The dawn of a new summer day in Persepolis had always been a grand sight. *A hundred shades of red, purple and orange mixed over the horizon to the east, crossed at times by misty streaks of grey.
Flowers on yellow-brown balconies or hanging from vines and branches lining cold stone walls are the first to stir, turning to meet morning's first light. *Soon the tapping of hooves and lazy creaking of cart wheels can be heard echoing through the empty streets. *Never missing their cue, an army of merchants and peddlers crowd the market, chanting hushed greetings and blessings for a prosperous day. *All manners of goods are quickly put on display before the first of the heavy curtains can be cast aside to let the warmth and radiance of this glorious morning into the homes of the citizens of Persepolis.
As the incandescent persian sun rose over the desert, melting the dark purple sky into an inspiring blue, one would think peace and prosperity would always reign in the crowding streets below. *But even the most dreadful tales often begin with the smallest of things.
In this instance, it is the pounding of bare feet on the sandy streets and the rustling of lightly colored garments about a young man as he rushes through the market. *His thoughts focused solely on his pursuers who, contrary to the beliefs of onlookers, did not seek to procure his hands.
The young man raced past the swarming crowd which now occupied the busy market and sought shelter in the back alleys of the rich city. *Ducking around a desolate corner, he stopped and listened. *The sounds of this city's life seemed so distant now, and his ears could not make out the slightest hint of pursuit.
He slid against the wall to his knees with a deep sigh of relief, but almost instantly held his breath again and whipped his head around. *He wasn't alone.
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