Sethar watched from a balcony as the fury of gods washed over the miraculous An Ramash. His nursemaid had told many tales about the caravan, and the Fringed Prince supposedly gaining his title from a djinn as a wish, but he had never dared to sneak out and carouse around among the tents.
Now the djinns seemed to return that wish.
When Seth reached the balcony’s edge, he only saw a spiraling vortex of crimson flames, as if a young Sun was born among the tents. From that distance, it looked like a performance, a bunch of tightened ribbons uncurling, caressing the tents with many arms – then he heard the noise. The screams. He sniffed the smoke in the air, his eyes spotted the people fleeing from the crumbling tents, and he recognized the previously indiscernible black spots: corpses. Remains of entire families that had been preparing for tomorrow a minute ago, now burned to ash.
The ember-colored ribbons showed no mercy, blowing through An Ramash like a wind until nothing but ash and soot remained.
Seth’s fingers turned white, clutching the hilt of his sword. He should have done something, leaped off the balcony, commanded the voices to unleash a cyclone carrying him into that inferno to blow it away – yet he didn’t.
Before Seth could finish considering the right course, an unfamiliar azure flared up in An Ramash, battling the crimson. Fire fought fire, sparks jumped off the devastating duel, further destroying the homes of helpless bystanders. The whole world turned into a cavalcade of rumbling flames, sizzling lightning, and blue brilliance as if the sky itself was caught alight.
Seth just stood, unable to turn away from the battle of gods. Red, blue, and white swirled before scattering, trampling the last of An Ramash’s tents. The lake, the pride of the Qajari rose from its slumber like a coiled snake waiting to strike, lunging and grabbing a single man.
Seth couldn’t watch any longer.
He felt he was waxing and growing at the same time. He was nothing compared to the unleashed djinns, a lowly human tampering with magic, yet against the burned corpses, his guilt was overwhelming.
No. Not his guilt.
He turned around and flew down the familiar stairs, following the secret corridors, entering through mystic doors. Yet he couldn’t escape the destruction.
The mirror-sheen steel melted from the walls, flowing like water, gathering into pools and solidifying into abstract shapes. Soot-stains and bent metal lay everywhere, the tubular lanterns hanging broken.
Chai sat under a somewhat preserved wall, holding one arm forward and ripping her clothes with the other. She was burned, the skin on her shoulders had turned red and even her chin bore the flame’s touch.
“You’re aware of what you did… aren’t you?” Seth asked.
Chai looked at him like a poisonous snake about to pounce, then hissed when her wounded hand touched the floor. Seth should have felt an instinct to protect her. To rush to his daughter, pick her up, and run until they reach a healer. Or rage because she carelessly got hurt.
He felt neither, only a cold sensation sneaking into his chest. He felt betrayed, abused, with more deaths clinging to his conscience than he could forgive anyone.
“I’ve got more pressing matters than your lecturing,” Chai said.
Seth shook his head. “No, you don’t. I know you’re convinced otherwise, but you’re wrong. We had a deal.”
A bitter, unwilling smile crawled onto Sethar’s face. He was pathetic. He should have known it would end this way. Rani had told him so, and yet, for a fleeting moment, Seth had believed they could achieve anything. Because love is capable of that.
But Seth was weak and unprepared, and Chai had abused his feelings without regret.
“We agreed that I won’t drag anyone else into this,” Chai said. “I kept my word.”
“No, you didn’t!” Seth lashed out. He didn’t care if anyone could hear them. He didn’t care about anything anymore. “Or will you deny your part in turning An Ramash into a smoking wreck?”
Chai cocked an eyebrow. That was it. That was all she felt after facing the catastrophic consequences of her decisions – slight surprise.
“How’s a couple of demons fighting each other my fault?”
“Those demons leveled an entire city,” Seth said, folding his arms to mask his shaking hands. “What have you done, Chai?”
“Nothing I regret,” she replied. “They were looking for the heart and its power source.”
“How can you not regret? Dozens, if not hundreds died. People who knew nothing about djinns, Forebearers, or your grief or vengeance. They looked forward to another day, and now they are dead.”
“Did I burn down their homes?” Chai struck back. “Did I ask them to harbor demons?”
“So that’s their sin? Something they deserve to die for?”
Seth was shouting, his voice echoing through the molten corridors. Something revealed itself inside his heart. A feeling he never thought to feel towards Chai. Pity. Disdain. The realization that Chai was just as stupid as everybody else. She didn’t understand anything.
“Perhaps,” she replied softly.
Seth rushed to Chai, grabbing the neck of her tunic and pulling her up. “You’re no god, Chai. You can’t decide upon life and death.”
Chai screamed, the magic pendant in her neck shining with power. The walls trembled from the force that flung Seth backward, smashing him against the floor and forcing the air from his lungs.
You aren’t my father. Those were Chai’s words after learning about it, and now it was obvious she had never changed her mind. Seth wasn’t a father to Chai; he was a tool. A means to a terrible end.
“How dare you blame me?” she screamed. “If you have a problem with that calamity they unleashed, go lecture them!”
Seth struggled to his feet, fighting the pain stinging in his chest. “You can’t deny your responsibility.”
He had promised something to Rani. Among the scattered ruins of Diraw—an oddly familiar scenery—he had promised to stop Chai should it come to it. And it did. The time to unsheathe the Sword of Shardeen, to allow his rising temper to force Chai against the wall with an unyielding tempest, ripping her trinkets away.
But he refused. Even if the whole world collapsed because of his broken oath, even imagining the disappointed face of his brother, he refused to harm his own daughter.
“You’ve brought the djinns here, Chai. You started experimenting on their hearts like they were rare treasures. If you can’t see your fault in this, that’s because you don’t wish to.”
Chai’s jaw clenched, battling with a snarky remark tickling her tongue – then everything cooled down. The fire in her eyes disappeared, her anger subdued, even her attention turned away.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “What’s done is done. I can’t do anything about it, and frankly, I don’t care. I need to repair the Room, since the efrit destroyed most of it. Have anything else to say?”
“Stop this, please,” Seth said quietly. “End this unreasonable struggle towards the impossible.”
“Impossible? Where have you been during these past months, father? I can turn people immortal. If you still refuse to believe, then you’re blind.”
Seth took a hesitant step towards Chai, tears gathering in his eyes. “No. You are blind. This path has no end, no matter how many steps you take. You’re only ruining yourself and everyone around you. The dead are dead, no power can change that. Please…” Seth reached a hand towards her. “Let him go.”
“You wanted to help me. You claimed to believe me. Did you lie?”
So the battle wasn’t quite over, as Chai sent a last sharpened dagger flying into Sethar’s heart. He knew that was pure manipulation, and it hurt more than the accusation itself.
“No. I believed you. I held onto hope like you, but it was in vain. Destroying everyone who stands in your way won’t heal your wounds. Please, let me help you find a better path.”
“I won’t back away now, so close to achieving my goal!” Chai replied. Her voice was cracked and hysterical. Father and daughter stood staring at each other, grasping at something they refused to let go of, yet both ideas slipped from their fingers. They spoke in the same broken voice, throwing their anguish at each other, only Chai clung to her dream, while Seth clung to her.
“It’s merely a setback, nothing else,” Chai said, turning away from Seth. “If you can’t believe in me, you may go.”
She had chosen her search over her father. He hadn’t been there for her before, and now he was a hindrance, something to be rid of. Chai walked past him, stumbling through the corridor, severing the connection that had barely formed between them.
The pandemonium striking An Ramash was even more despairing up-close. Seth walked through the blackened wreckages, passing grieving families, avoiding faces and people altogether. He was a stranger, someone who knew nothing and understood even less about their woe.
A man and his adolescent son were struggling to lift a somewhat preserved wooden beam, but they failed. Sweat and tears dripped from the man’s short mustache, the boy was scowling from the strain, yet the beam stayed in place.
Seth shouldn’t have cared. No help could compensate for such devastation. Gestures were just grains of sand, unrecognizable, irrelevant, lost in the grand scheme of things – yet he couldn’t help himself.
That was Chai’s thinking. And Rani’s. And every other prince’s, striving for some noble goal, but Sethar couldn’t join them. Maybe his help was a grain of sand, but if nobody took the role of the grain, the desert wouldn’t exist.
Seth touched the magical armband and grabbed hold of the beam. The wood was still hot enough to burn his palm, but the pain was somehow welcome. He practically tore the beam from the other two, throwing it aside where it wouldn’t bother anyone.
“Tha… Thank you,” the man said, falling to his knees to rummage through the remains of a large tent. He picked up a small miniature inside a tiny, bent medallion, raising it so gently as if he feared to further destroy it. The miniature resembled a young woman, although judging by how faded its colors were, it must have been painted years or even decades ago.
The man burst into tears, but his face was smiling. “At least this remains, if not you…”
Seth turned heel, hurrying off in a random direction. He didn’t want to know the story. A daughter? A wife? Whichever it was, he could have fallen to his knees along with the man if he stayed longer, and no power or bribe would pick him up again.
He sneaked past between two tents miraculously surviving the destruction, although they were both covered in ash, and headed towards the lake. He searched for the Fringed Prince, the fabled ruler of An Ramash, yet he couldn’t see him anywhere. Asking around didn’t help either, most people just shook their heads, staring at the remains of their shattered lives with blank expressions. The Ramashi were reluctant to believe their fate. To believe in the deaths, the lost treasures, the dread, and they were especially reluctant to move on.
Someone chuckled in his ears. It wasn’t the Ramashi, not even someone from this plane. It was a voice like the ones bedeviling him since that dreaded day with the chair, now luring him towards a tent. Someone was doing magic there.
The tent itself was barely recognizable, the cloth had basically evaporated as if the tantruming efrit blew up exactly here. The surrounding space was scattered with unusual objects in chaotic disorder: jewels, jars, candles, lanterns: like a strange collection from an eccentric gleaner.
For most people.
Seth, however, could hear soft laughter emanating from each of them, proving they weren’t random junk – they were all magical trinkets.
A young woman sat inside the circle of objects, picking up and throwing them aside, struggling to create order amidst the chaos. Besides her was a not much older man, with a rust-furred kitten lying in his lap, somehow unharmed among the calamities. The man wasn’t so fortunate; he hasn’t had an inch of skin unstained by soot, and his naked back showed a wide band of burn marks. Even his fingers were wounded, probably from trying to lift a burning beam like Seth himself.
Between the two was a third body, cloaked in white lint. The woman kept turning her eyes towards it, trying to keep back her sobbing with trembling lips, until she noticed Seth standing nearby.
“Can we help you?” she asked, rubbing her eyes before turning towards the visitor. When their eyes met, Seth froze in place, losing himself in the pearlescent gaze. It was like a jewel, a gem so beautiful and clear, unachievable by human hands.
“I’m… looking for the prince,” he said, somewhat embarrassed. “But it seems I’ve found something else. Mejais of the Ramashi Circle, I presume?”
“No. This used to be the Fourth Wish,” she said. “A lamp shop, even if it looks otherwise. The prince didn’t have courtly mejais. You heard about him?”
Her companion shook his head, wiping his forehead, although it helped neither the sweat nor the soot-stains. “I haven’t. But if a third of Nazrik’s legends are true, I don’t suspect we ever will.”
His cold, blue-tinted eyes turned towards the lint-covered body. Nazrik, the Ramashi miracle-worker, a legendary mejai – and an efrit. Someone with enough power to create such a catastrophe, but from the grief-stricken looks of both the woman and the man, Seth couldn’t imagine him destroying his own city.
“I never knew that Nazrik, the fabled spirit in the lamp was bartering with trinkets,” Seth said, trying to ignore his overwhelming shame at being a part of his death.
The woman smiled so bitterly it cast a shadow over the scorching sun. “Clever ruse, isn’t it? People gossiped that he was impersonating the Fringed Prince, too, so maybe they both died today.”
“I’m sorry… honestly.”
“Who’re you anyways?” the man asked, putting a hand on a sword lying nearby.
Sethar hesitated. He was blind to politics because of Rani’s reluctance to bother Seth with such matters, and he especially didn’t know how ordinary Ramashi reacted to princes or their relatives – but he was tired of constant lies.
“Sethar… Osirei.”
The man clutched the hilt firmer, pulling it into his lap before being stopped by the woman’s strict gaze. “Don’t be rude. You should pay attention to your temper before… you know. Things get heated. Welcome, Sethar.”
Seth could understand less than half of their conversation, but asking questions wasn’t appropriate. Not then, not there.
“Zaira,” the blue-eyed man said. “Osirei is the family that has ruled Shardiz for over a millennium. It’s Idranil’s surname.”
“I won’t deny it,” Seth replied. “But I’m neither as famous nor as dangerous as Rani. You have nothing to fear, I just… came to help.”
This was all true, although Seth himself was unsure how he could help. His initial plan had been to approach the Fringed Prince and offer his aid as the Keeper of Shardiz and a mejai, but now he had lost his footing – again. He was afloat among the signs of destruction he was responsible for, waiting for the opportunity to arise.
“The prince of Shardiz never did me any wrong, and every helping hand is welcome,” Zaira said.
Soft, rhythmic ripples approached from the lake, like footsteps over the water. When Seth glanced towards it, his knees started shaking and he forgot to blink for a second. A boy was running across the lake. His feet trod on flowing water as others walked on ice or even marble floor, not even losing his balance.
“He’s gone. I looked everywhere, but I only found blood where he smashed into the ground,” the boy said, pausing to gasp for air, ignoring the shocked Sethar. His eyes were similar to those of Zaira, only more like aquamarine. As if it wasn’t mere irises bordering his pupils, but the most spectacular gems out of pure haughtiness.
“Where could he go? He was badly injured, wasn’t he?”
“Who are you speaking of?” Seth asked.
The boy looked at Zaira, who passed the burden to the man.
“Baldra,” he said. “The Scourge of the Isles, and destroyer of this city.”
Seth was about to nod, collecting this new information, but that felt inappropriate, so he repressed it. The efrit responsible wasn’t Nazrik, but someone Seth should have definitely heard about by now. The Scourge of the Isles sounded like someone important.
His gaze wandered towards the gently rippling lake, then to the boy. Something clicked at that moment. “You’re a marid.”
“I am,” the boy replied. “Who else could levitate an entire lake?”
“Salar!” Zaira lashed out.
The marid looked at her, confused, but he didn’t question the strict tone, turning towards the wounded man instead. “How are you?”
He raised an arm, concentrating for a moment. A flame of unnatural blue color appeared between his fingers, but it was so weak that a slight breeze extinguished it almost immediately.
Seth took an unwilling step back. He had finally woken from his gloomy dream and realized the truth standing—or rather sitting—in front of him.
The blue flame battling the crimson fire, the crackling lightning, the lake coming alive… He was conversing with the spirits whose battle had decimated An Ramash.
“You are all djinns!” he gasped.
He should have fled, in face of these many spirits. Lake Olaitan had almost killed him before, and that was one insane, worn-out marid, not three different djinns.
But a single spark of reason inside his mind whispered a more soothing thought. If these djinns had truly wanted to destroy An Ramash, they wouldn’t have remained to grieve among the wreckage. More likely, they were trying to defeat their enemy, the one with crimson flames, only they couldn’t restrain their own power.
Like Seth himself when forced to battle.
“Not all of us,” Zaira said. “Just me and Salar. Hain is… well, we aren’t sure. A few hours ago we were convinced he was human. Welcome to An Ramash, Sethar. Things like that are quite normal around here. At least they used to be, before it all turned to ash, thanks to a madwoman.”
“What… What do you mean?” Seth asked. His heartbeat dampened every other sound, waiting for the moment they mentioned Chai’s name. He honestly hoped it wasn’t a time for complete confession because Seth wasn’t strong enough to oppose them. If these djinns decided to kill him, he couldn’t have resisted.
“Does it matter?” Hain said. “If Baldra survived, we only made him angrier. Our smallest problem is larger than looking for people to blame.”
Salar put an arm on his shoulder. “We weakened him. He won’t return for a while.”
“But he will,” Zaira said. “Now that Nazrik is dead, every human is an enemy, and since we opposed him, so are we.” She turned her pearlescent eyes towards the body and sighed. “You should have told us about your past with him, old man.”
“So this efrit made a vow of vengeance against humanity?” Seth asked, trying to piece together things without trampling on their feelings. Or getting them angry.
“When Nazrik’s spirit left his body after being siphoned of his power, Baldra started burning everything,” Zaira said. “First An Ramash, but if Salar hadn’t stopped him, Qajar would have been next.”
“Siphoned…” Seth repeated. His eyes opened wide as the realization tore into his mind like a knife. “They were looking for the heart and its power source… Chai, how can you be so foolish…?”
He hadn’t understood what that short sentence meant. He was left out of Chai’s search for a source to feed the broken heart, and only Latif and his strange contacts had helped Chai secure something – or someone, as it was now obvious.
The three remarkable pairs of eyes turned towards Seth simultaneously. Salar was the least judgmental, he just kept looking from Zaira to Hain. “Is that the witch?”
“Yes,” Zaira replied quietly. “She was feeding Nazrik’s power to the heart.”
“I assume you’re familiar with her,” Hain said, rising.
Seth took a deep breath and bowed. It was time to confess and leave his fate in the hands of the spirits. If Temitope heard him, he would have smiled in satisfaction – although these spirits weren’t the same as those the Hanit boy spoke of.
“I’m responsible for things escalating so much,” Seth said. “I should have stopped Chai, but I couldn’t.”
Zaira shook her head. “None of us could. She’s freakishly strong.”
“Hold on,” Hain said, walking up to Seth. “Sethar, Sethar… You’re not just some relative of Idranil. You’re his younger brother! You’re the Keeper of Secrets, the Dervish, the rumored strongest mejai. You could have stopped Chai.”
Seth remained silent during the verbal punching he received. Hain’s words were fair, and he wasn’t the first to berate Seth.
“Calm down,” Zaira said, gently touching Hain’s arm as if she was afraid he would explode. Or, considering the previous demonstration, burst into azure flames and burn everything that had survived Baldra’s rage.
Zaira touched her lips against the wounded skin on Hain’s back. It seemed to calm the fire rising in his ice-blue eyes, but before Seth could let out a sigh of relief, the pearls turned to him.
“We arrived late,” Zaira said. “What’s your excuse?”
“Chai…” Seth began, but couldn’t continue. The words gathered on his tongue, threatening to tear his heart out if he spoke them aloud. But he had lied and denied too much. No more.
“Chai is my daughter,” he said through his gritted teeth.
The djinns blinked in unison.
“That… explains things,” Zaira muttered.
Hain shared a long look with her.
“Congratulations. The kid’s really smart,” he said. “But if you really want to help, I can think of a few things a mejai is more useful for than cleaning debris.”
Seth let out a breath. So his day of punishment was yet to come. The blue fire, the white lightning, and the ice-cold water all remained in their place for now.
“That’s why I came, yes,” he said. “I know Chai walks a dangerous path, and I want to prevent anyone else from falling victim to her madness.”
“I’m not concerned with Chai,” Hain said, looking towards the lake, still searching for the still-missing corpse of the Scourge of the Isles. Seth had never heard about this legendary efrit, but seeing what he could do, he wasn’t blaming Hain. If he returned and no lake was there to drown his flames, more could be lost.
“You should be, though,” Zaira said, massaging her temple. “We gathered a remarkable number of possible threats in such a short time. How dangerous is Chai?”
“I’m unsure,” Sethar replied. “Her goal is impossible, but how many catastrophes can she cause while chasing it…? It’s hard to say. And if she somehow deciphers the Foremagic, then I can’t even imagine what she could achieve.”
“Foremagic?”
Of course, those were made-up words unfamiliar to anyone besides him. Even most provincial rulers were unaware of the Secret Rooms.
“I guess it’s those weird machines we saw,” Salar said, cutting off Seth’s thoughts. “Were they magic?”
“No, they were more science. Like Adeet’s constructions, but with lightning,” Zaira replied.
Hain cleared his throat. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”
“Yes,” Seth replied. “I think so, too.”