bound to a prince whose heart was torn by war,” the king began, his voice heavy with the weight of the story. “Mahin’s beauty was unmatched, her hair a dark cascade of night, and her eyes as bright as the first stars that appeared in the twilight sky. Yet, it was not her beauty that set her apart, but her compassion for the world’s suffering.”
The princess sat forward, her brow furrowed. "What do you mean, Father? What suffering did Mahin see?"
The king looked at her, his gaze full of sorrow. "Mahin’s life was one of peace and quiet joy, until she crossed paths with Prince Arash, the heir to a kingdom torn apart by endless war. He was a prince unlike any other—handsome, strong, and noble—but his kingdom was in ruins, besieged by enemies on all sides. His heart, though strong, was heavy with the weight of his people’s suffering. Arash longed for peace, but in a world consumed by violence, it seemed unreachable."
The princess’s eyes softened. "And Mahin… she loved him despite the turmoil?"
The king nodded. "She did. Their first meeting was nothing like the stories of fated lovers. It was not a moment of chance, but of necessity. Arash had come to the mountains seeking counsel from the wise women who lived there. Mahin, ever compassionate, was among them. She spoke with him about the deep wounds of the land, the pain that seemed to run through the hearts of everyone caught in the conflict. It was in those moments of shared sorrow that Arash began to see Mahin not only as a beautiful woman, but as someone who understood the brokenness of the world."
"Did he fall in love with her?" the princess asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Yes," the king said softly. "In the heart of the mountains, where the sounds of war could barely reach, Arash found peace in Mahin’s presence. He admired her wisdom and her strength, for she did not run from the pain of the world. Instead, she sought to understand it, to heal it where she could. In her eyes, he saw the hope of a future where the war could end, where people could live without fear. And he loved her for that—more than for her beauty, more than for her grace."
The princess clenched her hands, as though she could feel the weight of the story herself. "But why was it sorrowful? Why did it end in tragedy?"
The king’s voice grew somber. "Because Arash’s kingdom was caught in the web of endless war, with no end in sight. The bloodshed was relentless, and Mahin saw that the very land she loved, the earth she walked upon, was being scarred by the violence. She knew that Arash was fighting a battle not only for his people, but for his soul. The cost of this battle was more than he could bear alone. In a moment of deep understanding, Mahin made the choice to give him the only thing she had—her immortality."
The princess gasped. "She gave her life?"
"Yes," the king said. "But not in the way you might think. Mahin did not fall on the battlefield or in the throes of violence. She offered her immortality in a different way. She went to the ancient forest, where the oldest and most powerful magic lay dormant. She performed a ritual of peace, offering herself as a sacrifice to bind the forces of war. In exchange for her immortality, she called upon the earth itself to carry her essence into the land, to heal the wounds of the kingdom and to bring an end to the war."
The princess sat in stunned silence. "She gave everything for peace?"
The king nodded gravely. "Yes. Mahin’s act of love was not a simple thing. She knew that by giving up her immortality, she would cease to exist in the way she once did, her essence fading with time. But she also knew that by doing so, the violence that plagued the land would cease. The war would end. Her final act was to release her spirit to the winds, where it would carry the message of peace to the hearts of those who fought."
The princess's voice trembled. "And Arash… did he know? Did he understand?"
"He did," the king said, his voice thick with emotion. "Arash, upon learning of Mahin’s sacrifice, was struck with grief. But in his grief, he found the strength to end the war. With Mahin’s love and sacrifice echoing in his heart, he called for peace, and the forces of war finally dissipated. The kingdom began to rebuild, the wounds of the land slowly healing. But Arash never forgot Mahin. Her memory lived on in him, in every decision he made, in every act of kindness he performed. He became a king beloved by all, not for his might, but for his wisdom and his compassion."
The princess wiped away a tear, her heart aching with the story. "Was there no other way? Couldn’t they have been together without her sacrifice?"
The king’s voice softened. "Sometimes, my dear, love demands sacrifices that we cannot understand. Mahin’s love for Arash was not one of simple choice. She knew that peace could not come without cost. And she chose to bear that cost, not for herself, but for the world."
The princess sat in silence, lost in thought, as the weight of the story settled in her chest. In the stillness of the chamber, the only sound was the flicker of the candlelight, casting shadows that seemed to echo Mahin’s sacrifice—a love so deep that it could change the world.
Finally, the princess spoke. "Mahin’s love was the purest kind of love, wasn't it? A love that asked for nothing in return but the peace of others."
"Yes," the king said quietly. "And it was that love that healed the kingdom, just as it healed the heart of the man who lost her."