The night breathed a warm, honeyed air over Sadiq if as he wandered, alone, through his private garden—a secluded paradise unseen by common eyes, hidden behind a high stone wall overgrown with jasmine and climbing rose. Under a sky strewn with stars, each bloom seemed to shimmer with life, as if these precious plants understood they were set apart for his gaze alone. The air was sweet with layers of fragrance, a heady tapestry of myrrh and frankincense drifting from his private balcony nearby, mingling with the rich floral notes of his garden—a masterpiece cultivated over generations.

Torchlight cast a soft, amber glow, throwing shadows that danced among the plants. Sadiq took measured steps along the sanded path, his figure almost a silhouette as he moved past towering cypress and sleek olive trees that stood sentinel around his inner sanctuary. A fountain of white marble lay at the garden’s heart, its water catching the torchlight in rippling, silver glints. The steady burble filled the air, blending with the occasional night-bird’s call, an unbroken symphony that soothed and centered him. For this was his refuge: the one place he allowed himself to simply be without the demands of rule pressing upon him.

He sank onto a stone bench, half-covered with pale flowering vines, and allowed himself a rare moment to close his eyes, his usual air of imperiousness softening. Here, surrounded by beauty, Sadiq could feel the weight of his empire recede from his shoulders, replaced by something older, more sacred.

Sadiq trailed a hand over the petals of a moonflower, the white blossom opening its soft heart in the coolness of night. His fingers lingered on its delicate softness, tracing the veins in the petals, a stark contrast to the cold iron of trade ledgers and weapons he touched by day. It was, perhaps, a silent communion with nature, though he would never describe it as such. He merely relished the bloom’s silent obedience, its perfection within his command. For everything was under his command.