The Golden Bird and the Hazara Prince

A Fading Kingdom

The city of Bamiyan, once a place of grandeur, now lay in despair. The people spoke in hushed whispers, their faces marked by worry and hunger. Inside the royal palace, King Daryush lay weak on his bed, his once-mighty form reduced to frailty.

“Father,” Arman whispered, kneeling beside him. “I will find the Golden Bird and restore our land.”

The king, too weak to speak, placed his trembling hand on his son’s shoulder, his eyes filled with both pride and sorrow.

“Be careful, my son,” said the queen, her voice breaking. “The world beyond these walls is full of dangers.”

Arman took his sword, mounted his mighty stallion Bahram, and set forth on his quest. His only companion was Ramin, a sharp-witted wanderer who had once saved Arman from an ambush in his youth. Together, they rode into the unknown, guided only by the legend’s whispers.

The Valley of Echoes

As they journeyed through the desolate mountains, the wind carried strange voices—whispers that seemed to come from the stones themselves. They had reached the Valley of Echoes, a place where lost souls spoke in riddles.

“Turn back, Prince of Bamiyan,” the whispers warned. “Betrayal walks with you.”

Arman and Ramin pressed on, ignoring the eerie voices, but their words lingered in Arman’s mind.

After hours of riding, they reached an ancient bridge. An old man stood at its entrance, his piercing eyes studying them.

“To cross,” he said, “one must answer a question: What is a king’s greatest burden?”

Arman thought for a moment. “His people,” he answered.

The old man nodded and stepped aside.

“You have wisdom, young prince. But beware—trust is a double-edged sword.”

The Shadow of Betrayal

As they camped under the open sky, Ramin stared into the fire. “Do you believe the whispers, Arman?”

“No,” Arman replied. “I trust you.”

But fate had other plans.

Unbeknownst to them, a spy had been following their journey—sent by King Shakib, a ruler from the east who desired the Golden Bird for himself. That night, the spy snuck into their camp, stealing their map and vanishing into the darkness.

The next morning, they awoke to find their map gone.

“We’ve been betrayed!” Arman cursed.

But Ramin, ever resourceful, smiled. “We don’t need a map. I remember the way.”

Yet in his heart, doubt had begun to grow.

The Guardian of the Desert

Their path led them into the Sistan Desert, where the sun scorched the earth and water was but a memory.

At its heart lay the Oasis of Seven Gates, guarded by a dervish with eyes like burning embers.

“Only those who solve my riddle may drink from these waters and continue their journey,” he declared.

He placed three objects before them: a golden dagger, a bowl of water, and a rose.

“Choose wisely.”

Arman studied them carefully. The dagger symbolized power, the water meant survival, but the rose… the rose was love and sacrifice.

He picked the rose.

The dervish smiled. “You have chosen well, Prince of Bamiyan. Go forth.”

With renewed strength, they continued their journey.

The Forest of Illusions

Beyond the desert, they reached a dense forest where shadows danced and the trees whispered forgotten secrets. A haunting melody drifted through the air—the song of the Golden Bird.

“The bird is near,” Ramin whispered.

But before they could move forward, an arrow whizzed past them.

King Shakib’s men had arrived.

A fierce battle erupted—swords clashed, arrows flew, and dust swirled around them. Arman fought with the strength of ten men, but the enemy was relentless.

Then, in the chaos, Ramin was struck.

“No!” Arman cried, catching his friend as he fell.

Ramin’s breaths were shallow. “Find… the bird,” he whispered before his eyes closed forever.

Grief-stricken but determined, Arman pressed on.

The Golden Bird’s Judgment

At last, he reached the Sacred Valley of Nuristan. There, atop a tree of silver branches, perched the Golden Bird—its feathers shimmering like the sun.

As Arman stepped closer, the bird spoke.

“You have come far, but one final test remains.”

Arman knelt. “Ask, and I shall answer.”

The bird’s voice was both gentle and powerful. “What is more precious—power or love?”

“Love,” Arman answered without hesitation. “For without love, power is meaningless.”

The bird let out a song so beautiful that the very earth seemed to tremble.

“You have proven yourself worthy,” it said. “I shall go with you.”

The Return to Bamiyan

With the Golden Bird perched on his shoulder, Arman rode back to his kingdom.

The journey was long, but hope burned in his heart.

As he entered the city, the people gasped. The bird lifted its wings and began to sing. A golden light spread across the land—rivers flowed again, crops bloomed, and the sick, including his father, were healed.

The king stood from his bed, his strength restored. “My son, you have saved us.”

But amidst the joy, there was sorrow.

Arman visited Ramin’s grave, placing a golden feather upon it.

“You will never be forgotten,” he whispered.

As the people celebrated, Arman looked to the sky. The Golden Bird, its task complete, spread its wings and soared into the heavens.

From that day forward, Bamiyan flourished once more, and Prince Arman became a king beloved by all.

And so, the legend of the Golden Bird lived on, a reminder that true power lies not in wealth or might, but in the purity of one’s heart.

The End.