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xneens · 4 years ago

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thank u, next (ft. loki)

Warnings: angst, swearing, jealousy, mentions of sex

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: A new team member in the group shakes things up for the super soldier.

Or: In which Steve casts you aside for a Carter only to regret his decision when he sees you with the God of Mischief.

"Yeet."

Swiveling your chair, you saw the empty pint of ice cream hit garbage can, bouncing off the rim and dropping on the floor with a light thump. You looked at Tony, shaking your head. "You've been hanging out with Peter too much."

"Why, thank you." Tony replied, smirking at you. "So, tell me, you sexy vixen, how do you feel with Thor bringing Loki? You were quiet during the whole argument that almost ended with Barton ripping out his eye."

You shrugged, the heels Tony had bought earlier drawing your attention to your feet. "I'm fine. I don't really care, I mean, I wasn't with you guys when New York happened so I don't really think I get to have an opinion about whether the mind-controlled God of Lies gets a spot in the team."

"You realize your on the team, right? I'm pretty sure your opinion matters especially with the mass murderer joining." Tony replied, accidentally hitting himself with the candy cane in his hands. "I really thought you were going to side with Cap on this one. You always do."

It wasn't a secret that Steve Rogers wasn't completely on board with the plan. That was pushing it; in other words: Steve Rogers despised the plan. If he could kill it, he would've. When Thor had proposed the plan to bring Loki on the team (a punishment from Odin himself)—trying to convince everyone he was "good" now—less than a handful had let him continue speaking. The rest wanted to riot. You had just sat there, a smirk on your face as you watched the six of them fight with each other while Fury shook his head, looking like a disappointed father.

When everyone had came to an agreement on Loki's trial period, there had been pages of rules on what he was restricted on doing including magic and stabbing. Of course, it was very specific so even the God of Mischief couldn't find a loophole. Maybe he could if he tried, which he probably will.

Clicking your tongue, you shrugged, ignoring the little pang in your chest. "Not on this. I'm smart enough to see that there's more reward than risk to have Loki on the team. For example: he's not bad to look at."

Tony choked on his candy cane, coughing up a large piece. With wide eyes, he studied you in silence, trying to figure out if you had been joking. "Are you serious? We should bring you to Helen so you can get your head checked. There's a chance you might have a concussion from the last mission."

"You have eyes, you can see how regal he is despite not genuinely being born royal. And those cheekbones..." you trailed off, biting your lip at Loki's handsome features. Tony raised an eyebrow, slowly shaking his head. "Not that his perfect bone structure justifies all the people he's killed. I'm just very observant being an avenger and all."

"Uh-huh, yeah, yeah, yeah, sure." Tony mumbled, leaning back on his chair, his eyes narrowing after your confession. "Ms. Natalia Romanoff didn't get the chance to tell me what happened between you and old Capsicle."

Rolling your eyes, you spun around in your chair, facing away from the nosy billionaire. "There's not that much to tell. We talked, we liked each other, then the sun came up and reality set in as the form of Sharon Carter. It didn't take long for him to ditch me to go for Peggy's niece. Anyways, been there, done that. People change."

"You're not the same girl I met." Tony stated. "On that note, Rogers' old brain is still defrosting and he's getting older so I don't think he knows how stupid he is...yet."

"And I'm not going to wait for him to find out." you muttered, a loud sound coming from the big yard. Looking through the garage window, you saw the blinding light before two figures in different colored capes appeared, the blinding light ruining the fresh-cut grass. Beaming at Tony, you got up. "Want to plan a party with me?"

"You say that like I'd have the ability to say no. Tonight?" Tony replied, grinning at thought of loud electronic dance music and booze.

Getting up, the stilettos clicked on the floor, your perfect pedicure peeking through the hole. Smiling, you walked towards the door. "Well, we are in the presence of two Gods. I think it's only fair we celebrate like it."

"I'm putting Party in the USA on the track-list!"

Rushing to the lawn where the rest of the team gathered, your mood was lightened by the sight of the golden haired retriever in disguised as a jacked God. Ignoring the others, you threw yourself at Thor, the God of Thunder catching you, arms tightening around your body. You let out a breathless laugh, momentarily forgetting your idiotic plan to avoid Steve. "Thor!"

Thor guffawed, lifting you off the ground, shouting your name in glee before letting you breathe again. "My favorite avenger! Miss me?"

"Duh." you responded, glancing at Loki, who had magically changed into an all-black suit, his shoulder length raven-colored hair slicked back. His eyes narrowed slightly at the team who had defeated him. He looked even better in person. "So, that's Loki."

Natasha spoke up before either Asgardian could. She stepped closer, observing him with you. "Not sure. He isn't as smug as before—"

"And he's missing those horrendous reindeer horns he was wearing." Clint chimed in, crossing his arms. His hate for Loki—which had increased when he found out the man who once controlled him was coming to the team—was almost as deep as Steve's. "He looks like a witch in that black suit."

Thor snickered, releasing Loki from the handcuffs that held him. "As you all know, my adopted brother's punishment from Father is to help Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Loki understands all the rules, and he will so follow them accordingly. Isn't that right, brother?"

Loki rolled his eyes, sighing before reluctantly nodding. "Yes, I will."

"Let me make this clear, Loki." Steve stepped up, Sharon right behind him, face composed. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at the couple. "If you break one rule, no matter how small, you will be sent back to Asgard and face Odin's alternate punishment. Just so you're clear, we won't hesitate to send you back."

The God of Mischief smirked, feeling smug knowing he could push the super soldier's buttons. "Of course, Captain. I wouldn't dream of breaking the rules enforced."

Everyone could sense the sarcasm and mockery in his voice, all of them tensing. Thor sighed, clapping his brother on the back, the force making Loki take a steps forward. "Come on, brother. I'll show you your quarters before you get punched by Lady Natasha."

Without waiting for Loki to answer, Thor practically pulled Loki's arm off, pulling him towards the building, crossing the ruined lawn that Tony would bitch about later. Everyone followed them, staying a few feet back, wary of the new team member. You noticed Steve stealing glances at you, quickly moving away from Sharon's side and made his way to you.

Without being too obvious, you squeezed your way between Bruce and Natasha, snaking your arms between there's, hoping it would give Steve the impression not to talk to you. Ever. Natasha threw you a sympathetic smile, squeezing your wrist while Bruce raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.

Thor continued talking about the new compound, leading his brother to the entrance while pointing out installments that would've seemed impressive to a simple "midgardian."

He might've unconsciously murdered people but he kinda thicc.

At that exact moment, Loki turned around, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours. His smirk grew, glancing between you and Steve before turning back. It had been so quick that you weren't sure it even happened. The group scattered as soon as they stepped a foot inside; Bruce heading to the lab, Steve following him while Sharon split and headed up to Medbay, Natasha hitting the gym with Clint, leaving you alone with Thor and Loki.

Unfortunately, Thor's room had been across yours, the empty room next to yours becoming Loki's so both a spy and a god could keep an eye on the trickster. Both Tony and Steve had fought on that, Steve concerned about your safety while Tony argued back, telling him you could keep yourself safe. If not, Thor was there. That had angered you; Steve didn't think you were capable of fighting off Loki if it came to it, and that made you roll your eyes at him, exiting the room.

"...and this will be your quarters. Decorate it any way you want, just no magic." Thor continued, reaching the area of your rooms. It was a big arc, the area looking like a semi-circle with three doors spaced evenly out. "My chambers is across Lady Y/N's, so we won't have any problems. She's a smart one, brother. Anything else to add, Sunshine?"

You ignored the nickname, eyes narrowing at the black-suited man. "There's a party tonight 'celebrating' the addition to the team. It starts at 8 so don't be late or else Tony will have your head. Also, if you wake me up before seven in the morning, watch your back 'cause I hold grudges."

Giving Thor a smile, you head to your room, closing the door with a sigh. On the other side, you heard Loki chuckle once. "I like her."

"She's serious. She almost ripped my heart out the one time I accidentally woke her from her slumber." Thor added, the clap on his brother's back loud. "Get ready for the party, Loki."

Loki had been forced in his room by his brother, the door closing after him. He listened carefully, hearing you plop on your bed. He bit back a smirk, a plan unfolding in his brain. With a swift gesture of a finger, the room had been decorated, the hideous white theme changing into an exact copy of Loki's bedroom in Asgard.

The day went by fast as you wasted it away planning the party with Tony, who had, in no way, helped. You had ran off to your room once the people Tony had hired came, setting up everything in the main room. As you walked to the three-bedroom wing, you saw Steve rocking back and forth in front of your door, his hands in his pocket while Thor gushed about his flying hammer.

Relief washed over his face as soon as he spotted you, and you almost turned around, wishing you had gone to Natasha's room to get ready.

Steve called out your name, abruptly ending his conversation with Thor. As you walked closer, you could see the concern etched on his face. "Hey, are you okay?"

Thor watched your reaction, your face fighting the urge to make a face at America's sweetheart. Maneuvering your body, you slid between the two men to get to your room. "I'm fun-fucking-tastic. Thor, remind Loki about the party. I didn't spend the whole day with Tony for Loki to miss his own party."

"I'll be there, darling." Loki chimed in, his head poking out of his bedroom. Everyone turned to look at him, seeing the not-so-subtle wink he gave you.

Ignoring Steve's clenched fists, you moved past them, entering your room. Before closing the door, you said, "Tony requests the presence of all three of you, by the way. There's no way you're getting out of this. See you at 8!"

With a sighed of relief, you closed the door in Steve's face, the loud slam cutting off whatever he was about to interject. He could talk to Sharon about whatever shit he was dealing with, the girl he chose. You were no longer someone he could vent to after the shit he pulled, leading you on before leaving for Sharon Carter. It was then that you came to the decision to not love so easily.

Getting ready for the party took longer than you thought it would, the hot shower burning your skin to the point your skin started to redden. Your mind wandered to Loki, curios about the wink. Maybe it was his way of messing with people, a loophole that had not been included in the agreement. Realizing how inappropriate it was to think about the God while showering, you quickly turned the water off and stepped out.

Knowing Natasha, she's be disappointed if you didn't dress up like your inner slut, the one that got fucked up in Tokyo, and the petty hoe who would do everything to make Steve Rogers regret his decision. Well, you weren't going to let your sestra down.

The sultry, tight red dress was almost too short to be considered decent. With it's low cropped top, your tits we're begging for attention, the bra non-existent. Your new motto: protect the city, free the titties. The matching red stilettos would've been a pain if you hadn't started wearing them so early in your life. You let your hair down, running hand through it before slapping some natural makeup on your face, trying not to look desperate for attention.

It was around 8:15 when you finally finished, already exhausted by the amount of work you had to put on for others, but mostly for yourself. Either Tony or Natasha would come barreling through your door if you were going to be any later. Rushing, you took a quick look in the mirror before opening your door, nearly bumping into the God of Mischief.

He was dressed in a black buttoned-downed dress shirt with matching dress pants. Like before, his hair was slicked back, the shoulder length, raven hair looking silky and sexy. You both eye each other, eyes appreciating the sight in front of them. It wasn't until you finally met his eyes that he cleared his throat, a smug smile covering half his face.

"Would you mind accompanying me to the party, Lady Y/N? My brother is an idiot and cannot give a proper tour with his minuscule organ that he calls a brain. As of that, I do not know where this celebration is held." Loki explained, holding out his arm, waiting for you to take it. He raised an eyebrow while you hesitated. "If not, I could just follow you and everyone would assume I'm planning to have your head."

"Jesus Christ, you and Thor are so fucking dramatic." you grumbled, taking Loki's arm, your arm snaking around his. "Must run in the family, huh?"

"I'm adopted."

"I don't care."

Loki darkly chuckled, feeling your warm body against his, letting himself grow closer, enough that he could feel more of you but not enough that you would've noticed. "I sincerely hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you look rather ravishing, darling."

"Have you ever thought of cutting your hair?" you replied, loving the way Loki's smug expression wavered—probably expecting a compliment—before composing himself. "You'd look less like Johnny Depp from Pirates of the Caribbean."

"I don't understand." Loki said, leading you towards the elevator. For someone who claimed they didn't know where they were headed, he had the sense of knowing where everything was.

You waved the pop culture reference away, pushing the elevator button. "You wouldn't. Is Thor already at the party?"

"I'm quite positive."

The rest of the walk to the main room was quiet, neither of you making small talk as you led him. More like, he led you. You were suspicious he had stayed back and faked not knowing the compound in order to mess with you. But you waved that thought away, focus on getting distracting yourself from Steve.

You could hear the party before seeing it, the big room had been half full, not too much, not too little, yet you had been surprised considering how extra Tony could be. Letting go of Loki's arm, you walked to the bar where Natasha was sipping a glass of whiskey, ignoring the rest of the party. She pulled out a bottle of gin as you arrived, raising an eyebrow at your accompanied date.

"Before you say anything, he didn't know where the party was so he asked me to guide him. Nicely if I might add." you said, pushing back the bottle, settling on a bottle of water instead.

Natasha smirked, watching Loki interact with his brother, a frown deepening on his face. "He knows where everything is, Thor gave him the whole tour while you were with Tony. Can't believe you took the bait."

"Ugh." you grumbled, wishing you could forget about tomorrow and drown your problems in alcohol but the last hangover nearly killed you.

"Stevie doesn't look to happy with you showing up with Loki." Natasha noticed, the smirk widening as she watched Steve's glare grew more lethal as Loki's grin got bigger. "This is so much better than America's Next Top Models fails. Do you wanna bet that one of them will punch the other before the party is over?"

"Daddy, chill." you mimicked, turning to see how enraged old Capsicle is. But with the blonde besides him, looking up him in both wonder and worry, he had no right to be angry at Loki for attending a party that had been thrown for him, despite the many people he murdered—while being controlled. "He can't seriously still be sour about Loki joining."

The redhead giggled, a little drunk from the amount of alcohol she already consumed. "I don't think that's what he's so broody about, not anymore at least. He was smiling until he saw you on Loki's arm."

"Ain't my fault he chose Peggy's niece over me, meaning he doesn't get to be jealous whether Loki is my date or a walker for these killer stilettos." you muttered, secretly loving and hating the jealousy that oozed out of Steve Rogers. Even his blonde date had noticed. "Look at these heels, aren't they gorgeous?"

"Almost as gorgeous as you." Natasha replied, winking just before she drowned the rest of her drink. She winced a little at the taste.

"How many of those have you had?" you wondered, eyeing the spy. After the worst hangover of both your lives, Natasha had made you swear to never let her get that drunk again. Although with the rate she was going, you feared you had been too late.

She shrugged, taking your bottle of water. "Four. Oh, look, here comes Steve."

Before you could ditch, Steve leaned against the counter, his blue buttoned down shirt matching his blue eyes. Natasha not-so-subtly walked to the other side of the bar, motioning for Bruce to keep her company, although knowing her, she'd listen to every word.

"Rogers," you greeted coldly, looking everywhere but him. He tensed at your cold greeting, the frown looking permanently pressed on his face. "Enjoying the party?"

"Yeah."

Lie.

"Good."

You sat there for a good two minutes before he cleared his throat, shifting his weight nervously from one foot onto the other. Steve coughed in his fist. "So...living near Loki isn't too much trouble, is it? He causing any trouble, yet?"

"Sweet as an angel." you replied sarcastically, wishing you were anywhere but here. Loki caught your eye, raising a hand to wave and the group that had been brave enough to be near him, gasped in shock, the noises audible across the room. Their reactions made you chuckle.

Steve cleared his throat, this time louder. "Would you like to dance?"

"Ask your girlfriend." you fired back, satisfied by the hurt on his face. After the stunt he pulled, leading you on only to stomp of your heart, you wanted to be selfish and make him suffer just a little bit. Thankful, Loki came to your rescue.

Ignoring Steve, he held out his arm once again, a smile playing on his lips as he took in the tense situation between you and Steve. But before he could utter a single word, Sharon decided it was the perfect time to come looking for Steve. She assessed the situation, awkwardly noting Loki's presence.

"Er, hello." Sharon said, standing in false bravery. She wouldn't admit it, but she was afraid of the God of Mischief.

Loki gave her a curt nod and held out a hand to you instead, easily fitting yours in his. He murmured your name, softly kissing your knuckles. "Would you like to dance? This is the first song that came on that has not made me want to tear my ears off."

"Why, yes, I would." you agreed with a grin, moving your body close to Loki as you reached the unofficial dance floor, everyone's eyes on the both of you, with shock and slight fear. You would've cackled at their reactions—and it looked like Loki wanted to, too—if you hadn't been raised with manners. "Thank you."

Loki raised an eyebrow, surprised by the words. "For what, if I may ask?"

"Saving me back there. I don't need that kind of drama in my life. Not anymore." you explained, drinking in the warmth of his arm wrapping around your waist as you both slowly swayed to the slow song.

The raven-haired God smiled—not the smug smirk he wore, but a genuine one that Thor hadn't seen his brother wear for a few years now. "My pleasure. A lady like you deserves someone who'll give her his undivided attention. Any suitor would be lucky to have a tenth of your attention."

A coping mechanism: you rolled your eyes but you couldn't help the small smile that forced itself on you lips. You bit it back, hoping no one had noticed.

Loki had. And he meant every word he said.

By the end of the night, you found yourself naked, against the wall and legs wrapped around Loki's waist. Lips crashed against one another, soft kisses trailing down necks, leaving little love marks that would surely be dark. But at the moment, you didn't care. Not when Loki whispered sweet nothings in your ear as he took you from behind, above, underneath, and even on the side. You had both been teasing each other at the party and now you had given in, no matter the consequences.

—

Annoyed Steve had missed the date he had asked you on, you walked up to his room, heels clicking. You had waited for him for over two hours, texted him and getting no replies, leaving the restaurant with the humiliation of being stood up.

But as you neared his door, you heard crying. But it wasn't Steve. Peeking inside, you saw Sharon. Pretty, talented Sharon. Her eyes were red, tears steaming down her cheeks while Steve hugged her shoulders, resting his chin on her head as he comforted her. Jealousy and hurt knocked the breath out of you.

You waited.

And waited.

And it happened. Leaning in slowly, he kissed her. Softly, like he had kissed you. And she kissed him back, finding comfort in the kiss.

Heart breaking in two, you left, leaving the door open. The couple broke their kiss long enough to see you walk away through the slit of the door. Steve hung just head, feeling terrible. But Sharon had helped him as he had. This time, they hadn't stopped at kissing, forgetting the girl who had her heart broken by the man who claimed he would never hurt her.

Steve knew it was over between you two, but he could focus his attention on caring as much as he wanted to when Sharon kept kissing him. He did try to apologize only to learn you had went to visit Thor in Asgard, leaving him to feel sorry for himself and his decisions. Yet, he still found temporary comfort in Sharon's arms.

—

You woke to the warmth of Loki's arms around you. Opening your eyes, you found yourself tangled limbs with the God of Lies, your hair a mess, a hand over his chest and a leg over his waist. Your cheek rested on the crook of his neck, fitting perfectly as if he was made for you.

"Good morning." Loki whispered, stroking your hair with one hand, the other softly massaging your thigh. "Sleep well?"

Nuzzling into his neck, you snorted at the irony. "Don't know, considering we didn't do much sleeping."

Loki chuckled, pressing a soft kiss on your head. "Touché. It would only be fair of me to apologize for the love marks I left on your soft skin last night. Forgive me but I could not help myself."

Gasping, you jumped up, looking at the vanity mirror across your bed to find your collarbone, neck, and the top of your breast covered in Loki's hickeys. He looked rather proud of himself than sorry. "Loki!"

"Please note my apologies are genuine when they are directed towards you. Although, I have to admit, I'm quite proud of myself. It's my best art." Loki announced, bringing himself up on his elbows, eyes ravaging your naked flesh, littered with his marks.

Noticing the difference between your bodies, you quickly turned around to see the reflections had been right; Loki's body remained unmarked. "I swear to god I left hickeys and bite marks all over you last night."

"You tried but got rather mad when my skin healed itself." Loki explained, pulling you back in his warm arms. The soft gesture surprised you, the whole situation coming into light. You had slept with Thor's murderous brother. Loki read your thoughts. "Don't be like that, love. What what I can remember, you enjoyed yourself last night quite immensely. If it will make you feel better, I can show all the love bites you made the night before."

Thankful you hadn't drank anything last night, you had been so happy to not wake up with a hangover and Loki. Turning to face him, you raise an eyebrow. "What?"

With a smirk, his chest gleamed green for a second before it uncovered layers and layers of hickeys, and reddening bite marks. It was identical to yours. You gasped in shocked while Loki stared at you in amusement, his arms tightening. "You did a little bit of damage. I'm proud."

"Holy shit—" you were cut off by Thor and Steve bursting into your room, the sudden motion making you cover up your naked chest with a shriek. The two men's jaws dropped as they took in the scene, Loki's bare chest covered with the evidence from last night, his arms wrapped around you while you stared at them with wide eyes. "Knock, goddamnit!"

Both of them stood in silence, their brains not processing what was in front of them. Steve's eyes had mirrored yours from when you caught him kissing Sharon, eyes watering, you could see his heart breaking just by making eye contact. But at that moment, you couldn't find yourself to care, not with Loki's arms around you.

"What—" Thor began.

Loki smirked, kissing your bare shoulder. "Hello, brother."

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#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #loki #loki x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x sharon carter #marvel #captain america #angst #jealousy #chris evans x reader

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chaninfused · 4 years ago

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Danse Macabre | Lee Minho

◤“One must always polish a heart made of stone. Until one’s fingers hurt, and no more polishing cleavers remain usable. Until one grows tired of the weight of a stone heart.”

In an attempt to win his fiancée’s heart, a prince journeys across the desert, where lifelong secrets come unraveled and nothing is quite what it seems.

◤Disclaimers: Female reader insert. This story is inspired by Arabian mythology. Descriptive images of violence, killing, and blood are included, please be careful. This is fantasy, with a fair mix of fluff and angst. All places and events are fictional and do not reference real life nations. Find a glossary with all the terms used here. Make sure to read this blurb before proceeding to avoid heavy confusion. Also, view the map and the tale of the lost prince of Tajilmalek to gain a better understanding of this universe (optional, but strongly suggested!).

◤Word count: 26.6K

◤Note: This idea is a 100% mine and any case of similarity with someone else’s is purely coincidental. Events are pure fiction. Please do not take my content without my consent. masterlist.

◤Dedicated to my friends and readers. Thank you for bearing with me, I love you all. Happy reading!

"Big day tomorrow, eh?"

Minho looked up from the papers strewn over his desk to find his cousin leaning casually on the embellished wall, an unmistakable gleam of mischief bright in his foxlike eyes. He ignored the flutter erupting in his heart, it seemed to make an appearance whenever his wedding was mentioned, and smiled, "Indeed."

"Don't you find it strange?" Jeongin picked himself off the wall and sauntered toward the desk of dark wood when Minho frowned, "What?"

"Jisung was telling me about this earlier," the younger royal started, "Think of it; all Tallilmalekan princesses married to foreign princes bear no children. It's always a second wife or a concubine."

"Where is this conversation heading?" distaste distorted Minho's features. The nobleman's son, Jisung, had a mouth for spreading rumors and speculations. He wasn't sure why Jeongin continued to sit in his presence.

The latter slumped uncharacteristically on one of the desk's adjacent seats, crossing one leg over the other. "Possible conspiracy?" he shrugged. "It's not as though you don't find the family's stiff behavior odd. Apparently, they've always been like that. Cold, stone-faced, and haughty."

Minho rolled his eyes, "And?"

"And," Jeongin's lips stretched into a knowing smile, "there are rumors.

"I mean, how would you explain the reoccurring cases of princesses unable to conceive, or the peculiar, nonchalant behavior of Tallilmalekan royals? Y/n is not the first one to not smile upon her betrothed."

"What are you implying, Jeongin?" the crown prince sighed, having grown tired of the discussion already. His weariness only seemed to amuse his cousin, who lowered his voice and leaned forward as if he had a secret to whisper. "Well, people say that there is only one reasonable explanation."

Perhaps to add suspense, Jeongin paused, making Minho's brow arch questioningly. "Which is?"

"Jinn."

Silence draped over the two like a velvet curtain, heavy, as the word settled into the air. Demons. Jeongin — or Jisung — was accusing you and your family of dealing with demons.

A loud, ebullient laugh had to escape Minho's lips.

"This isn't funny!" Jeongin exclaimed between held back giggles. "Don't come crying to me when your wife turns out to be a Sahira of some sort!"

"I'd be damned then!" Minho cleared his throat after his laughter died out, shaking his head. You were reserved, some would say too reserved, but Jisung was going overboard by bringing Jinn into the picture. "I should ban Han Jisung from entering the palace, right?"

"Maybe." Jeongin scrunched his nose then stood up, regarding the uninteresting mounds of work before his cousin. He was once more reminded to thank the Aliha he wasn't born an heir to the throne.

"Well, I will be leaving you to your work." He clasped his hands and a brotherly smile found home on his lips, "And let me be the first to congratulate you, cousin. I hope this marriage brings you happiness. May the Aliha grant you their blessings."

Minho grinned, giddiness twinkling in his eyes, "Shukran. Will we see you with a ceremony of your own one day?"

"Hopefully not anytime soon," Jeongin joked before bowing his head lightly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Minho gave him an acknowledging nod but before Jeongin could turn and leave the study, the first scream shook the walls of the palace.

“What was that?” Jeongin’s eyes widened as a hand instinctively latched onto the hilt of his saif. Minho sprung from his seat, alarm wrinkling his forehead. “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it isn’t good.”

The two royals rushed out of the study, finding several guards running across the corridor and shouting orders to each other. Joining them, Minho asked above the ruckus, “What is happening?”

“Unsure, your highness, but the scream of a monster was heard coming from the Amira’s chamber,” a guard responded, and the prince’s heart dropped. Your rooms. Whatever made that sound, it didn’t promise well.

Rounding a corner, Minho finally spotted the group of guards assigned to your chamber clustered together as one of them knocked on the door repeatedly. He wanted to claw his flesh out. If a beast of some sort had managed to slip into your room, you’d be long dead with these foolish guards waiting for permission to enter. Perhaps it was time to re-examine the royal force.

Sheathing his saif, Minho stormed through the group of men, catching them off guard when he swung the door open and barged in. Manners were to be ignored in a life-threatening situation.

His grip was steady, courtesy of his many years of rigorous sword training, as his gaze fell upon the back of a monster twice his size, red skin glistening in the faint moonlight.

The guards grew silent.

The creature seemed to have the build of a man — two arms, two legs, and a head — but it was far from one. Tied hair as black as the eyes of a gazelle cascaded down its back and a pair of ivory horns poked through its head. That was all Minho could make out from the beast giving him its back.

It stood still, which should’ve raised suspicious brows, but the only thoughts on Minho’s mind were getting rid of the creature and finding you safe and sound.

So, without a second thought, he brought his sword down across the beast’s back, slicing it in half as the nauseating sound of metal cutting through wet flesh filled the room. It made no noise of pain as it toppled to the ground, facedown, splattering blood on its way. It was as if its soul were gone and all the Amir did was tear the body down.

You stood on the other side, unharmed, and Minho’s heart lurched in relief before he noticed the dagger between your bloodied fingers. Concern paired with obvious confusion creased his forehead as he sheathed his saif and stepped around the lifeless body toward you. He could hear the guards’ whispers rise in volume and Jeongin shushing them all. What in the name of the Aliha did I just kill and how did it get here?

“Y/n,” he began, voice taking on a softer tone. Your appearance showed no signs of struggle. The circlet holding the silk that fell over your hair was perfectly placed and you looked...indifferent as you regarded him wordlessly. The fact that a monster was lying on the floor of your bedchamber seemed to bother you none.

Minho was at a loss for words. “What...” his gaze gravitated back to the creature before moving to you. “What just happened?”

•؏•

If Minho arrived a moment earlier, he would’ve seen something that would change the course of your life forever. You were silently bursting with relief, for he couldn’t see the gaping hole where the Ifrit’s heart would’ve been before you clawed it out with a single hand.

The dagger in your grip was still pulsing.

You’d let your fiancé claim the kill for now.

“What just happened?” You could see, behind the mask Minho wore, all his bewilderment. How could you explain this without drawing the entire kingdom’s attention? A lie brewed at the tip of your tongue and you opened your mouth to speak, “It’s-”

You were interrupted by a deep wail that seemed to come from the ground beneath you. It shook the walls, making the guards look around in fear, and your eyes widened. There’s more.

You felt them before they crashed into the room and you dropped the dagger, grabbing Minho’s arm instead and running toward the door. “Watch out!”

The last syllable had barely left your lips when five smaller Afarit broke through the ground, sending debris everywhere and making the guards shout in panic. You forced your way through the chaos. The Afarit must not see you whatsoever. You might’ve been able to take down one on your own, but you weren’t very sure about a group of them.

Fortunately, Minho sensed the urgency in your steps and his legs moved faster, becoming the one to guide you through the grand corridors.

A blast of fire missed your head by a breath, and you turned around to find an Ifrit close behind. Seems like one caught up anyway.

The flaming creature of fire was in its natural form, which only you could see, and it was heading toward the two of you at an alarming speed. Minho tugged at your hand, confused as to why you stopped.

When he dared to glance at the other end of the corridor, color drained from his face like a wash of water on ink. It was burning, guards were fleeing, and smoke was slowly spreading through the air. Creatures he didn’t know the name of were pouncing upon the walls, leaving bright flames behind. They didn’t attack — they looked like they were looking for someone.

Which you knew. They were looking for you, or to be precise, they were looking for something you obtained.

Minho turned to face you, frantic, “What are you doing? What is happening— what are they?!”

You avoided his question, keeping your eyes on the Ifrit invisible to him. “Give me your saif.”

“What? This is not the time—”

“Give me your saif or we’ll both die.”

This time, he gave in and handed you his sword, unease dancing on his brows. A surge of energy left your fingertips when they came in contact with the leathered hilt, binding and fusing into the saif.

To Minho, you appeared to be glaring at air, but you were waiting for the moment the Ifrit shifted forms to attack. Not that you couldn’t strike it in its real form, but you’d rather not expose your identity so soon.

Just as you expected, the form of pure fire sprouted discernible legs and arms, a horned head, and snarling teeth. You didn’t miss the noise of panic that came from the prince. You almost felt bad for him. He was supposed to have a peaceful night before the next day’s festivities, not have his palace attacked by Afarit.

More guards streamed into the corridor as you raised the saif, just in time to slice it across the Ifrit’s middle. Normal weapons don’t kill them, but one infused with Jinn powers did.

The Ifrit crumpled to the ground with a spasm and a howl of agony, and the sword glowed red with an energy only you could see.

You turned to Minho, handing him his sword back and disregarding the way his eyes seemed close to popping out. “There you go. You can kill with it now.”

He only stared at you, and you were sure it’d be funny to know what went on his mind at that moment. “K-Kill?”

“Yes, well,” you inhaled, looking at the Afarit that noticed the commotion and were rushing to join the party, “We’ve attracted everyone’s attention. There’s no point in running now.”

Minho took three seconds to snap back into reality and fix his stance into something more appropriate for a skilled swordsman like himself. “Stay back!”

You did what you were told, not to raise suspicions, and stepped behind him. Bringing a hand to rest on your chest, you felt the large emerald hanging from a thin chain around your neck. The Zumurruda. This is what the Afarit were after, and you’d die fighting to keep it in your hands, in one piece.

You’d seen Minho in duels before, you trusted his skills. He was renown across the three kingdoms for one thing besides his looks, and it was his swordsmanship. Yet, you couldn’t help but worry. What if all went astray and you had to brandish claws and horns to get out alive?

The shriek of an Ifrit pulled you out of your thoughts. It seemed to be leading the other three toward the two of you, finally sensing the presence of the Zumurruda. The prince was quick to slash his sword through its chest, but this gave another Ifrit the chance to pounce on him. You couldn’t see Minho’s struggle to fight it off because you had a problem to deal with on your own.

While he was distracted, the remaining two Afarit decided to go for the Zumurruda. For you.

You looked around, hastily making sure no one was watching before stabbing a hand forward and watching your fingers grow into blackened, sharp claws. They plunged straight into the first Ifrit’s chest, now that you let your magic take over, and grasped its heart. You pulled it out unthinkingly, making blood vessels stretch and snap violently, spilling blood where the two of you stood. The beating heart in your clutch should’ve repulsed you, but you couldn’t quite feel anything in that state. Evil Jinn didn’t feel.

The other Ifrit didn’t seem to see what happened to its companion and lunged at you with a snarl. As one toppled to the ground lifelessly, you felt the heart transform into a small blade and prepared to bury it in the next Ifrit’s guts, ignoring the faint pulse of the makeshift weapon. You raised the dagger, claws gone, but didn’t get to use it when a flash of metal cut through the approaching monster and brought it down. Temporarily.

Jeongin’s familiar face came into your vision. Half of the young royal’s face was covered in blood, and his once fine attire had lost a sleeve to the flames. He asked with a heaving breath, “Are you okay?”

You eyed the Ifrit that began to stand back up, answering him dismissively, “I’m fine.”

You crouched, letting your dagger cut through the Ifrit’s throat and feeling a rush of energy flow from your fingers and through the blade into its body. Simply, to kill it.

“These things,” Jeongin paused to stare at the dead Afarit, “they don’t die. How did you—”

“What are they to begin with?” Minho’s question came through labored breaths and you turned your gaze in his direction, seeing him push a lifeless Ifrit off. You convinced yourself that the flutter of relief your heart made was for the Zumurruda.

The prince sheathed his bloodied sword, eyes trailing across the corridor littered with blood, Ifrit corpses, and injured soldiers before resting on your face, as if you were the answer to a riddle he’d longed to solve. His features trembled with distress. “What’s happening, y/n? Why are there monsters in the palace— What brought them here? What kind of sorcery is this?!”

A cohort of guards ran into the corridor, stopping short in sight of the monstrous creatures, dying fire, and blood. You could feel a different kind of tension permeate the air and you sighed, glancing at your fiancé then at his cousin. They deserve an explanation.

You gulped, lowering your voice just so the conversation remained between the three of you, “Do you believe in Jinn?”

•؏•

“So, let me get this straight,” Minho ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it as he tried to take in all what you’d explained. “Someone is sending these monsters called Afarit to obtain the emerald you have, and you can’t let them have it whatsoever. No one can know about this.”

“Na’am,” you nodded for the millionth time, bored. The three of you were now at the library. Jeongin had wiped the blood off his face with a wet cloth, but Minho didn’t seem to bother with the patch of red blooming on his shoulder as he bombarded you with questions.

You never thought this was going to be easy, but it was becoming tiresome.

“Then why...didn’t this attack happen in Tallilmalek? Why here?” Jeongin frowned and you suppressed a sigh. “Tallilmalek is protected by a spell that prevents supernatural creatures like Afarit or Jinn from sensing the Zumurruda’s presence. Now that it’s out of Tallilmalek, everyone can feel it, everyone wants it for themselves.”

“You know this,” the prince shook his head, “You know this... Why would you take the Zumurruda out of the kingdom? What’s so special about it that it attracts creatures from the fires of hell?”

“I didn’t know they would detect it so soon, I’ve arrived here two days ago. Besides, I need the Zumurruda with me,” you stated, dreading the following question.

A pause.

“Why?”

You fell silent. Why? To find the Sahira’s Heart and free myself from the Jinni in me. To break the damned curse that has been ruining my family’s life for the last century. “I need it to...” but you couldn’t tell the truth yet, could you? “I need to return it to where it really belongs. The Zumurruda is a gemstone of great magic. It can’t fall in the hands of bandits or Jinn because it will grant them a power they shouldn’t have. This is my only chance.”

Half the truth will do for now.

Minho slumped on a seat with an exasperated sigh. “But it was safe in Tallilmalek!”

“Safe from Sahara and Jinn but not from humans! What do you think people would do with a gemstone of unimaginable power?” You snapped and Jeongin’s eyes widened. He looked at Minho then at you and felt as though he shouldn’t be witnessing this argument.

“Does Tallilmalek know?”

“No! This is why I don’t have much time to return it.”

“And when were you planning to do this?”

“I don’t know, tomorrow, perhaps?”

“What? You can’t do that!”

“What do you suggest then? Stay here and let more monsters have their go—”

“Tomorrow’s our wedding day!”

Minho’s voice rang through the air, bouncing off the walls to slam into your face and make you inhale sharply. The wedding.

You didn’t forget, but it was the perfect chance for you to sneak out and find the Sahira’s Heart. An arranged marriage ceremony wasn’t going to stand in your way.

Minho had stood now, glaring before he realized what he’d done. His eyes widened and waters of panic rippled in them. “Asif, I didn’t mean to—”

You shook your head. An argument was the last thing you needed in your brittle, dry relationship and you turned around to exit the library, leaving a troubled prince behind.

Perhaps you were being selfish, but there was no place for giving in, not when you’d gotten this close to fixing everything. Fiancé or not, Minho could do nothing to stop you.

•؏•

“Your Highness!” a guard barged into the king’s study, where he was discussing the previous night’s strange attack with his only son. “I apologize, Your Highness, but we have an emergency!”

The king raised his gaze to look at the uneasy guard. “What is it?”

Minho regarded the man curiously. What could it be at this early hour, and on this day?

He’d woken up with memories of the argument he had with you at the library. The image of you walking out wordlessly seemed to taunt him whenever he let his thoughts stray, and a feeling of dread settled in his heart ever since.

The guard bowed then straightened his posture, inhaling deeply before letting the terrible news hail on the royals. “The Amira cannot be found in her bedchamber.”

If you are reading this, one of two things must’ve happened. I’ve died and a guard managed to return my journal home, or I’ve managed to do what the rest couldn’t and find the Sahira’s Heart.

I’m writing this on the first evening of our journey, and I suppose this is where it starts: reaching Al Mamsha.

The Zumurruda is pulling me toward it, a thin strip of land crossing Al Shaqq in Darilmalek. According to previous journals, it is guarded by Zarqa’a Al Yamama, an all-knowing woman with sharp sight and intuition. I am unsure about the encounter, but I’ve read al Amir Jinyoung’s report on crossing Al Mamsha which states that the traveler will be given a riddle to solve. Three wrong guesses and one will be forever trapped in the waters of Al Shaqq. All the past princes who chose to follow the Zumurruda took this path, so it seems that there is no other option. We’ll see how it plays out.

Al Amir Chan of Tallilmalek.

You closed the journal with a sigh. One of two things happened for sure. Prince Chan, who would’ve been a distant cousin, died in a thunderstorm while crossing Arrimal Azzarqa’a. Few crewmen survived the shipwreck, but his body was never found. He, too, sought the Sahira’s Heart.

Perhaps this was the fate of those who wished to the lift the curse and live freely. All the princes who dared to dream failed in the end, and the Zumurruda returned to Tallilmalek along with a story of their short journeys.

Perhaps it was a threat. A warning to force your parents, siblings, and all who came before them into accepting a life where love only brought misery. A curse that did nothing but make them fear what their sentiments could do.

You were raised to suppress the demon in you, a Jinni of pure evil, just like how the former royals did. For once upon a time, the most powerful Sahira known to the Alliance cursed your family with demon kids who murdered their beloved ones in cold blood.

Mages from across the land tried to break the curse, but none succeeded.

The only solution was to not have loved ones. One must not love, smile, or allow the tiniest affection to seep into their heart. Mother, father, sister, brother, husband, wife, friend — it didn’t matter. One must always polish a heart made of stone.

Until one’s fingers hurt, and no more polishing cleavers remain useable. Until one grows tired of the weight of a stone heart.

The pounding of hooves caught your attention and you looked in the direction of the noise, spotting a royal regiment cutting through the town. Leading them, you were quick to note, was the crown prince, Minho, your unfortunate fiancé.

Right, they would’ve noticed your disappearance by now.

Slipping out of the palace was easy, considering that the walls weren’t enchanted to repel Jinni powers like those back in Tallilmalek. You were gone by sunrise.

You felt the whisper of the Zumurruda, a foreign urge to travel east, and pulled your hood lower. The sooner you left the crown city, the sooner you’ll be able to use your powers freely.

As you made your way through the crowded streets of the city, you heard a shout coming from the soldiers, an order to put the city on lockdown. No one leaves. No one enters.

They’re taking the search seriously, you thought with a grimace. That would make things harder. You didn’t blame them, however. Relations between the kingdoms of the Arshilmalek Alliance had become shaky in the past years. A lost princess was a reason valid enough for Tallilmalek to wage war. A younger kingdom like Darilmalek would not survive.

You could almost sympathize with Minho. He seemed to truly care about the engagement, had always seemed to, yet you couldn’t show the smallest regard. For his safety, more than anything else.

He was another reason you wanted to break the curse.

Your steps quickened, hoping to reach the city’s borders before the guards did, but also trying to raise no suspicions. For a fleeting moment, you considered using your powers, but that thought was quickly thrown out of the window. There were too many witnesses. The last thing you’d want is to get accused of practicing forbidden magic and recreating the tale of the Lost Prince.

You could see the barren sahra’a ahead, just a few houses far, and hope blossomed in your heart. There it is, just an arm’s length away.

Then a shout accompanied by the terrible sound of hooves pounding the ground filled your ears and people began to clear the road in a panicked rush. You found yourself roughly shoved and uncomfortably squeezed between the people who moved to make way for the group of guards on horseback. You could barely move through them, and just like that, your chance slipped away right in front of you.

They’d reached the borders.

You muttered a curse under your breath and made your way through the people rather aggressively, earning a few strange looks that didn’t concern you. When you neared the set of guards, who were immersed in discussion, you pretended to be a foreign traveler and wandered off to the other, emptier side of the border.

Your first few steps went unnoticed, but soon enough, you heard a familiar voice command, “Qif!”

Too familiar. You halted but refused to turn around. The odds were all against you, you came to conclude when Minho arrived at your side, pulling the reins of his horse.

“You are not allowed to leave the city,” he said in a tone you never heard him use before, one that seemed to say my word is law.

You didn’t move or respond, which prompted the prince to speak once more, “Show your face. State your name, tribe, and your business leaving the city at this time.”

You bit your lip, although it couldn’t be seen under the shade of your hood, and thought to yourself, why did I not work on my disguise earlier today?

You wanted to slap yourself for being so foolish. Perhaps you were too...excited.

No guards joined the two of you, and after a few beats of silence, you decided to run for it. You might not be able to outrun a trained warhorse, but that would force Minho away from the rest, giving you a better chance at reasoning with him.

So, you did. You picked up your skirts and ran as fast as you could, past a startled prince and into the endless sahra’a. You heard Minho shout behind you, followed by a neigh of a horse, and you knew they were following you.

Running on sand was hard, and you were sure you were going to trip at some point. Although your lungs burned with each breath, you kept pushing yourself forward. Perhaps you weren’t made for such physical activity, you thought.

It felt like forever until Minho caught up to you — you guessed you had your powers to thank for that. His saif glinted under the harsh sun, and you were lucky to stop a few inches from the edge of the blade aimed at your neck. A chilling warning fell on your ears. “One more step, and I’ll chop your head off.”

You inhaled, waiting for someone to follow and letting your heart relax before shaking your head with a breath of a chuckle. “Chop my head off, eh?”

You didn’t see the way Minho’s grip stiffened, but you didn’t need to. You knew he recognized your voice.

Stepping away from the blade, you raised a hand to push your hood back and meet his surprised gaze. “I’d like to see you try.”

•؏•

Minho knew he’d made a terrible mistake when you were nowhere to be found in the palace. He thought it was his fault, and reasonably, he led the search the king ordered.

Although he hated to admit it, maybe the wedding wasn’t at all important in comparison to your mission. If you could prioritize it over an event that had been in planning for months, he could do the same.

After all, all the prince wanted was to show you that he cared. Just another meager attempt to try and make you dislike him less.

So, it seemed to be a complete strike of luck when you pushed off your hood to hold his gaze firmly. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I— La, I wouldn’t—” Minho stammered, quickly retracting his blade and dismounting the horse. He came to stand before you, silent as his gaze roamed over your features. Truth to be said, the prince didn’t know what he’d do if any harm befell you. When the guard shared the dismaying news, his heart dropped once more.

You seemed to like giving him a scare.

It was a relief to find you safe and unscathed, but unease still nagged at his chest. With an exhale, he muttered, “Asif. Forgive me.”

Your expression didn’t change, and he didn’t know what to take it as so he continued, “I realize now that the Zumurruda must be of high importance, considering that you were ready to escape the city to return it.

“I-I suppose the wedding ceremony pales in comparison,” he concluded and considered rambling on had you not nodded with a quiet exhale, “I apologize, as well.”

Oh? His brows shot up.

“It was selfish of me to disregard everyone’s work for my personal endeavors. But I hope you know that I cannot wait any longer now that the attack happened.”

“Of course—”

The prince was interrupted by a shout of his name, coming from an approaching figure behind you. “Minho!”

Not a guard, he remarked, noting the informality. Only then did he notice how far the two of you were from the city. He could see it, but it was a fair distance away.

You were a fast runner, he mused.

“There you are!” Jeongin’s voice became more discernible as he neared. “Someone saw you running off after a traveler. You were taking long.”

The younger royal didn’t notice you, almost trampling you over when he pulled the reins of his horse. He didn’t seem to notice Minho’s glare either. “Some claim that they spotted the Amira somewhere along the center of the city— What’s with the glare?” he frowned in confusion and looked around, finally spotting you, arms crossed and brow raised. You could practically hear his thoughts as his eyes expanded. “Oh.”

“Oh!” he repeated, this time surer, and lowered his head in embarrassment, realizing what he’d almost done. “My deepest apologies, y/n. I didn’t see you there.”

You bit back a retort and moved your head in the merest nod, “All’s fine.”

“You have to be more careful,” Minho tutted and Jeongin chewed on his bottom lip sheepishly, “Na’am.” His gaze ricocheted between the two of you before lighting up, “I suppose I should tell the soldiers to stop the search, then?”

“La,” the prince raised a hand, making his cousin look at him strangely, and turned to face you. You rarely showed interest in anything. The Zumurruda was something new. Perhaps this was his chance to improve things between the two of you. By taking interest in what mattered to you and joining you on this journey, he might be able to step a little closer to your heart. Or so he thought.

He might’ve anticipated the wedding, but he wanted to help you return the Zumurruda to where it belonged. “Let me join you.”

“What?” the question came from you and Jeongin, although he was a little louder with it. Minho only gave you a small smile, “I want to help you deliver the Zumurruda, if you’d allow me.”

You were careful not to gape at him. What changed over a night? You couldn’t help but ask, mindlessly, “But…what about the wedding?”

“If you can put other things before it, then so can I. The Zumurruda is more important, no?” a part of Minho was bursting with happiness. This is the most the two of you have talked away from the eyes of the court, without unnecessary formalities and stiff words. What seemed like a nightmare in a suit of flame was turning to be a blessing in disguise.

You nodded slowly, “You’re right.” You’d be lying to say you didn’t like the sound of Minho’s request. The princes that took this journey before you had all traveled with scouts, you didn’t expect to have the smoothest adventure alone.

Minho’s heart seemed to hammer in his chest as you thought over his suggestion. It wasn’t a decision he made in the spur of the moment – it was rather something he’d been contemplating all morning. There was no guarantee you’d agree, and he wouldn’t object if that were your choice, but he prayed to the Aliha for the opposite response.

He hoped he didn’t look too giddy when you finally made up your mind, letting out a breath as if the decision were a task that had worn you out. “I suppose I would appreciate some company along the way.”

A genuine smile broke on the prince’s face, and he looked at his cousin, “You have to come with us as well.”

“What– why?” the younger male did a terrible job of hiding his astonishment, but that didn’t seem to affect Minho. “I’m sure we need as many people on this journey as possible. Besides, I can’t have you returning to the palace now that you know about this ordeal.

Jeongin sighed, with undertones of a groan, “So, I have no choice.”

“Somewhat.”

You watched the two, slightly amused, before clearing your throat, “It’s the three of us, then?”

“Yes,” Minho nodded firmly then clasped his hands, “Where are we heading?”

You guessed if a citizen of the crown city looked far enough, they’d spot the three of you gathered in the middle of the desert and think it was an oddity of the current times. Silly or not, you began explaining the details of your journey. The details you knew of, that is, excluding the parts about the Sahira’s Heart and the curse. “We will be following the Zumurruda.”

“The gemstone makes its bearer feel a pull toward its home. No one has managed to reach it yet, but some have been remarkably close,” you pulled out the Zumurruda from beneath your tunic, laying it on your open palm for them to see. “As of now, it’s telling me to travel east, toward Al Mamsha.”

“Then east we shall go,” Minho announced. “Do we have all we need?”

“Do you have money with you?” you remembered to grab a heavy pouch of coins before escaping the palace, you wouldn’t need more with your powers anyway. Now that you had two more people with you, the money might not be enough.

“We do,” the Amir glanced at Jeongin, as if to make sure. “But is that all?”

“It should be enough. It’s better to travel light and stay the night in villages along the way.”

Your answer didn’t seem to convince the two, and you added with an awkward cough, “Either way, we cannot return to the palace to bring tents and food without raising questions. No one can know about this.”

Even if Minho wanted to let his hesitancy take over, you were the one who knew the most about the journey, not him. If you’d left the palace with the merest belongings for the trip, he would trust to do the same.

A beat of silence allowed your words to sink in the sand. That’s when Minho realized the kind of adventure he was sauntering into. Unpredictable. Perilous. Secret. Something that would challenge the very skills he’d spent all his years honing. It would either make him or break him.

He was oddly excited.

“We should get going, then. Day is only too long.”

You didn’t respond — you didn’t have to. The hood now pulled over your head was enough to say, “follow me,” and Minho thought he’d imagined the ghost of a smile on your lips.

•؏•

You began seeing the shimmering blue of Al Shaqq when the sun became hazy and low. The trip was exhausting at best, in the blazing heat and the dry air, and you quickly sympathized with the many messengers and trade caravans cutting through these sands for a living. You were beyond relieved when the thin strip of land became visible.

Although, if you thought you were tired, you couldn’t imagine the tiredness Minho was going through. Before you began your trek, he offered you his horse to ride and he continued on foot from there. Sometimes, he’d switch places with Jeongin, never for too long, however, and never with you. You supposed it was only expected. He was a prince, after all, and what was a prince without shining manners?

That didn’t stop you from offering your place repeatedly.

The three of you stopped at a small village some hours prior to satisfy your hunger and buy any necessities for what’s left of the journey. You were grateful no one outside the crown city recognized royals without their grand escorts.

This allowed Minho and Jeongin to trade their rich silks for less distinctive and more appropriate attire, as well as an additional handful of coins and two camels in exchange for their fine breed stallions with the promise to return them.

No one asked when you loaded your small caravan with food and water and resumed trudging through the golden grains.

Along the way, you’d explained to the two Darilmalekan royals why you decided to go on this journey without your family knowing. The repetitive pattern of princes trying to find the Sahira’s Heart wasn’t a coincidence. Only princes seemed strong enough to handle such a task and your parents would never let you, a princess, dirty your delicate hands with such an atrocious feat.

You’d explored your Jinni powers enough to know you wouldn’t have to dirty your hands, at least not until they became clawed and monster-like. And in that case, it would be your assailant’s concern, not yours.

Al Mamsha was a curious strip of land, one cursed with many legends by heat-struck travelers. It stretched across a rip in the desert filled with seawater, as though it were a bridge to the mountainous province of Darilmalek. Not many villagers settled nearby, as there was no use to be made of seawater and a land haunted by myths.

Only few dared to cross Al Mamsha. Only those few knew what really inhabited that piece of land.

You were about to become one of them, but you knew what, or who, guarded Al Mamsha. And you dreaded your meeting.

“Is that it?” Jeongin squinted at the enormous body of water before you. It was almost intimidating. It didn’t look this big on the maps.

On the dune where you observed, you could see the sandy line called Al Mamsha. It was empty, to your surprise. Your answer came coarse with nervousness, “Yes.”

“Should we cross it?” Minho seemed dubious, almost afraid when he asked, and you gulped. You will cross it, just like Chan and the other princes did before you. “The Zumurruda is urging us forward.”

Yet none of you moved for some moments of quiet anxiousness. Al Shaqq looked unreal, and its infamous Al Mamsha only reminded you of the many wonders you were yet to see, the many giants you were insignificant in comparison to.

Glancing west, Minho exhaled and patted the neck of the camel that carried you, “We must continue.”

But even the animal’s steps seemed reluctant.

As the three of you approached Al Mamsha, you kept an eye out for something to appear and stop you from advancing on to the sandy road. There was nothing but a clear, lifeless path, and you continued forward.

The camels halted to a stop at the mouth of Al Mamsha, making you frown in confusion as you patted the animal, “Why did you stop?”

It didn’t answer you, but your answer came from beneath the sand.

You wouldn’t believe it if you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes. A woman emerged from the sand, fair and young, dressed in a fine white kaftan with a matching turban crowning her head. Perhaps what stunned you the most was the bright, striking blue of her eyes, a shade you’ve only seen in sketches of her. Her aura was eerie, and she was looking right at you.

When she spoke, her voice seemed to come from the depths of the earth. “You shall not pass.”

You weren’t afraid, but rather in mute awe. This was her. This was—

“Zarqa’a Al Yamama,” you breathed, ignoring the petrified stares Minho and Jeongin were giving you and making the woman shake her head solemnly. “That would be my great grandmother. I am Lia, the Guardian of Al Mamsha.”

Strange, that was not mentioned in the journals. You cleared your throat, pushing your thoughts back. “Pardon me, Sayeda Lia, but we need to move forward.”

She did not miss a beat. “You shall not pass.”

The prince then swallowed his shock and stepped forward, finding his best regal voice, “As the Crown Prince of Darilmalek, I ask of you to grant us passage.”

“You shall not pass.” Lia did not spare him a glance, her crystal blue eyes fixed on you.

You saw Minho’s hand reach for the hilt of his saif from your peripheral vision and you asked again with urgency, “Please. Is there anything we can give you in exchange for our clear passage?”

“I need not your mortal gifts.” Her voice boomed around you, despite being in the open, wide sahra’a.

At that, Minho grabbed his sword and you held your breath, waiting for those words to fall out of her dainty lips like in every journal.

Lia crossed her arms, and her eyes blazed like blue flames. “You shall only pass if you solve my riddle.”

There is it, you hoped your satisfaction didn’t take form on your face. “We will solve your riddle.”

Beyond what you thought was possible, her eyes glowed brighter, almost white in their brilliance. You had to squint and look away.

For a short while, there was silence, then her words came out grim and haunting, “Solve my riddle and you shall pass. Fail thrice and you shall perish.”

You held your breath, rummaging through all the riddles you’ve read or heard and kept for this critical moment.

“I can only be kept once I have been given. What am I?”

You haven’t heard that one before.

Inhaling stilly, you turned your head to look at Minho, meeting his worried gaze just as it fell on you. He rubbed the camel’s neck, making it sit for you to dismount.

Off the mammal’s back, you swallowed a lump of anxiousness and asked, “Any ideas?”

The prince shook his head and his cousin mimicked, finally dismounting to stand with the two of you. It seemed as though they were too afraid to speak.

Your gaze wandered to the sand beneath you as a whirlwind of thought took over your mind. Something that can only be kept if given…but that’s contradictive!

The paradox helped you rule out all material things, since things like coin cannot be kept after being given away. That left all things abstract — emotions, thoughts, bonds.

“Give…” you muttered then a guess sparked in your mind and you blurted, “Kindness?”

Lia frowned, and you could’ve sworn the ground trembled. “Incorrect.”

Foolish move, you scolded yourself mentally and avoided the concerned looks coming from the Darilmalekan royals. Think, y/n!

Something to be kept. Something to keep…keep your…keep my— your eyes widened when it struck you. It only makes sense!

“I think…I think I know the answer,” you whispered, and Minho questioned carefully, “What is it?”

Jeongin stepped closer and you made sure to keep your voice low. “One’s word.”

You knew you were right when realization lightened their expressions. An encouraging look from your fiancé made you step forward and speak, this time confidently. “The answer is one’s word. One can only keep their word once they’ve given it.”

When the blue-eyed woman remained silent, you waited for the ground to rumble and her to declare your second failure. Yet, nothing happened.

Lia nodded after several moments of silence, and you thought you imagined her subtle smile, “Very well. You have succeeded and therefor, you shall pass. But be warned, brave travelers, for the journey ahead is perilous, and the Isle of the Damned is no place for those of weak will.”

“Shukran.” You didn’t try to hide your relief, turning to mount your ride before she spoke again, “Your animals cannot move any farther into the Isle of the Damned. You are to travel on foot.”

You didn’t question her, recalling a statement you’ve read in a journal some months ago. The Sahira’s Heart left corruption in its wake, breathed chaos into its air, and spread malice in the land it rested in. Animals from the pure land will never venture near.

“Without them we travel, then,” you adjusted the clasp of your cloak as Minho shook his head, “We can’t leave them behind. We promised to return them.”

“Worry not, ya Amir, the animals will return on their own,” Lia informed. “Go on, travelers, before night awakens the beast resting in Al Shaqq.”

The beast resting in Al Shaqq. Many legends were told about the unnatural body of water, most known was the myth of the Falak, the great serpent that carries the world. It has been said that its child sleeps at the bottom of Al Shaqq. Any travelers crossing Al Mamsha at night would be its next live toy. Although, no travelers have dared to approach that land during the night yet.

You didn’t want to be the first.

A wordless exchange of glances darted between the three of you, and with a long exhale, you took your first step unto Al Mamsha.

•؏•

“This is absolutely preposterous!” the Tallilmalekan Crown Prince threw his arms in the air, frustrated. Changbin had been enjoying a Finjan of coffee when he overheard the news of your disappearance from a pair of oblivious guards, and it riled up the Jinni in him instantly.

Your brother stormed into the Darilmalekan King’s study, forcing the panicked advisors to leave when they noticed the frown etched on his handsome face. But before he could voice out his anger, a guard barged in, carrying news of Minho’s and Jeongin’s disappearance as well.

It made perfect sense in his mind. The had prince taken you and run away.

Changbin disliked your fiancé, but now, he seethed with aversion toward him.

“I am sure you know what this means for both kingdoms,” he said through gritted teeth. This marriage was your parents’ last hope at mending the deteriorating ties between Darilmalek and Tallilmalek. It seemed like Minho had other plans, however.

“If they are not found soon, I am afraid Darilmalek’s end would be two hundred years of independence.”

The king stood from his seat abruptly, recognizing the threat but being unable to acknowledge it. The fate of his people’s freedom relied on his meager words, and his hands were tied on the matter. The old king kept his tone firm and regal, “I trust my son, and I am sure no harm will befall the Amira with him. He will return, or we will find them.”

Changbin wanted to scoff but he settled with muttering spitefully before exiting the study. “Well, I don’t trust him.”

When he left, the king fell back on his chair, helpless. Oh, ya waladi, what have you done?

•؏•

They call it the Isle of the Damned, yet I believe it is unfair to the villagers settled between its mountains and dunes. We have crossed Al Mamsha and spared an hour of sunlight to find a place and raise camp for the night.

To my utter surprise, we found an unmarked village a little over an hour’s walk away. Its villagers offered to house us in their homes and serve us dinner. Such is the fine hospitality of the people of these sandy lands.

When the sun rises, we will be continuing east. I am unsure of the journey’s path after this step. No surviving journals clearly state where the Zumurruda leads after Al Mamsha.

Nevertheless, some speculate we are heading toward—

You quickly shut the journal when you heard a rustle from the other side of the partition. It was almost as though you were performing a play and Chan’s journal was the script. You crossed Al Mamsha safely and found a small village not too far away. Seeing that the three of you were travelers, the villagers welcomed you into their homes unhesitatingly. They sat you for a hearty feast then showed you to a place they’d prepared.

Their generosity wasn’t surprising. The three kingdoms maintained strict traditions in hospitality, no matter the guest’s origins or story. This was your first time experiencing it firsthand.

A partition was placed for your comfort between your bed and Minho’s and Jeongin’s beds. It was helpful when you wanted to read without them asking questions, but you could never be too carefree.

The rustling stopped, and you thought it simply was one of them shifting in bed before a faint sound caught your attention. “Y/n?”

You held your breath. Why is he not asleep?

For a couple of beats, you said nothing, thinking that if you remained silent, the prince would return to sleep and you to reading in the dark — one of the gifts you were born with. Perhaps it was guilt that made you finally whisper back, you owed him at least that. “Yes?”

“Oh…you’re still awake.” he was muttering, but you were sure you heard a hint of relief in his words. Hope. You couldn’t pinpoint the reason, but it made your heart clench uncomfortably.

There was silence again before he murmured, sounding almost defeated, “You should try to sleep.”

“You should, too,” you said after hesitating. “Who knows what awaits us tomorrow.”

Minho hummed then, and with a few rustles, he said nothing more. You assumed he’d fallen asleep.

A silent sigh left your lips and you looked at the journal between your hands. What am I doing?

This journey was one you’d wanted to take for a while. You’d barely begun, but unease was quickly creeping into your heart.

If this were a play and you were following a script, would it end with the same tragedy that befell Chan and the many princes before him? Were you only inching closer to your doom?

La. You forced the voice in your head silent and tucked the journal away. You were not going to fail because you had one thing these princes were too scared to use. You had a Jinni inside you, and you were not afraid to use your powers when needed.

This journey will not end up in failure.

Finally lying down, you let your eyelids drop, exhaustion taking over easily. But just when you were ready to surrender to sleep, another sound startled you awake. Not a whisper or a rustle of sheets, but the unmistakable unsheathing of a sword.

Hyunjin could feel it in his bones. He could smell it in the air, that sickeningly sweet scent of power. The Zumurruda was close.

He’d been alerted a few days ago when the Isle breathed with life once more. Someone had taken the Zumurruda out of Tallilmalek, again.

This time, he was getting his hands on it.

Finding the bearers of the gemstone wasn’t hard. They didn’t travel with an enormous escort like those ridiculous princes. Just that mere trio of them, with little baggage and a mysterious aura.

One of them caught his attention. A young lady whom his spies of Afarit reported to have a strange energy surrounding her. He’d assumed it was a spell of protection casted on her by a relative’s request, or that she was a magic meddler. Only now, as he stood in a room of sleeping people, did he realize what that restless energy was.

Jinn.

She was half Jinni, and her companions knew no better.

She carried the Zumurruda.

What a short, sad tale, he wanted to chuckle as he unsheathed his sword and prepared to strike her sleeping figure.

What he didn’t prepare for, however, was for her to spring up at the sound and shout, “Qif!”

This successfully awakened the rest and before Hyunjin could react, the edge of a saif was pressed under his chin.

“How did you get in here?”

A male’s voice, but it sounded nothing like a sleeping man’s. A terrible realization dawned on him. None of them were asleep.

Did she feel his presence like he felt hers? Was he walking right into a trap?

La, Hyunjin was far too powerful a Sahir to fall into mundane traps.

“You shouldn’t be asking me this question,” he answered and tossed his saif to the ground. There will be no need for it anymore.

In the dark, he could see her expression change as realization dawned on her too. A faint smirk drew itself on his lips when she whispered urgently, “Be careful. He’s a Sahir.”

“Be careful indeed,” he mused, “Spill a single droplet of my blood and your family shall be damned for eternity.”

“What brought you here?” even if he had understood the warning, the young man did not retract his sword.

Hyunjin could see things a regular human couldn’t see, and he could clearly make out his assailant’s features. Sharp yet dainty and undeniably handsome. He could pass as an Amir. Once upon a time, he would’ve been someone Hyunjin rivaled against.

The Sahir shrugged. “I’m here for the Zumurruda.”

A hush of silence befell the room and Hyunjin knew they knew.

When the young lady spoke, the red aura around her shook angrily. “We do not have what you seek.”

“Is that so?” he raised a brow. “That’s odd because I–”

“Kafa! You will leave or I’ll cut you down where you stand,” the young man holding the saif threatened. Hyunjin wanted to laugh. “And risk centuries of bad luck and misery on you and those who succeed you? You’re one brave young man.”

“We don’t have the Zumurruda,” the girl repeated, this time with more emphasis, “but we know where to find it.”

At this, the two other individuals in the room seemed taken aback. The saif even lowered a little bit.

Foolish humans, Hyunjin mocked inwardly. That was a lie and he knew it. “Oh, really?”

“Na’am.”

He would play along, that was more fun.

“Then take me to it.”

He saw how her pupils trembled. She felt something, he was sure. She knew that he spotted the lie, but she continued with it. Foolish, foolish human.

“You can join us.” Her proposal was met with a sound of protest from the back of the room, but it was not acknowledged. “Whatever your intentions are for seeking the Zumurruda, we can settle them when we find it.”

“But, y–”

Perhaps it was for his personal entertainment did Hyunjin agree. The young man’s almost-objection was a bonus. “I’ll join you.”

•؏•

“Dead? All six of them?!” The man glared at his subordinates angrily. A lord of thieves like him shouldn’t be facing such adversities, he believed, yet his good for nothing underlings couldn’t even retrieve a simple gemstone.

He let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes, “I shouldn’t be surprised. If one wants anything done around here, one must do it themselves.”

He reached for the lower compartment in his desk and pulled out a book as old as the world. A cloud of dust rose in the air when he placed it on the surface before him. “This one’s tough, huh?”

“Very much, sir–”

“What are you two imbeciles doing still standing here? Move!” his outburst made his two henchmen scurry out of the study, barely avoiding tripping over their own feet on their way.

He rolled his eyes after them for the nth time, wondering why he couldn’t find better minions. Right, these two idiots are the only ones who remained alive.

Flipping through the worn-out pages of the book, his eyes scanned the titles until he found what he needed. “There.”

His lips stretched into an ugly grin as he read over the lines of the summoning spell. “You might’ve been able to defeat the Afarit, but let’s see how well you can handle this one, bearer of the Zumurruda.”

•؏•

“Well, then, I’ll see the three of you by sunrise,” the strange Sahir remarked and before you could say anything, strong wind broke through your temporary home. You turned your face away from the harsh winds but when you looked back up, he was gone. As though he never stood there.

What...was that?

“What just happened?” you heard Jeongin whisper-exclaim and you reached up for the nearby mishkah, lighting it up and watching as its brilliance washed over the room.

You had no idea yourself.

“I don’t know.”

“Y/n— were you not in your right mind? How can you offer to let a stranger, and a dangerous one at that, accompany us?” Minho was baffled, to say the least. Didn’t you say this journey was extremely dangerous and secretive? When did you start letting strangers unto your plans?

The partition that stood in between hid the distressed look on your face. How would you explain it to them? That stranger had a bizarre aura, something was off with him. Too much power, something similar to the energy that radiates off your siblings and off you. Something not entirely human.

“He’s dangerous, Minho,” you resorted to saying, failing to realize how his name rolled off your tongue easily, almost naturally. “He knows we have the Zumurruda. Sharing it is the only solution that doesn’t include bloodshed or eternal damnation.”

“But you can’t trust him, can you? Can we?”

“That’s why we have you.”

Perhaps it was exhaustion that made you say something so…unguarded. For a fleeting moment, the real you peeked at the world. No Jinn to be concerned with, no curses, just what you really wished to say.

You knew you appeared to dislike the prince, it was a façade made to fool your Jinni half. You tried to ingrain that in your mind through your actions and speech, everything you did was planned and calculated to keep the monster at bay.

But some rare times, the closed off bit of your heart would speak. You didn’t trust the Sahir, but you trusted Minho. That would be enough.

When you received no response, you lay back down, clutching the Zumurruda as you murmured goodnight. You’d rather not hear an answer to that.

On the other side of the partition, Jeongin looked at his cousin with a raised brow. This is new.

If he knew no better, he’d assume the prince had forgotten how to speak. The saif in his hand hung limply at his side as he stared at the makeshift wall made of palm tree fronds. An unexplainable expression illuminated his features.

What did you mean? He didn’t want to believe what his mind told him. Why would he give himself such hope?

Sighing, he shook his head and dropped his sword on the side of the bed. It was too late in the night and his thoughts had been strained enough. “Goodnight, Jeongin.”

“Goodnight.” The younger royal continued to watch him, curious but also sympathetic. In a way, he didn’t understand the manner in which his cousin thought; why he kept trying to make you see him as someone other than an unlikable betrothed. But in another way, he understood completely.

Minho loved you, and it was something almost magical. No matter what you did, the feelings he’d garnered over the years only burned brighter. And although Jeongin complained about how hopeless your case was, he was almost sorry for the prince.

Hundreds were ready to dedicate their lives for him, yet the only life he cared about was one with you.

•؏•

The sun brought a new day with it despite your weary limbs’ complaints. You rose with an unusual sense of unease in your heart. You dreaded what this day held for you.

The Sahir was indeed there when the sun rose, looking as though he didn’t plan an ambush at the dead of night. He introduced himself as Hyunjin, and you ignored the uncanny familiarity of the name.

That morning, the Zumurruda’s pull directed you south, away from the mountains. It came as a surprise, considering that in Chan’s journal, he mentioned moving east. You don’t remember reading about the Zumurruda changing routes…

“Do we know where we’re heading?” you felt his presence before you heard his voice, dark, corrupt. It made all your senses perk up.

Hyunjin fell in step beside you, and you didn’t have to steal a glance at Minho to know that a scowl was beginning to form on his face. The three of you were walking side by side while the Sahir trailed a few steps behind. What made him join, you guessed, was to bother you.

The orb of light in the sky was lathering the golden grains of sand with formidable heat, and the blows of wind were doing very little to help any of you cool off. You were not in a state to be bothered.

“Shamal.” Your response should’ve showed that you didn’t want to talk, but it seemed that Hyunjin couldn’t take the hint. “Yes, but to where? We can’t just be traveling south blindly.”

“To a place, that’s for sure.” You let out an exasperated breath.

“Your vagueness is quite–”

“You should learn to understand people’s tones,” Minho cut him off, sounding uncharacteristically hostile, not unreasonably though.

“Ah, it’s the angry saif man,” a sickeningly sweet smile drew itself on Hyunjin’s lips. “I haven’t forgiven you yet for threatening to kill me.”

The Amir only glared in response and you began to regret the moment you offered to let the Sahir join you on this trek.

“It honestly baffles me. What is someone like you doing with them?” he reminded you of some ladies at court. Those who only yapped gossip and rumors. Maybe you should’ve let Minho kill him when he had the chance.

Your silence only prompted him to continue, enjoying the way his words made the energy around you crackle angrily. “Really, what need do you have of two common swordsmen? Are they guards of some sort? Or are you perhaps…” his gaze traveled between the three of you before a knowing smirk made an appearance, “Ah, I see now.”

At that point, you were sure he was purposely riling you up. Stopping short, you turned to glare at him and for a blink, his eyes glowed red. You thought you’d imagined the face of the Devil in his, a terrifying sneer and evil eyes.

Hallucinations, you pushed your worrying thoughts back. “I don’t appreciate you speaking that way– What in the…” you trailed away when a shadow fell over the four of you, blocking out sunlight completely. Even Hyunjin grew silent.

Daring to look up, you were met with the silhouette of an enormous bird, circling over you like a predator.

“Um...what is that?”

You were too scared to answer Jeongin’s question, you weren’t even sure you wanted to know the answer. “I-I don’t know but it doesn’t—”

The ginormous bird stopped circling the air, and with heart-stopping realization on your behalf, dived headfirst toward you. A shout was leaving your lips before you could process what was happening. “Run!”

A Rokh. You’ve read about the mystical bird in ancient books. It lived in the highest mountains, at the very peak, and summoning it required a forgotten and forbidden spell. Fear, for a reason other than the beast trying to have you for lunch, flooded your heart.

Someone was trying to stop you.

The squawk that rang at your ears was deafening, and you found yourself falling to your knees while pressing the palms of your hands against them in pain. A violent blow of sandy wind resulting from the Rokh swooping in was almost enough to push you off the ground. You would’ve lost all sense of the world had that unsettling feeling not made an appearance. The same warning that came from the depths of the earth before the Afarit attacked at the palace.

You stood with a start, wobbling a little as you tried to blink the sand out of your eyes. Something was coming.

The Rokh was back in the sky, putting you in the inconvenience of darkness. Alone. You tried to find the rest, tried to find Minho, but the sand obscuring your vision made it an impossible feat. Panic quickened your breaths. Where are they?

You thought you saw a figure approach you and you called hopefully, “Minho? Is that you?”

The howling wind responded instead. You tried to walk closer. “Jeongin?”

Then you began noticing something weird about the figure’s walk. It wasn’t a walk, you realized when you squinted at it. It was a hop. And at that, you noticed that no matter how close the figure got, only one half of its body was visible. One leg, one arm, half a head, and half a torso.

That was when you became convinced you were living a nightmare.

Before you could attempt to run away from the Nasnas, it pounced on you, sinking its single clawed hand through the layers of cloth and into your shoulder. The scream that left your lips wasn’t entirely yours, but of the other soul sharing your body. Feral, as it tore through the bonds you’ve trapped it with.

Pain had blanked your mind out, so you didn’t quite understand what you were doing when you reached for the monster’s only shoulder with a clawed hand. The Nasnas let out a terrible shriek when your claws sunk into its skin, making it lose hold of you and reel back. You didn’t stop there.

Power came in immense amounts when you let your Jinni half make an appearance, but so was the hunger for bloodshed. You pulled, dislodging the arm and tearing it from the body. The spray of blood that fell over you sizzled, but that was the least of your concerns. The limb turned itself into a sword in your grip and you spun to slash it through the agonized Nasnas. Its tortured screams came to a choked stop.

Your heart should’ve hurt you from the strength and frequency of its beats, but you were instead staring at the mutilated body of the monster that attacked you. Its pale skin was splattered with gruesome red, the same shade dirtying the precious yellow of the sand. A strange sign on its forehead caught your attention and you leaned closer to examine it before a shout came from the distance. “Y/n!”

Cold dread prickled your skin as you straightened up instantly, praying no one saw you kill the Nasnas.

You were quickly assured that no one saw you, simply because they were all being attacked too. The wind had settled, and you were able to find your companions each stuck in a throng of bloodthirsty Nasanees. The sight made the Jinni inside you feverish. More to kill.

La, this wasn’t you. You weren’t a cruel killer, the secret sword training sessions you’d have with your brother didn’t make you one. But it only made sense to curse a family with the most violent Jinn there was, no?

You spotted a few monsters hopping toward you and Minho not too far away, who was cutting through the beasts as he ran to you. This is going to be an ugly fight, you thought with a grimace when you noticed the bleeding scratch on Minho’s cheek. You forgot you were almost completely covered in blood, both yours and the Nasnas’.

Just don’t get too carried away, you reminded yourself, looking up to find the Rokh still flying above you. Or just get out of this alive.

The Nasanees reached you first, but you were ready this time. Fighting wasn’t something you did regularly beyond the quiet training court, but it was almost second nature when you let your powers take over.

Your saif stabbed through the first Nasnas’ middle and you pulled it sideways, cutting a clean line through. This seemed to be a distraction because the second monster decided to lunge at you while the former one toppled to the ground. The force of the impact drove you to the ground, making it a struggle to push the Nasnas off you. A struggle, but it was not impossible.

You managed to roll out of its grip, sparing no time to plunge your sword into its back to kill it. Standing back up, you expected another monster to attack, but the one that was reaching for you had the bloodied tip of a saif poking through its chest.

It crumpled to the ground when the sword was aggressively retracted to reveal Minho standing on the other side. The erratic rise and fall of his chest was very visible as his gaze trailed over the lifeless bodies sprawled between the two of you. A delirious grin stretched his lips when he looked back at you. “Where did you learn to fight so impeccably?”

“Changbin taught me.” that small smile was yours. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t miss the way he faltered for a moment at your question before answering, “I’m okay. Are you?”

It was an ironic question, considering the blood that tinted your skin and filled the air with that nauseating stench. “I’m good.” The wounds on your shoulder would heal in no time.

Your gaze moved to where you thought you saw Jeongin, skillfully countering all the attacks aimed at him. It seemed to be a Darilmalekan thing. “We should help him.”

Minho nodded and immediately rushed to where his cousin fought. You followed, gaze gravitating back to the Rokh in the sky. You had enough trouble on the ground, the threat up above was only adding to the tension.

Some Nasanees came in your way but taking them down was easy. You’d never found yourself in a fight until recently, and you realized how different it felt to fight alongside someone. There was a wordless, mutual understanding between you and Minho; protect each other’s backs, simply.

Maybe you liked the way it felt.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Hyunjin, standing with his hands clasped before him and eyes a hellish red. Any Nasnas that approached him would either drive its claws into its own guts, chew off its hand, or attack one of its kind. He was controlling them, manipulating them, and an angry thought crossed your mind. He could help the three of you, but he had chosen to stand aside and watch you get killed.

Because he knows we have the Zumurruda. What good does he gain from saving us?

You gripped your sword tighter, slashing it across a snarling monster. We’ll survive just to spite him, then.

“What are these creatures?” Jeongin asked with a shout when he spotted the two of you near. Your saif sliced through a Nasnas’s throat and you came to stand beside him, heaving a breath, “These are the kind of offspring you get when a Jinni and a human are the parents.”

“They keep coming!” Minho’s desperate exclamation made your stomach flip. They kept coming, indeed. No matter how many you killed, there was always more to surround you. You doubted any of you would be able to last long enough.

You can finish them all, a voice in your head suggested, wicked and sinister. Just let go. Let me in. Let your true self show.

La! You pushed the voice back, but it was of no use. You saw blood wherever you looked, pale corpses wherever you stepped, cries of aggression wherever you listened. Next to you, Jeongin’s left sleeve was torn away, exposing an ugly gash across his upper arm. Minho, a few monsters away, was suffering more than a single scratch. Your shoulder pulsed with a numbing ache.

Too much.

It was too much.

You could no longer keep track of the swings of your saif or the creatures falling lifeless at your feet. This ambush was bound to destroy you.

And perhaps what finally snapped the cord was the ear-splitting squawk coming from above. Daring to look up and finding the Rokh heading straight toward you, you lost all awareness of the world.

It felt as though something was tearing through your guts, burning, boiling. Your voice was no longer yours as a wrangled scream left your lips. It might’ve been pain from the Nasanees that pounced on your doubled over body or what was rising within you, but when you opened your eyes again, you only saw red.

Standing up, you felt almost weightless. The monsters that came in your way were like sticks to snap with your clawed hands. Your sword flashed between the masses until you were standing alone. They’d all been killed or had escaped; you didn’t care. Your attention was fixed on the Rokh.

To any onlooker, you supposed you looked deranged, standing in the way of the giant bird. But maybe that mattered little compared to your appearance. Red, blazing eyes, dark, horrifying horns, and bloodied, blackened fists. You were still human, but not quite.

In the background, someone called your name. The voice made your head pound with pain, but you ignored it, raising your saif and flinging it right at the approaching Rokh. The action took no effort, but the sword swiveled through the air with unhuman force, landing in the narrow joint between the bird’s wing and body. Any regular weapon would do it no harm, but this was a cursed sword, surging with Jinni powers.

The Rokh’s wings flailed with a thunderous squawk as you felt your powers bleed into its body, leaving a trail of havoc and corruption. You watched as it thrashed in the air, hurtling toward the ground at an alarming speed, but you didn’t run away. The giant bird fought against the venomous magic, you felt it, but it was losing the fight, easily. It wasn’t long before it crashed into the ground, limbs folded in awkward positions, sending a great puff of sand into the air and forcing you to shield your eyes.

Finally, there was silence.

The wind was quiet as the enormous creature spent its last, excruciating moments. It was as though the universe had held its breath, and only the untamed beating of your heart was apathetic enough to make any noise.

The nightmare was over.

A tingle ran across your skin as you eyed the destruction around you, the chilling bloodshed. Repulsion, disgust, or horror were nowhere to be found in your heart, and you knew why. The sight only made the little voice in your head quiver in exhilaration.

But then, even that voice went silent. “Y-Y/n?”

You spun around in a beat, and a crushing realization struck when your gaze fell upon the Darilmalekan prince, his cousin, and the Sahir. Oh, no.

The reality of the situation dawned on you as your conscious rushed back in. You’ve made a terrible, horrible mistake. The flames in your eyes died out as you returned to your normal form, horns and claws disappearing like illusions.

Hyunjin looked oddly amused, Jeongin was blatantly petrified, but what hurt you was the expression of pure fear distorting Minho’s features. Great going, a voice in your head mocked, you’ve crushed whatever crumbling bond the two of you had.

No, what hurt you the most was the fact that his fear was directed at you, caused by you.

A demon in human skin.

“I-I can explain— I—” the stutter in your voice made you feel small and vulnerable. It felt foreign, wrong. You weren’t a weakling, never were.

Yet, you had never been more helpless.

Minho’s expression changed very little, but he managed to blink once, twice, and thrice before forcing his gaze to the sandy ground. The pulsing ache on his cheek was long forgotten as he inhaled shakily. What he had seen couldn’t be real. It didn’t make sense at all. Yet it happened. Horns erupted from your forehead and claws extended from your fingers, he saw it happen right before his eyes.

For a moment, the monsters were pouncing on you, but in the next moment, you were cutting your way through them with utter ease and terrible violence. Killing, you made it seem easy and simple. There was no remorse on your face.

That wasn’t you.

But...it was.

Daring to look back at your distraught face, he felt his throat run dry. He didn’t know what to say.

Sensing the awkward, still tension, Hyunjin sighed, “Are we waiting for another attack? We should get going and leave explanations for later.”

“R-Right,” you mumbled, letting your gaze fall to the ground and turning southward to resume your long trek wordlessly. Hyunjin followed you instantly, disregarding the bodies scattered across the ground and the large, lifeless bird lying nearby.

You avoided looking at the carcasses as you trudged ahead, finding that one worry was more than enough to keep your mind occupied. The two royals soon followed, but they stayed back — not that you were paying attention, of course.

The wound on your shoulder was almost healed, courtesy of your Jinni powers, but Minho and Jeongin had injuries that should be tended to. They were slightly deep scratches which they cleaned along the way, unwilling to interrupt the walk. Their silence hurt you more than it should’ve.

You’re being sensitive. Get ahold of yourself! A voice scolded inwardly.

The journey was appropriately silent this time, even the Sahir remained quiet as you crossed the sands. You stopped a few times to rest and reenergize, but no words were exchanged. At least not between you and anyone else. You thought you heard Jeongin mutter something to the prince a few times.

That was better. You had more time to think about the reasonable explanation you’d give them later. But even the slow hours of sunlight didn’t seem to be enough, and night befell the desert sooner than you liked.

You reached another village by then, just as you calculated earlier that day, and seeing your bloodied attire and terrible states, the villagers ushered you into their homes quickly.

They offered your group the change of clothing you needed, a place to wash up, and some medical supplies — you didn’t have to pretend to clean your healed wound.

Then, you were sat for dinner in the isolated guest house of the village. The suffocating tension only increased then, and none of you found the will to satisfy your pleading stomachs.

Seated in a small circle around the food, quiet much like the previous hours of the day had been, you dared to be the first one to break the unbearable silence with a sigh. “I think it’s time for an explanation.”

At your hushed words, Minho’s head snapped up, and a similar look of hesitant curiosity illuminated his cousin’s face. Hyunjin, however, smiled, eyes twinkling red when you thought you were hallucinating. “Ah, finally. Go on, demon girl, tell us.”

You caught the dark look Minho threw his way but decided to ignore his words, collecting your thoughts with a deep inhale. The food will be getting cold. “This story is a long one.”

“My family,” you paused, remembering that Hyunjin didn’t know of your royal status, “has been cursed for around a century.”

The prince’s eyebrow arched at this and you took that as a sign to continue your tale. “During the first century of the Arshilmalek Alliance, internal conflict was wreaking havoc across Tallilmalek. The royal forces were in a state of war with the citizens of the kingdom, many were lost due to those attacks. One...of my ancestors fought in a minor battle against the citizen-made forces. The fight took them near the mountains, where the house of one of the most powerful Sahirat was built. The fight was brutal and violent, and it unfortunately killed many innocent children and women. The Sahira’s child was one of them.

“The child and his mother were heading toward their home when they got caught up midst the fight. The mother tried to escape and protect him, but one soldier suspected her of being a threat and shot an arrow in her direction. The soldier...was my ancestor, and his arrow went into the child’s heart.”

Deadly silence settled in the room when you stopped talking. Your story wasn’t over, it had barely begun, but you gave a moment of silence for the innocent soul lost to the raging fires of war. Not a breath was heard, even the wind outside seemed to hush down and listen to your dark secret. An echo of the Sahira’s cry of agony many, many years ago.

“The Sahira caught the bleeding child in her arms with a cry of distress,” you gulped, hating how vivid the scene seemed in your head, “When her eyes landed on the culprit she screamed at him, a curse that would haunt him and his successors forever. May you never forget the pain of loss.

“The soldier thought nothing of her shouts, and while he felt a pang of guilt in his heart, he returned to the fight. Some weeks later, the war ended with the victory of the crown. The soldier went back to his wife, who was pregnant with his son at the time and nearing labor. It wasn’t long before the couple welcomed a new member to their family.

“At first, their son seemed like the other kids. He played with his cousins, he studied with his elders, and he loved his parents very much. But on his sixth birthday, the first incident took place. His mother had gone to tuck him into bed, but never returned to her room. When...the husband went to look for her, he found her in his son’s room, lying in a pool of her own blood. The hole where her heart had been gaped at him, while his son cried over his mother’s body, hands bloody.

“When asked, the son would say he didn’t know what had happened. His mother was there, then she was dying on the floor of his room. It made no sense for a child, only six years of age, to commit such a heartless crime! So, the man decided that an assassin had slipped into his house and murdered his wife, and the boy was put back to bed.

“Some weeks later, in the darkest hour of the night, a scream was heard in the man’s house. He woke with a start and rushed to the source of the sound, which led him to the stables. There, he found his son hunched over the disfigured body of a pony. His pony, he realized, but that didn’t matter as much as the horns erupting from the boy’s forehead and the claws stretching from his fingers.

“His eyes glowed like fire when he snapped his head to look at his father. Something pulsed in the child’s grip, but the man was too terrified to try to know what it was. His son looked like an Ifrit.

“Luckily then, the little boy snapped out of it and dropped to the ground with a sob when he saw his dead pony. The terrible truth had revealed itself to the man, and he found himself remembering the Sahira’s words that day. The first Jinni child had been born.

“Devastated, the man installed extra protection in his house, sent his son to all the Atiba’a and Sahara in the city, and tried to find a way to reverse the curse. But it was all in vain. Many tried to exorcise the Jinni inside the little boy, but none succeeded. No spell nor medication helped. The man gave up then, but the nightmare didn’t end there.

“News reached him that his niece, a few years younger than his son, had murdered her sleeping father and attempted to kill her mother too. The curse had spread to the entirety of the family. Every child born after the war had a Jinni inside them, thirsty for their loved ones’ blood.

“The family denied the curse in the beginning, but when the attacks increased in frequency, they knew they had to find a way to live with it. The parents began to treat their children coldly, to spark dislike and detest in their hearts and protect themselves. When the new generation of half-Jinn took over, they took the liberty to understand the Jinn inside them and develop ways to keep them in check.

“My family became known for their lack of emotions. Generation after generation was taught to carry no feelings to avoid waking the Jinn up. But to replace that hole in their hearts, they began to discover what having a Jinni inside oneself gives from power.”

You dared to tear your gaze from the carpet, sighing as though telling that story was a wearying effort. Quite literally, it was. “What you’ve seen earlier was only some of it.”

“Some of it? There’s— there’s more?” Jeongin’s disbelief didn’t mask the fear in his tone. You couldn’t blame him. You’d be scared of yourself too. “Na’am.”

“And you have full control of the Jinni?” the Sahir seemed intrigued, which didn’t soothe the unease you felt near him. You avoided his eyes when you answered, “Most of the time. It would awaken on its own due to the curse if I’m not careful with my feelings.”

“So, we are all in danger of your Jinni waking up and slaughtering us in our sleep?”

The question shouldn’t have made your chest tighten, especially coming from Hyunjin, but you could feel Minho’s intense gaze on you. Somehow, it made the words coming out of your mouth hurt.

“La, I have no feelings for any of you.”

At this, the prince stood up, excusing himself in an incoherent whisper before rushing out of the room. His cousin soon followed after giving you a confused look, which left you alone with the Sahir.

You knew it would be impolite to leave the food untouched, but you had no will to eat. If anything, you wanted to throw up. Perhaps it was how exposed you felt. No one outside the Tallilmalekan palaces knew of the curse, and no one should.

You’d just broken that, and to none other than your betrothed.

Why were you frustrated?

“You know,” Hyunjin sighed and you looked at him with your lips pressed in a straight line. The Darilmalekan royals were no longer around, you could finally confront him freely. You had much to say. “What?”

“You and I...we’re the same.” You noticed that his hand was closed over a charm he wore around his neck. It wasn’t there before.

“How so?”

“You felt it, didn’t you? That strange energy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you denied. What did this stranger know?

When his eyes began to glow red, you wanted to look away, but it was as though something in them pulled you in. The other soul in you stirred, almost in recognition. Or repulsion.

Something was wrong with the Sahir.

“You felt my presence that night, that’s why you warned Minho, right?” when you didn’t respond, he pressed, “You felt the Nasanees before they came. Don’t you see? Our souls speak the same language.”

You had to get away. This Sahir wasn’t a normal one, something was very wrong. “Pardon me—”

“It’s the whisper of corruption, bloodlust, hell. Like calls to like—”

“Kafa! What do you know about the curse?” you snapped, letting your eyes blaze red threateningly. It only made Hyunjin smile, slow and cryptic. “Oh, I know more than you could imagine, demon girl.”

•؏•

“It seems that Han Jisung was right, for once in his life,” Minho remarked when he sensed his cousin’s presence nearby. He’d left the guest house for a breath of fresh air; it was becoming suffocating inside.

The moon had hidden that night, as if it knew of the events that would unfold and preferred to not witness them. The prince wished he could hide too, return to his palace and his normal life, and forget everything. No magic gemstones, no hellish monsters, and no half-Jinni princesses.

Was he frightened by what you had confessed? Not much. Overwhelmed could be a better word. He didn’t know what to make of this new information. You, who he thought he’d known throughout his life, turned out to be someone else.

Or not.

It conflicted him. You were still you, still his Amira, right? That had always been you, claws and horns, even if he’d never seen them before.

Then why did his heart hurt so much?

“I have no feelings for any of you,” Jeongin repeated your words with a shake of his head. He could almost sense the moment his cousin’s heart collapsed. “I’m sorry, Minho.”

Right, that.

It made perfect sense to the Amir, and he despised it. Your never-changing indifference toward him, your stiff behavior, his useless efforts — you were protecting him from yourself.

No matter what he did, you’d never open your heart to him. You couldn’t risk it.

What did you mean the previous night, then?

It was...unfair, and Minho knew it was silly of him to say. What were the odds of helplessly falling in love with a half-Jinni princess?

The prince sighed, letting his shoulders sag dejectedly, “La ba’as. I suppose we...were never meant to be.”

“Don’t say that...” Jeongin pursed his lips while giving him a sharp look. His cousin was never one to give up, not after a hundred dry smiles and nonchalant words. Something had always pushed him to return those smiles sincerely, to not let rejection bring his spirits down. But the light in his eyes dimmed, and for the first time ever, he looked truly defeated. He knew how much this certain defeat affected him.

“I’m sure there’s a way to fix this.”

Minho gave him a small, sad smile. It was visible despite the darkness of the night. “I’m not sure anymore, Jeongin.”

“But—”

“I think...I need some time to think about it.”

“Alright. I’ll give you some space then.” Jeongin gave in, biting his bottom lip as if keeping in anything he wanted to add. With one last look at Minho, he turned around to return to the guest house. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” the prince mumbled after him. He wasn’t sure if space was what he needed because it seemed to make his thoughts double in loudness.

Not meant for each other, the voice in his mocked. Should’ve lost hope long ago.

Perhaps it was time to lose hope and move on. Better now than wait for his heart to be crushed further.

Minho didn’t want to, but he would try to disregard his feelings.

You seemed to do a great job of that. It shouldn’t be too hard, right?

•؏•

It was impossible.

When Minho awakened the next day and caught sight of you, none of the previous night’s sentiments mattered. He knew he was being a fool, but he couldn’t leave his heart behind. At least, not so soon.

Who was he without loving you?

So, Minho carried his saif and resumed the journey, following you to wherever the Zumurruda guided you.

The sun wasn’t any kinder that day, but no enormous birds were to be seen and for that, you were grateful. You led your companions south, as the Zumurruda continued to compel you. It was a little worrying, as there were no marked villages along your way. You might have to spend the night in the open desert if no solutions came across your minds.

“Can’t you use your...powers to set camp when it’s time?” Jeongin wondered and you shook your head, “La. I can’t transform sand into a house.” It wasn’t a body part you could make weapons out of...

“Oh, well.” He puffed out his cheeks, slightly disappointed. You suppressed a smile. The tension from the previous day had lessened, which was a great relief. You weren’t sure you would be able to handle another suffocatingly silent walk. Although, Minho still didn’t say much.

“What’s the worst that could happen? Have none of you slept under the moon before?” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, missing the look exchanged between you and Jeongin. Royals don’t sleep in the open.

“No, we haven’t. But I suppose there’s nothing to worry about,” the younger royal said. “Y/n, you’ve got Minho, and I have my pouch to sleep on... It wouldn’t be so bad.”

You glared, and an embarrassed cough came from where Minho walked. It only made a mischievous grin grow on Jeongin’s lips.

Rolling your eyes dismissively, you shut your thoughts out before they became dangerous. “We might find a Waha along the way. There’s still a long day ahead of us.”

“Pray to the Aliha we do,” Jeongin muttered, raising his head to squint at the sun, “It’s formidably cold during the night.”

And you did. You wished in your heart for somewhere safe to spend the night at before lapsing into comfortable silence. The four of you traveled undisturbed for several hours, stopping to rest before continuing your seemingly endless route.

No signs of life crossed your path as the sun inched westward. No villages or caravans, not even a tree or a well. You’d begun to worry when the sky’s blue poured into a light purple, until a dark bush in the distance caught your attention. “There’s something ahead!”

It was too late for a mirage to fool you, and the closer you got, the clearer it became. The dark bush rose to become the tips of a cluster of palm trees. You’d found an oasis.

You found yourself rushing toward it as if it would slip away like a fragment of your imagination. Your prayers were answered after all. You wouldn’t have to sleep the night in the cruel cold.

The oasis wasn’t big, but neither was it small. You walked through several rows of trees before reaching the heart keeping them alive, a spring of water. It was more than you could’ve asked for.

Running to the water, Jeongin was the first to plunge his hands in and splash his face with it. Hyunjin disregarded him and found a palm tree to lean on while Minho stayed back, looking around before announcing, “I’ll gather tinder to light a fire.”

“I’ll join you.” Jeongin stood and unsheathed his saif. If Minho had given him a discouraging look, he didn’t see it before following him deeper into the oasis.

You were once more left alone with Hyunjin.

You decided to sit at the base of a tree a little away from the Sahir, still unsettled by his presence. Bringing out a bundle of tamir, you chewed on a piece to recharge when Hyunjin asked, “What kind of tinder are those two planning to collect with their suyoof?”

You took your time before swallowing your food and answering him nonchalantly, “I suppose they’ll be cutting some fronds from a low nakhla.”

The Sahir nodded wistfully before shaking his head as if in disbelief. “It still strikes me as a wonder why the two of them are accompanying you on this journey. You clearly don’t depend on them.”

You ignored him, instead taking notice of the thin crescent moon smiling at you from its reflection on the water. There’s some light tonight, you thought, mind wandering off to Minho’s and Jeongin’s whereabouts. You could hear the sound of branches being chopped off not too far away.

“Ignoring my questions only confirms my assumptions, y/n. You’re using them, aren’t you? What else would a half-Jinni want with useless humans?” Hyunjin pressed, almost as if desperately trying to dig out an evil plan from you. It was beginning to become annoying.

A ‘tsk’ left your lips as you rolled your eyes at him, knowing that he could clearly see you. “I am not using them, Hyunjin. They are my companions.”

“Companions? Pathetic,” the Sahir chuckled dryly. “Jeongin, I think I can understand, but the other one? What company does he provide exactly? All he does is brandish his saif around and glare. Or is it the face you’re keeping him around for?”

You didn’t understand it completely, but something about Hyunjin speaking about Minho that way bothered you. What did the Sahir know about him to talk like that?

You knew you were letting your emotions have the best of you when you replied bitterly, “He has a name, you know. And he’s my fiancé.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was lifting an eyebrow. His uncanny interest sent a chill up your spine.

The conversation was fortunately cut short when Minho arrived along with Jeongin, each carrying a few branches. They set on kindling the fire in no time, and a bright flame soon lit up the area. The shadows that danced on the palm trees were almost eerie, but that didn’t bother Jeongin as he plopped on the sand wearily, dropping his bag and sighing tiredly. He didn’t care to eat something before wishing you all a good night and dozing off almost immediately. You didn’t question his behavior, finding yourself eager to do just the same. If only the ever so faint ache in your heart would quiet down.

The cause of that ache, you knew, but found no courage to confront.

You weren’t a fool to deny that Minho’s silence bothered you more than it should’ve. It was as if he were purposely avoiding you, and if you were to be honest, you missed the meager talk you’d share with him.

You might never be able to talk to him normally again, just when things began to better. With that thought, you gave up on trying to fall asleep and took on gazing at the dotted sky. It had become so beguilingly silent that you would’ve missed the faint rustle of a sword running through sand. Almost.

You snapped your head in the direction of the sound, and that was when you noticed that on the other side of the spring, someone was awake.

Perhaps just as conflicted with thought as you were, Minho had chosen to lean on a tree away from the three of you. He, too, had trouble falling asleep.

He couldn’t see you like you’d seen him, clear and beautiful despite the dark. As he’d always been.

Looking around, you found that the Sahir was asleep, or at least seemed to be. You held your breath. That was your chance.

Gulping anxiously, you pushed yourself to your feet and walked carefully through the sand and around the glimmering eye of the spring. It didn’t take long for the prince to notice you, for he stopped playing with his saif and laid it on the ground gently. Something flashed in his eyes, unexplainable, when they rose to regard your approaching figure.

For a moment there, you hesitated. What if I’m doing the wrong thing? But that thought was shoved away by the words that fell out of your lips thoughtlessly. “May I sit?”

Minho’s response came in a whisper after a few beats of silence, as though he was in disbelief. “Of course.”

You mustered a weak smile, which went unseen, before sitting beside him on the hardened sand. You could see the fire flicker and wave at you from across the spring as if it were wishing you good luck. You needed it.

“Have you eaten?”

Your question was met with a shrug. “La... I’m not hungry.”

You hummed in acknowledgement before letting silence take you into its suffocating embrace. You’d run out of things to say, and you dreaded delving into the topic. But you knew that there was no escaping it, that this might be the only chance you’d get to talk in privacy, so you inhaled deeply and pushed down your worries.

What’s the worst that could happen anyway? You’d tried all what the universe had to offer.

“Do you remember Changmin?”

Minho was slightly taken aback by your question, but he nodded nonetheless, “Na’am. Why?”

He remembered your little brother. He was only a few months old when he was announced dead in an assassination. It was said that mourning over his death killed the Tallilmalekan Queen.

Your gaze was trained on the crescent in the sky as you spoke, letting yet another family secret free. “Ummi had done a great job with raising the three of us. She’d repressed her Jinni excellently. But with his birth...her biggest fear lived.”

The air stopped in Minho’s lungs when a ghastly realization struck about what you were telling him. Your little brother was not assassinated but rather—

“Perhaps she’d thought she was safe, so she let her heart loose,” you paused with a heavy sigh, “It was only a few months before we found her wailing over his lifeless body, covered in his blood. It...killed her.”

The Amir couldn’t speak. His tongue felt too heavy to lift. When you’d first explained the curse, he thought he’d encompassed the horror of it. He was wrong.

You sighed again, knowing that your story must’ve been unpleasant to hear. “I-I suppose what I’m trying to say is...asifa. I owe you an explanation for all that’s happening.”

When he remained quiet, you continued, “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, and there is some truth to them. We’ve kept the curse in our family for as long as we can remember and as a result, people began to take notice of our outside relations and political marriages. We can’t afford to torment more innocent people with the crimes of our ancestors. I-I know I can’t ask this of you, but I hope you would keep some understanding in your heart. I don’t want you to be hurt— I don’t want to hurt you.”

Minho would’ve thought he imagined the last few words had they not repeated in his head like a prayer. Suddenly, he felt like the most selfish prince to walk upon the land. There you were, worried that you’d hurt him, while he was letting his own heartbreak blind him. You didn’t choose to live that way, why was he putting the blame on you?

“You don’t have to apologize,” he spoke, startled by the strange rawness in his voice. “It’s not— it’s not your fault.”

You wanted to laugh as you brought your gaze down, but a shiny object caught your attention instead. The ring encircling the prince’s fourth finger reflected the thin moonlight elegantly, almost mocking in its pride. You didn’t recall seeing him without it ever since your engagement ceremony a couple of years ago. It made your heart lurch weirdly.

Looking back at your bare fingers, guilt crumbled like a brittle statue in your chest. La, you had a lot to apologize for. “It’s not that.

“Ever throughout our lives, I’ve made you feel unwanted for no apparent reason. You deserve much better than that, had fate not been so cruel. Asifa, for despite all my efforts, you are still in danger.”

“What do you mean?” Minho gulped, making you chuckle sardonically, “Have you tried fighting your heart before?”

You didn’t expect an answer, but you still paused before continuing, “It’s not easy... You don’t make it any easier either.”

When you’d spent your life cutting your conversations as short as can be, it felt almost liberating to speak with the prince for that long. You decided that maybe, you’d let your guard down for the night. Just this once.

But while you savored the sweetness of that momentary freedom, Minho felt as though he was running out of air. Was that a slight confession, or was exhaustion finally getting into his mind? He was glad you didn’t push for any responses from him, or else he might’ve said something undeniably foolish.

You had too much power over him, and he doubted you even knew.

“S-So,” the prince cleared his throat. He shouldn’t get too happy, not with the curse still holding you down. “that’s how it’ll stay?”

You didn’t have to ask to know that he meant the odd relationship the two of you had; hidden feelings and unrequited love. You smiled weakly, “La. There’s something...you should know.”

At that, Minho hummed, prompting you to proceed. And you did, with an undertone of excitement. “There is a way to break the curse.”

“The Sahira who created the curse had enchanted a stone heart to absorb all her magic when she dies. It is called the Sahira’s Heart, and it is hidden somewhere in the Isle of the damned.

“Shattering the Sahira’s Heart would destroy all the curses she’d laid. To find it, the Sahira created the Zumurruda.”

Minho was quick to put the pieces together and he concluded with newfound hope, “And the Zumurruda actually leads to the Sahira’s Heart.”

“Correct,” you nodded. “Many princes have tried finding it before me, but as you can see, none succeeded.”

“Why?”

“It’s a dangerous journey.”

“Why are you taking it then? Aren’t you...afraid?”

His question caught you off guard. Following the Zumurruda had always been a purpose you ran after. Never had you stopped to think about fear. Sure, you knew that the journey wasn’t a passing breeze, but were you afraid?

You shrugged, “La.”

“And I know you might be thinking that if the princes before me failed, I should know better than to follow the same route. But you must know that unlike those princes, I am willing to use my powers,” you exhaled, voice dropping to a murmur, “even if it costs me dearly.”

It was at that moment Minho knew that he would follow you to hell and back unhesitatingly. He was bound to you until the sky falls, and a curse won’t be changing that anytime. “I’ll be with you then, Amirati.”

You smiled, swiftly calming the ripple of flutters in your heart. “Shukran—”

The word stuck in your throat like pebbles in mud when a gust of unease slammed into you. Something was wrong.

No, something was approaching.

You stood with a start, eyes darting from one side to another in suffocating anticipation. This was different. Unlike the Afarit or the Nasanees, it felt big, and far more dangerous. Untamed.

Like calls to like, Hyunjin had said. That thing wasn’t your like.

It felt more like the complete opposite. The Jinni in you seemed almost...afraid.

Your sudden actions made Minho frown in concern, “Is something wrong—” he didn’t get to ask because right then, the ground rumbled, and you reached for him with an exclamation, “Look out!”

The onyx horn appeared to glow in the night. You would’ve been in awe had it not been connected to a terrifying creature, and had it not made you feel lightheaded. This is not good.

The Mi’raj. None of the sketches you’d seen of it prepared you for the sheer horror of the monster. What seemed like an enormous rabbit had fur the color of Qahwa, claws that ripped from darkened paws, eyes that pulsed red, and a magnificent horn that crowned its head. It had an appearance that was so abominable that the Jinni in you repulsed in disgust...or fear.

The beast grunted as it lunged at the two of you, not sparing a moment for you to catch your breath. Pushing Minho out of the way, you threw yourself to the other side and scrambled to your feet when the Mi’raj halted to a stop.

You tasted sand, and Minho shouted above the commotion, “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know. Wake the rest!” You cried as you avoided a stab from the beast’s horn by a hair. You tried calling on to your powers, but it was like lighting a fire midst heartless wind.

It was of no use.

You resorted to running for your life when it caught the bottom of your cloak and ripped it apart. It followed you relentlessly as you stumbled along your way through the palm trees. But you could only run away for so long, and you knew that eventually, it would catch you. Desperation was beginning to savage your heart as helplessness closed in on you.

Why can’t you summon your powers? You opened the doors for your Jinni to take over, but it stayed hidden. It refused to make an appearance.

You were to deal with that monster alone.

That was the first time you’d felt genuine, raw fear, and you never wanted to experience it again. How ironic.

You thought you heard shouts coming from behind, but you couldn’t distinguish them from those in your mind. The Mi’raj seemed to target you alone, and you didn’t have to guess to know why. It, too, came for the Zumurruda.

The Zumurruda.

Oh.

An idea struck you like a splash of water under the blazing sun and you fidgeted to pull the gemstone out of your tunic. You made an abrupt turn, which resulted in the Mi’raj crashing into a few trees. This bought you a few seconds to hold the Zumurruda and call on to your powers again.

The Zumurruda was a relic of great power, and you thought that if you could pull its magic into yourself, you might be able to defeat the Mi’raj. You only had to figure out how to do that.

Your muscles burned from running in the sand, but you couldn’t give in to the pain. The Mi’raj was back on your trail sooner than you wished, but that didn’t matter because you found an opening in the Zumurruda’s pull. A loose thread, and you pulled at it eagerly.

You opened your soul to it, much like you did to welcome your Jinni powers. The Zumurruda’s magic felt cold, corrupt, and it would’ve made you shy away had you not been desperate for anything to save yourself.

You didn’t know if your hands had gotten cold, but the gemstone was suddenly too warm. Magic, so corrupted and viscous, seeped into your system. For a beat there, you realized the mistake you’d committed.

This was the same magic that cursed you and your family. The same magic that damned this land. It was evil. What had you taken in?

A terrible squeak behind you snapped you out of your thoughts and you lost your footing, tripping and twisting your ankle as you came face to face with the sand. But you had no time to dwell over the sharp pain, for the Mi’raj pounced on you with a haunting growl and you were plunged into numbness.

The Zumurruda was still in your hand when you shielded your face with your arms, ready to surrender to your cruel fate with closed eyes. Right then, you thought of home, of your mother and father, of your brother and sister.

You’d tried. You’d tried to end their misery once and for all, for them and for yourself. But that was the end of it all. You thought of Minho, and how heartless fate had been toward the two of you.

Perhaps that was it. That was the last act in the play of your fates.

It felt like an incomplete ending.

A ring of white light exploded from the Zumurruda upon contact with the tip of the Mi’raj’s horn, engulfing you in pure brilliance. For a moment there, you felt light, weightless, as though you were floating amid the clouds before falling back to the hard ground. You felt heavy then. Something pressed on your chest, narrowing your breaths to choked gasps.

Alive or dead, you couldn’t tell, but you caught the shouts that surrounded you before losing yourself to the forbidding darkness.

•؏•

Minho was sure his soul had left his body when he found you lying still under the lifeless body of the Mi’raj. He dropped the torch in his hand and fell to your side, helplessly trying to push off the monster and pull you out. Jeongin rushed to his aid instantly, while Hyunjin observed apathetically.

The three had been following you when a flash of light caught their attention. To the two royals, it was a clear indicator of your whereabouts, but to the Sahir, it was different news. A familiar energy was released with that light, and he was dreadfully aware of its source.

The Zumurruda.

You did something and it cost great magic.

After much struggling, Minho and Jeongin managed to drag your body away from the beast. That’s when Minho noticed something horribly wrong. A curse left his lips as his hands rested on your face in worried pats. “She’s cold— too cold. Bring the torch or anything, we need fire!”

Jeongin stood and hurried to the torch Minho had dropped earlier. It was dying out quickly, but he supposed that was better than nothing.

He brought it back to Minho, who had a hand placed on the side of your neck. There was a pulse, and he released a breath he’d been holding for too long. You’re alive.

Taking the torch from Jeongin, the prince noticed that the flame was getting smaller. It was barely enough to warm you up.

“What are you doing?” Jeongin eyed his cousin weirdly when he unraveled his litham, piled it on the ground, and dropped the flaming torch over it. The fire rose, and Minho responded casually, “We don’t have time to collect more tinder.”

“But what about your head—”

“I’ll be okay. Bring some water and bandages,” Minho dismissed his worries and knelt beside you again, pushing you to lie a little closer to the small fire. He checked for any obvious injuries and noticed that your left hand was bleeding profusely from a wound across your palm.

When he examined it closely, he noticed the shards of a green gemstone poking through the cut and with a grimace, he carefully removed them. The pieces were covered in blood, but they weren’t hard to recognize. They were pieces of—

“The Zumurruda.”

Minho snapped his head in the direction of the voice to find Hyunjin standing behind him, an unsettling expression illuminating his face as he peered at the broken pieces of the gemstone. Gripping the hilt of his sword, the prince stood to face him threateningly, “Stand back.”

“Oh, look who’s becoming angry,” Hyunjin raised a brow, “You know, you are in no place to pretend as though I am the villain here. You lied to me about the Zumurruda and now your fiancée broke it.”

The Sahir’s eyes began to glow red as his voice grew in depth. “If anyone were to be angry here it should be me, and you should’ve known better than to meddle around in—”

A sharp gasp followed by a coarse cough interrupted him, and Minho spent no time to return to your side and help you into a sitting position.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” he muttered, although it sounded as though he was reassuring himself instead. He had an arm wrapped around your shoulders to support you, while gently massaging your shoulders to encourage your body to relax. It was a method he’d learned from the royal medic.

Jeongin arrived right then, carrying a waterskin and the necessary supplies. The Sahir watched, silently seething, as the prince offered you water and his cousin tended to your wounded hand. You were mumbling incoherently, refusing water and treatment, but Minho was not giving in. “Y/n, please, you need to drink water.”

“B-But...” your words were slurred, as though the mere act of speech was a grueling effort you weren’t capable of. The prince’s tone was gentle, and it made Hyunjin’s skin crawl in disgust. Or envy. “You can say all you want, just have a sip of water first.”

You remained still for a moment, limply leaning on Minho for support, before weakly reaching out for the waterskin. Quickly noticing your efforts, your fiancé helped you lift the pouch to your lips.

The world slowly blinked into clarity after you took a long sip of water. It took you several moments to realize that Minho was almost holding you in an embrace, and while it made the Jinni inside you recoil, you didn’t wish to move. It was comfortable in ways you forbade yourself from indulging in.

Jeongin had finished bandaging your hand when you noticed shiny, green bits in the ground. Your weariness didn’t hinder you from recognizing it and you whispered, almost in disbelief, “The Zumurruda...”

“Yes, the Zumurruda,” came a voice, so dark and beguiling. The Sahir picked a shard from the ground and let it rest in the palm of his hand. “You broke it.”

At his words, you took in a breath that felt like doom. You’d broken the Zumurruda.

What had you done?

“I knew you had it, but I didn’t expect you to break it. If I’d known, I would’ve taken it from you, you foolish human!” Hyunjin’s fist curled over the green shard and the air began to crackle dangerously. The prince didn’t seem to notice that as he scowled. “Be quiet.”

“No, h-he’s right,” you managed to murmur. “I...broke it.”

“I’m sure there’s another explanation.”

“No, there is not!” Hyunjin advanced threateningly, eyes blazing red as though he was going to lay a deadly curse on the three of you. At that moment, Jeongin swiftly unsheathed his saif and held it against the Sahir’s neck. “I presume we told you to be quiet.”

Hyunjin glared at the young royal before rolling his eyes, “I suppose there is no point in arguing now, is there?”

A weak whisper came from you. “But how...will we find the Sahira’s Heart now?”

Jeongin frowned in confusion, “What?”

“See! It is truly a dilemma,” Hyunjin stepped away from the edge of the sword and clasped his hands behind his back. “How will we find the Sahira’s Heart?”

“Why do you care?” Minho scoffed, to which Hyunjin tutted, “We’ve been in this perilous journey together, I suppose I feel an obligation to finish it with you.”

You would’ve laughed at the prince’s exaggerated eye roll had you not been half conscious. “There’s...no point in resuming this journey...there is no Zumurruda t-to guide us...”

“Right, right,” the Sahir paused, pondering, before he smiled knowingly, “I might know of a way...”

“There’s a cave on the Isle of the Damned fabled to hide riches beyond one’s imagination.” Hyunjin’s tone was that of wonder as he spoke. “It is said that a Marid is trapped there, and it could grant its freer three wishes.”

Jeongin raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t that a mere legend?”

“Yes, but so are the Nasanees and the Rokh. It might as well be true.”

“Are we going to resume this journey relying on a legend?” Minho interjected, skepticism clear in his voice. “Are we sure this wouldn’t be a great waste of time?”

“Do you want to find the Sahira’s Heart or not?” Hyunjin argued. “You’ve already wasted time coming here then breaking the Zumurruda.”

“I don’t like repeating myself, ya Sahir,” the prince narrowed his eyes when Hyunjin brought up the broken gemstone once more. The latter ignored him, and you found it would be better to speak before an argument broke out. “The Sahir might be right. If we can...find this cave, then we might be able to wish for the Sahira’s Heart...”

“I suppose there’s something I am unaware of,” Jeongin cleared his throat, “What is this ‘Sahira’s Heart’?”

“I’ll explain to you later,” Minho answered him before turning his attention to you, “Are you sure you want to do this? We can also return home...”

You took in a quiet breath. After all that had happened in the past few days, you knew you weren’t ready to give up yet. “I still want...to try.”

“It is set then!” Hyunjin clasped his hands, appearing a tad bit too enthusiastic in comparison to his outburst a short while ago. “I’ll be seeing you by sunrise.”

The three of you gave him no response as he strode away, back to the heart of the oasis. Jeongin soon followed, after asking if his help was needed and gathering the supplies he brought. You found yourself alone with Minho again, much like you were an hour ago. Silence had finally settled around the two of you.

Your soul was at peace, which you thought was odd, considering the disaster dawning on you. You didn’t know what happened after you blacked out. The Zumurruda was broken, and months of planning were gone in a blink.

All you had left was faith in Hyunjin’s plan. Who would’ve thought you’d be trusting the Sahir after all?

Close to you, Minho found himself at peace too. Concern still nagged at the back of his mind, but with you alive and breathing in his arms, it became a hushed whisper. His heart didn’t hammer in his chest, as he’d expected it to if he were to ever hold you. Instead, it was calm, blissful. And selfishly, he wished that moment would last.

It wouldn’t, he knew.

A sigh left your lips, “Minho, I have to tell you...something.”

A hum encouraged you to continue. “I think...I absorbed the Zumurruda’s power.”

“What do you mean?” the prince sounded almost afraid.

“The Mi’raj, I couldn’t use my powers near it,” you recalled, “I...thought that if I could use the Zumurruda’s power I might be able to defeat it somehow. I-I don’t know what happened next but that broke it.”

You finally turned your gaze to where the Mi’raj lay. Only then did you take a good look at it and notice the substance of which its horn was made.

Abarmout Stone.

Things began to make sense suddenly. The precious stone was used to ward off evil, and it could only be found in the depths of Bahr Abarmout. Evils, such as your Jinni powers, were useless against it.

But not the Zumurruda. The Sahira’s powers were beyond hell and its devilry.

“I’ve made a big...mistake.”

“That was not a mistake,” Minho asserted. “You had to do anything to save yourself and if a meager rock was the cost, then so be it.”

“Well, whatever was in that meager rock is in my blood now.” A ghost of a laugh danced in your voice, though you hadn’t the heart to laugh. “I don’t know what this might mean but...you have the right to know what happened to the Zumurruda.”

“It’s alright. It doesn’t matter to me as it matters to others. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Asifa,” that was the only response you could utter, and it seemed to confuse the prince just as much. “Why?”

“For dragging you along this...aimless, perilous trek. I should’ve been doing this alone.”

At that moment, Minho was convinced you were rambling off due to exhaustion. Why else would you say something like that?

“Y/n,” he sighed, “I suggested to join you, and I wouldn’t take back my words for anything.”

“But—”

“I promise.”

You fell silent at that. There was no changing his mind.

“Can you walk?” Minho asked after a beat, and you brought your knees close to your body with a whisper, “I think so.”

Your shoulders felt cold when Minho removed his arm from around you to stand. He held a hand out for you, and you grabbed it reluctantly as you pushed yourself to your feet. The fire near you was dying out, but that didn’t explain the formidable cold you felt at your fingertips.

Nor the chill that pumped out of your heart.

•؏•

You reached Kahif Al Ghareeb after two days of wearying travel. The cave was situated at the base of one of the Isle’s great mountains, and Hyunjin claimed it was the fabled place.

You couldn’t deny the eeriness of the cave. There was magic inside, indeed. Perhaps, your journey won’t end in vain after all...

“This is the entrance?” Jeongin remarked loudly, raising an eyebrow at the enormous rock blocking the cave’s opening.

“Na’am. Does it not look like an entrance to you?” Hyunjin retorted, stepping toward the rocky barrier.

The three of you followed him. “Well, you can’t enter through it.”

“Not unless you say the magic words.”

“The what?”

“The magic words— have none of you heard the tale of Ali Baba?” the Sahir was both baffled and disappointed. You caught his low murmur of ‘people of this age’ and decided not to comment on it. “It’s a tale for a reason.”

“You, out of all people, shouldn’t be saying this,” Hyunjin shook his head. “You breathe magic.”

You disregarded him as Jeongin frowned, “So you’re implying that if we simply say ‘Iftah ya simsim’ the rock would miraculously mo—”

A rumble coming from within the mountain cut him off, and you wanted to laugh when the entrance cleared slowly as though the rock were a simple door. You’ve seen enough magic in the past days, a moving boulder shouldn’t have been a surprise.

Hyunjin’s expression was strangely smug as he strode into the dark cave. From your place, you could see mounds of what seemed to be gold and jewelry, strewn across the cave. It was unreal, even for a royal like you.

The Sahir stopped short and clasped his hands, muttering something before throwing them outward and illuminating the cave in the light of a thousand flames. You could hear Minho’s slow inhale of wonder when his gaze fell upon the treasures inside. “It’s real.”

“Everything is real,” Hyunjin shrugged. “Now will you continue to stand there like fools, or will you step in?”

“Right,” the prince muttered before walking toward the Sahir. You and Jeongin followed.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” you hid your awe as you came to stand beside Hyunjin. The unnerving energy around him had become less unsettling in the past couple of days. He gave you a cryptic smile, “You could do anything if you stop trying to be so human.”

Before you could respond to that, Minho questioned, “What do we do now?”

“We look for the Marid’s lamp,” the Sahir answered matter-of-factly.

“Amid all this? That would be impossible.”

“Well, not impossible per se,” Hyunjin crossed his arms, pondering for a short while before announcing, “My instincts tell me we should look in the far left corner of the cave.”

Minho rolled his eyes sarcastically and directed his attention toward you, “What do you say?”

“I don’t know. I suppose we look wherever Hyunjin says to begin,” you shrugged, and so the four of you began the long search.

It was almost impossible, as the prince complained, for there was much to sift through and you had no map to guide you.

Almost.

You noticed the strange pull the closer you neared the corner at which Hyunjin pointed. Magic. And you could feel it like you felt the approach of the Afarit and the Nasanees. You relied on that inner compass.

Your search was approaching no advancements when you heard commotion by the entrance of the cave. You noticed it first, the sound of loud conversation and the thumping of hooves.

You weren’t alone.

Soon enough, Minho and Jeongin noticed it too and shared alarmed looks. The Sahir seemed unbothered.

“What do you mean the Zumurruda is gone too? First the Rokh, then the Mi’raj, and now this?!” you could make out an angry exclamation and your heart dropped in realization. They must be the people who sent all those monsters to attack you and retrieve the Zumurruda. They jeopardized your life, Minho’s, and Jeongin’s throughout the past days.

The coincidence was perturbing, and you truly weren’t prepared for another fight.

“Wait!” the shout was closer. “The entrance is open— someone’s here!”

Minho unsheathed his saif, “I’ll go settle this—”

You placed a hand on his arm to keep him from moving. “Stay here. I don’t know what they are capable of.”

“Oh, stop worrying. It’s probably a band of harmless thieves,” Hyunjin said with a dismissive wave of his hand, to which you scowled, whispering, “These “thieves” are the same people who sent that Rokh to attack us! Didn’t you hear?”

He spared you a second-long glance and shrugged, continuing to look through a treasure chest.

You wished you could smack him.

“Quick! Search the cave!” a command from who you assumed was the leader sounded across the cave and Minho gave you a desperate look, “I can’t just sit here, they’ll find us eventually!”

When you didn’t budge, he reasoned, “Let me and Jeongin distract them while you search for the lamp. Them finding the two of us is better than finding us all.”

“He’s right,” Jeongin interjected and you had to sigh in exasperation. “What if they outnumber you and your distraction doesn’t help us? These people are dangerous.”

“More dangerous than the Nasanees?” the prince suggested.

“I don’t know, maybe!”

“Trust us, y/n,” he paused, as if contemplating his next words before sighing, “Just focus on finding the lamp, and we’ll get out of here.”

Your heart screamed at you to deny his request, but your mind propelled you otherwise. Minho’s plan did seem like the best thing to do. Though, you had a feeling you would regret the words that fell from your mouth. “Fine. Be safe.”

It wasn’t long after Minho and Jeongin snuck away did you hear a stranger shout, “I’ve found them!”

You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand and find the lamp, but it proved to be impossible. With the shouts and the clashing of swords invading every comprehensible thought of yours, you couldn’t keep your mind off the prince and his cousin. If those thieves had the means to summon a Rokh, then you were justifiably concerned for the safety of your companions.

Concerned enough to miss the growing pull of magic that was tugging at your soul.

“I think— y/n!” the Sahir brought you out of your thoughts and you blinked at him distractedly, “Na’am?”

“Focus, will you? Can’t you feel where the lamp lies?”

“I think so,” you drawled.

“Then what is it telling you? Why aren’t you doing anything?!”

“I—” you turned to face him, eyes wide in fear. “Asifa. I have to help them.”

“La! We need to find the lamp!” Hyunjin called after you, but you couldn’t hear him as you made your way toward the commotion. You found them, a large group of bandits teamed against the two Darilmalekan royals. It wasn’t an ordinary fight, for they appeared to want to kill with each swing of their swords. They were like a pack of wild hounds.

A familiar presence within you awakened at the scene, bloodthirsty.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a man wrapped in black advance on a distracted Jeongin with his saif raised. To your sheer horror, he brought his sword down on the unsuspecting royal’s head, eliciting a chilling cry from him. It reverberated within your bones, numbing your limbs, stealing your voice, and throwing your world into mayhem. In a moment of weakness, Minho turned toward his fallen cousin. His assailants were quick to take advantage of his distraction.

The flash of swords was the last you saw before your vision dipped into blood and you found yourself tearing through the bandits in a haze.

Your clawed hands burned with bright flames as they ravaged anything and everything within their reach. You couldn’t discern your enemies from your friends, all were the same in the eyes of your Jinni. Prey.

You didn’t feel it, but the cave shook with the fury that pulsed in your heart. Your blind carnage didn’t last long, for many escaped or hid. Most, but one.

He stood, saif in hand, as he called on his bandits, “You fools! You’ve seen worse monsters!”

A flicker of thought crossed your mind. He must be their leader.

A new spark of rage ignited in your soul, and in a beat, you were grabbing his neck and throwing him into a pile of gold. Blisters were appearing on his neck in place of your blazing grip, but you felt no remorse as you proceeded toward him again.

His scream of horror went unheard when your clawed hand covered his face, digging into the skin mercilessly. When you spoke, it wasn’t your voice. “Y-You.”

You dragged your hand downward, slow and torturous. This time, his screams were loud enough to pierce the veil of bloodlust clouding your mind, but what stopped you was the arm that swung against your neck and pulled you backward. Instinctively, you pushed your attacker off, sending him hurtling across the clearing. You’d let go of the bandits’ leader and turned around to look at who you pushed, locking gazes.

You saw it then.

Fear.

And your senses crashed back into you with a horrified gasp. Blood had lathered your arms and tinted your clothes, but you only cared to rush to his side. “Minho!”

He didn’t struggle to sit upright, although you noticed he clutched his right arm with a grimace. His eyes were glazed over when you dropped to your knees beside him, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Minho shook his head, seemingly elsewhere, “Where’s Jeongin?”

Jeongin. You stood with a start, looking around frantically and praying to all the Aliha he didn’t fall victim to your Jinni’s violence. You spotted him lying on the ground, limbs sprawled lifelessly, resting on a blanket of his own blood. Minho trailed behind you, and when he saw his dear cousin, he fell to his side with a choked sob. His hands roamed his face, trying, searching for some hope.

You didn’t find it in you to stand any closer. Death was looming around you, and you refused to let it take Jeongin away. There must be a way to fix this. There must be something—

“Well, at least some of us did something useful while you hooligans wasted your time brawling with bandits,” came Hyunjin’s voice from behind. You snapped around to face him, noticing the golden lamp he tossed between his hands. Hope burst through your heart. “You found it.”

Minho let his attention wander to the Sahir at your words. He, too, recognized the shiny artifact.

Hyunjin shrugged, tossing it toward an attentive Minho, “Of course I did. Now do with it what you please, we haven’t gotten all day.”

You were too elated by the discovery to question the Sahir’s words or intentions, urging the prince to summon the Marid instead, “Go on, we can save him!”

Minho didn’t think twice before rubbing the side of the lamp, desperate for anything to save his cousin. You watched as smoke swirled out of the mouth of the lamp, circling the air until it formed the torso and the head of a man. Tinged purple, the Marid with great dark hair and golden cuffs bowed to its freer. “Shubbaek Lubbaek. You, who has summoned me, are granted three wishes of your heart’s true desire.”

There was no time to marvel at the magnificence of the magical being, not when Jeongin was dying before the prince’s eyes. He cried to the Marid, “Please, save him! Bring him back to us!”

“Is that your first wish?” The Marid’s voice boomed throughout the cave as though it came from the depths of the ground.

“Yes!”

“Your wish is my command.”

When you looked back at Jeongin, the bleeding cut across his head had disappeared, almost like it never was there. His wounds, gone, and instead of lifeless, he seemed to be peacefully asleep.

You didn’t miss the tears brimming Minho’s eyes as a sigh tangled with a chuckle left his lips, “I-It’s real he’s—!”

Minho halted mid-sentence, letting out a strangled noise as his eyes widened in shock and his world lapsed into eerie silence. His gaze drifted downward slowly until it met the tip of the saif poking out of his chest, scarlet with his blood.

“It has been five days!” Changbin slammed a hand on the table, where many advisors and the Darilmalekan King sat. They were feeding him more empty promises, he knew, and the Tallilmalekan Crown Prince had had quite enough. “Five days and there’s not a single trace of them!”

The King narrowed his eyes. He, too, had enough of your brother’s stubbornness. “We are aware. Our scouts—”

“Your scouts are doing an unsatisfactory job,” Changbin remarked. “They shouldn’t be taking this long to find them.”

“Pardon us, then. This is the most we can do.”

“Fine,” the prince threw his hands in the air, “we’ll be bringing our own forces to search for them.”

The Darilmalekan King sighed, “Please, be reasonable.”

“Reasonable? After your Crown Prince ran away with the Amira? That’s quite ambitious of you to request—”

“Your Highness!” a guard barged into the meeting room, gasping for air. “Apologies, but we’ve received important news.”

“Proceed,” the king nodded to him.

“A traveler claimed to have spotted the crown prince, along with prince Jeongin and the princess in a village in the Isle of the Damned,” he informed, and Changbin hoped he masked his surprise well.

“The Isle of the Damned? Whatever brought them there?” the King questioned. Changbin knew just why.

You were seeking the Sahira’s Heart. He shook his head inwardly, though he couldn’t suppress the faint pride he felt. Never knew you had it in you, little sister.

•؏•

“I’ll take that.” Hyunjin leaned to grab the lamp in Minho’s loose grip before pulling out the saif forcefully and tossing it to the side. That action made the prince double over and almost collapse on Jeongin’s body, had you not caught him in time. It all happened too quickly, and you found yourself lost amid confusion, betrayal, and anger.

Your breaths shook as you felt Minho become weaker in your arms. He tried to push himself up, but his efforts were to no avail. The blood gushing out of the wound was enough to determine his cruel fate.

Your gaze snapped toward the Sahir and you cried in a blur of emotions, “Why would you do that?!”

He gave you a scornful glance, “For what reasons beyond the obvious?”

“You gave him the lamp!”

“You really aren’t as smart as you appear,” he turned to fully face you, and you thought you imagined the sneer of a demon in his face. “Good magic doesn’t respond to us, spawns of the Devil.”

“You—” you paused when you caught Minho’s frail murmur, “Let...me down.”

You could only oblige, even though you didn’t want to let him go. Helping him rest his head on the rocky ground, anger began to invade your heart, stronger than ever.

You stood to face Hyunjin again, and he shook his head at your appearance, “Would you look at yourself...lathered in blood and desperate to kill. When will you learn to stop chasing human desires?”

“What do you want with the lamp? You said it wouldn’t respond to your magic, and the Marid will only listen to its master,” you ignored his question, having grown tired of his cryptic speech. Human desires?

“It wouldn’t respond to my magic if I were to summon the Marid. Fortunately, your fiancé did the job. Manipulation is an easy feat after that.” Hyunjin was apathetic, you’d noticed that days ago, and you’d finally decided you’d had enough of the Sahir. “And?”

“And,” he scowled, “since you’ve broken the Zumurruda, this is my only means of getting what I truly want! Revenge on all those who killed her!”

You raised a brow, “Revenge?”

He seemed to have said something you weren’t supposed to know, but he dismissed it quickly, “It matters not. I was planning to kill the three of you anyway. It’s too bad you had to save the meddling one, but it shouldn’t be too hard to undo your wish.”

“You will not lay a single finger on them,” you warned, eyes beginning to blaze red. The Sahir noticed and shook his head once more, “I truly don’t understand what you want with them. Why are you doing this? Love? You’ve got more power than to care about something so human and weak.”

You didn’t miss the scorn in his tone. He seemed offended, hurt, and you couldn’t tell why. Why would a powerful Sahir have a personal grudge against...love?

Then you remembered his previous remarks. People of this age. It’s the whisper of corruption, bloodlust, hell. Like calls to like...

It seemed like a stray guess, but you blurted, “You’ve lost a lover, haven’t you?”

Hyunjin froze at your words, then his expression darkened as he spat, “I didn’t lose her, they took her from me! They killed her. But I’ve sought the Sahira’s Heart for too long. Nothing you can do will stop me, demon girl. I know all your tricks.”

Too long, his words echoed in your head, and various instances came rushing to you, forming one, big, clue. I know more than you could imagine.

A killed lover, magic, the Devil, and unsettling energy. The strange feeling you’ve had about him. His presence had always felt wrong, off.

Then it clicked.

The charm.

As though responding to your thoughts, a surge of cold magic rushed to your fingertips and you dared to meet the Sahir’s gaze. “You don’t know all my tricks.”

You thrust a hand forward and pulled the precious pendant to yourself. You didn’t know where that power came from, cold in comparison to the burning wrath of your Jinni, but it flowed through your blood with ease. As though it was yours, and you were always meant to have it.

The necklace moved at your will, and with a tug, it snapped from around Hyunjin’s neck and flew into your open hand.

This drew an immediate gasp from the Sahir, who wasted no time to shout, “Give it back!”

You examined the heavy pendant in your hand. It was made of glass, and a strand of hair was trapped inside. You shook your head in disbelief at the discovery. Hyunjin... Prince Hyunjin. The Lost Prince of Tajilmalek…

You looked back at him, “Two hundred years...”

“Return the pendant, or else I’ll have to retrieve it myself,” he threatened, but it didn’t faze you. “You, too, are doing this for love. You’ve been so for two long centuries.”

If the tales were true, then what you held encompassed the Sahir’s soul. It seemed to be, for he was adamant on having it back. You felt some sympathy for him. “You shouldn’t be alive.”

“Drop the pendant,” he enunciated, though his desperation was clawing its way through his words.

Two hundred years of nurturing his anger and despair, of living with the pain of loss. No, you felt great sympathy for him. “You should rest, now.”

“La—!” Hyunjin’s face morphed into an expression of horror and distress, but it was too late. You’d closed your fist on the pendant, and with newfound power, crushed it in your grasp.

A cry that shook the ground left the Sahir as he visibly crumbled before you, delicate features deepening into age worn wrinkles, an elegant figure declining to crookedness, until all what remained of him was a pile of rubble.

You mustered a weak smile, stepping toward the mass and dropping the broken pieces of the pendant over it. “May you find peace.”

Perhaps you should’ve felt some guilt for defeating the Sahir, but any guilt in your heart was not regarding him. You picked up the lamp that fell beside the rubble and shook it, calling, “Ya Marid!”

The Marid materialized before you. “Shubbaek Lubbaek.”

You didn’t spare a moment to plead, gesturing toward the dying prince, “You have to save him!”

“Apologies, for I only grant my master’s wishes.”

“Well, he is your master, and he is dying. If you don’t save him, the wishes will never be said, and you will never be freed!”

The Marid contemplated your words, but it didn’t take long for him to nod in approval, “Very well. You make an excellent plea.”

You assumed that meant the prince was saved, so you rushed to his side. The tinge of blood remained on your hands and you didn’t dare to touch him, resorting to examining his face and asking the Marid, “Is he okay now?”

“He is asleep, as is your friend. They must rest, so do you,” the Marid responded and you shook your head, “I cannot rest. Not now.”

How could you rest after what had happened?

The Marid seemed to think otherwise. He rose in the air, basking the cave in dim violet light. When he spoke, your eyelids began to droop dangerously. “Rest, troubled soul. No harm shall reach you.”

You wanted to argue, but your head felt heavy, and the doors of slumber were wide open for you to give in. A strange sense of peace washed over you, and you knew it was the Marid’s work. Too weak to fight it, you lowered your head to the ground, bloodied attire and limbs, and allowed yourself a short retirement from the chaos of your world. Just that once.

•؏•

You woke to the incessant scratch of metal against rock and low murmuring. You cracked an eye open to spot a figure sitting some distance away, fiddling with a sword. When you pushed yourself up, your muscles cried in excruciation. Only when you felt the stickiness of blood on your hands did you remember the happenings before your slumber. Finding the cave, searching for a magical lamp, fighting bandits, defeating Hyunjin, Minho almost—

“You’re up.”

His voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked up to meet his eyes, sighing in relief when you found him unharmed. A presence within you wasn’t as appreciative of the news. “You’re alive.”

“I am,” the prince looked away, and you didn’t have to follow his gaze to know that it was trailing over the dismembered, disfigured bodies of the victims of your blind rage. Your Jinni’s rage.

The word left your lips before you could process it, “Asifa. I-I lost control.”

“They wanted to kill us,” the prince shook his head, repulsed by the events of the past hours. It felt like a nightmare, from Jeongin’s fatal injury, to you ripping apart anyone within your range, to the sword that stabbed him through the chest, he was unsure how he remained alive. He remembered falling into your arms, and Hyunjin’s voice as he took the lamp from him, but that was all.

He was reluctant to know what happened to the Sahir, but he couldn’t find his body wherever he looked. “What happened to Hyunjin?”

You took moments to answer him, and he knew that was a story you didn’t want to tell. “He’s gone.”

Truth to be said, Minho was not appalled by your actions, for he knew that it wasn’t you. It was yet another day you’d saved him and his cousin with your powers. He couldn’t bring himself to show aversion to the decisions you had to make.

After all, there was no heart in war.

“Where’s Jeongin?” you asked when you noticed that the young royal wasn’t nearby. Minho responded almost immediately, “He went outside for a breath of fresh air.”

A breath of fresh air, of course. Why would anyone in their right mind stay in a cave that felt like death? You sighed, “You should return to the palace.”

“What?” the prince snapped his gaze toward you, both shocked and confused. You took a deep breath and shook your head in dismay, “After what happened, I think...I think it’s best for you and Jeongin to return to the palace.”

“We can’t do that...”

“You were almost killed, Minho!” you couldn’t help your outburst. “I can’t do this knowing that the two of you are in constant danger of death for the sake of breaking a curse.”

“What about you, then?” the prince argued, “You’re in constant danger too.”

“La. You and I are different. I can do this alone.”

“But— we’ve come this far together! We survived all those attacks and we even have the lamp with us!”

“I just don’t want this to happen again,” you gestured at your surroundings, and Minho was quick to assure you, “It won’t happen again.”

He picked up the lamp and placed it before you, holding your gaze firmly when you gave him a dubious look. “We have two wishes left. We finish this now. Together.”

“This is the closest I can take you to the Sahira’s Heart,” the Marid announced after the smoke surrounding the three of you cleared up. You found yourselves standing before an ancient temple, surrounded by the sea on all sides. “The temple is guarded by magic I cannot surpass.”

“Where are we?” Jeongin wondered out loud to be answered by the Marid, “You are on an island south of the Isle of the Damned known as Al Qa’a.”

“This is the place, then,” Minho let out a breath and turned to look at you, taking notice of your silence. His tone dropped many levels gentler. “Ready?”

You took in a breath. This was the place many have died to reach. This was where you would finally regain freedom from your curse. Truthfully, you didn’t know if you were ready. “I think so.”

“You have one wish remaining,” the Marid reminded before slipping back into the lamp Minho had looped through his sheath belt.

The three of you stood still, perhaps waiting, or preparing, to make the first step toward the end of this journey. The prince dared to move forward, but once he did, the ground rumbled and quaked, and you sensed the arrival of something dangerous.

From the sand, two magnificent Afarit emerged. They were unlike the ones you encountered in the palace. Their skin glistened grey, and they were fairly larger in size, but not too tough of a match.

The Darilmalekan royals unsheathed their swords instantly, and a plan had formed in Minho’s head as he examined the monsters. “We’ll hold them back. You slip past them and find the Sahira’s Heart.”

“But don’t you think I should help you instead—” your suggestion was interrupted by a shake of his head, “La. You have to find the Sahira’s Heart and break the curse, not me nor Jeongin. This is your part—”

A howl from one of the Afarit pierced your ears as it brought its axe down on the two of you. You were lucky to dodge the attack, but it was clear the Afarit were not planning to be patient with the three of you. You caught Minho’s shout above the commotion, “Go on! We’ll distract them!”

You knew that every second of hesitation was crucial time wasted, so you ran past the occupied Afarit toward the open doors of the temple. You dared to glance back one last time, finding your fiancé and his cousin true to their promise of holding the Afarit back. You wouldn’t let their efforts fall in vain.

With newfound will, you ran through the open doors into a dark corridor. You saw light on the other side, and you took off running toward it. Exhilaration mixed with hope and pinch of anxiety overwhelmed your mind. Will you find the Sahira’s Heart by the end of the corridor? The end to it all was terrifyingly close.

You reached a roofless clearing where the corridor led. It was empty, and moss had overrun its walls, but all you could see was the stone plinth, and the stone heart resting atop it.

Sounds of the fight outside drowned out as you stepped toward the artifact cautiously. This was the fabled Sahira’s Heart. This held all the corruption on the Isle. This held your family’s curse.

Finally.

You placed your palms on either side of the heart and lifted it, bracing yourself for whatever might happen in the following moments. You’d prepared to do it for countless hours, but breaking the Sahira’s Heart felt unreal when you stood there.

Shutting your thoughts out, you closed your eyes and focused on channeling all your power into the stone, just as you’d practiced under the gaze of the nonchalant moon. You forced it to flow through your fingertips and into the rock heart, then expand and push against the walls of the stone.

It seemed like forever until you heard the first crack, followed by a second and a third, and suddenly, your world exploded into blinding brilliance.

•؏•

Minho knew, he felt it in his heart, when white light exploded from the temple. You’d done it.

The Afarit halted, axes raised, and dropped to the ground lifelessly before disappearing into grains of sand. As though they’d never been there.

The prince sheathed his saif while attempting to calm his erratic breaths. Not too far, his cousin was doubled over a wound on his side, trying to tighten a piece of his attire over it. Minho called over to him, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” came his response. “We should go see y/n!”

And so, the two walked up to the temple and through its long corridor to reach the sunlit chamber, where they found you lying on the ground. Still. Pieces of broken stone lay scattered around you.

Panic rose in Minho’s heart, but it was quickly erased when he noticed the steady rise and fall of your chest. You were alive.

He came to sit beside you, smiling to himself as he murmured, “You’ve done it, Amirati. You really did.”

Jeongin rested a hand on his cousin’s shoulder, “Let’s go home.”

“Right.” Minho reached for the lamp, patting it and watching as the purple smoke swirled in the air to form the Marid’s body. “Shubbaek Lubbaek. Are you ready to make your last wish?”

The prince smiled, “Yes. Take us to the Darilmalekan palace...and let everyone there but us forget we were ever gone.”

“Is that your wish?”

He did not hesitate. “Na’am.”

The Marid bowed his head, and with a wave of his hands, the three of you were engulfed in the same purple smoke. “Your wish is my command.”

After.

“Big day today, eh?” Jeongin stepped up from behind his cousin, who gave him a small grin, “It sure is.”

It was a big day, indeed, for it was the day your caravan from Tallilmalek arrives, after two long months of absence.

When the Marid transported the three of you into the royal garden, you quickly parted ways. With the curse broken, you had to return to Tallilmalek along with your brother. Royals, nobles, and palace staff were confused about your sudden departure, but a scroll from the Tallilmalekan palace was enough justification.

While you were gone, you made sure to keep Minho updated on your state of wellbeing. It was an obligation neither asserted, but both of you committed to. The journey had undoubtedly brought you closer, and being finally free, you thought you must make up for the lost time.

Healing and learning to live without the curse was tough, as you’d written to the prince. Old habits were hard to kill, especially when they’d been the basis of life for your family for decades. But you were getting there, a small step at a time.

Two months later, the Tallilmalekan royal family sent a messenger carrying news that brought life to the palace once more. You were ready to carry on with the wedding.

It was a big day. The kind that made Minho’s heart flutter in excitement and dance in joy. It felt like a Deja Vu, standing in the throne room to welcome you to Darilmalek. Only this time, your arrival carried true promises to be kept.

“Still haughty as ever,” Jeongin commented once the Tallilmalekan King stepped in, followed by you and your brother. Minho rolled his eyes in response, masking a smile, “Shut up.”

Jeongin might’ve been right, your family loved to display their riches, but it wasn’t the jewelry nor the pearls that shone with your entrance. It was the little smile adorning your lips. As gentle as the night breeze, but as breathtaking as a starry sky.

When you came to stand before him, offering your hand, that smile grew, ever so faintly. And that was enough for the prince, who mirrored your expression, only many times brighter. “Welcome back, Amirati.”

•؏•

People do strange things for love...

You stared at your journal, unsure of what to conclude with, when a voice came from behind. “Thought I’d find you here.”

“Minho,” you shut your journal carefully, turning your head to watch as he stepped toward the balustrade, “what are you doing here, up this late?”

“The same question goes to you,” his lips stretched into a soft smile when you came to stand beside him. It was the only time you’d had for yourself that day. Preparations for the wedding were consuming every moment of daylight, from the very second you woke until the blanket of night covered the land. You were lucky to be able to enjoy one last night in the palace garden before the ceremony. “I’m finishing my journal.”

Minho hummed in acknowledgement. You were documenting your journey to the Sahira’s Heart, and all that came after. It was a very confidential journal, as you’d told him, and the prince had long given up on trying to have a peek at it.

A gentle breeze blew past the two of you, complementing the tranquility of the night. A few moments of peace prompted you to speak, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Right,” the prince exhaled quietly as though preparing himself for a speech or an important event of such sort. He turned to face you fully, and only then did you notice the small golden box in his hands. Under the timid shine of the moon, he appeared almost shy. “I have something for you.”

When you gave him a curious look, he placed the case on the balustrade and opened it, clearing his throat, “I know our beginning wasn’t exactly...ideal, and for the longest time, uncontrollable circumstances stood between us.”

“But tomorrow,” he met your gaze, “things...change.”

Your gaze followed his movements attentively, every anxious bite of his lip and fidgety gesture of his hand. A quiet part of you wanted to ease his nervousness, but you were yet to learn how. All you could do was give him an encouraging smile.

But your smile did wonders, as Minho had come to discover, and a bigger smile found home on his lips in turn. The thin thread between nervousness and excitement snapped, and he dared to present to you a gift he’d longed to give. “I just wanted you to know this before our wedding...”

He held a delicate diadem made of gracefully laced strands of gold encircling dainty pearls. Even in the dark of night, its beauty glowed. It brought the stars above to shame.

Your gaze was fixed on him when he placed the circlet on your head and smiled to himself. La, you thought it was his beauty that brought the stars to shame. There, in that fleeting moment, you spotted the gleam of pure joy and adoration in his eyes. It was the most stunning thing you’d ever seen.

His hands found yours, and with a gentle squeeze, he spoke his promise for the heavens above to hear. “No matter how long it takes you to adjust to this life, I’ll wait for you, my queen. Always.”

People did strange things for love, though I can’t blame them.

In the end, it proved to be worth it.

Al Amira y/n of Tallilmalek.

If you have read this far then you are contractually obligated to tell me your thoughts! Well, not really, but do drop by sometime! Thank you for reading and I hope you have a lovely day! ♡

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