#when i reference a damn image i have to study it i have to draw it and try again and again and learn from it. when you use ai you fucking

[aromanticannibal]

ok but i dont care about the japanese lady that ai generated pictures of her cat. trying to gotcha ppl by saying "oh so the old lady who wanted pictures of her cat is a thief and should die then?" i literally have never gave a fucking shit. you are taking people's hard work and making an image with it in seconds and pretending it's worth as much. fuck you

[inkiedraws]

just discovered your blog couple of days ago AND IM IN SHOOK i havent in my life seen such gut wrenchingly amazing anatomy my jaw is on the ground LIKE REALLY your doffy is my EVERYTHING DAMN idk if you shared it somewhere but can i ask you to wield us the secret knowledge of what resources you mostly used for studying anatomy?? cause im really curious your stuff is literally gold omfg

Thank you so much! There's way better anatomy artists out there but i'm happy that people like what i'm doing!

And hmm that's a question with several answers so i'm just gonna give a list on what helped me the most!

Also i'm just a hobby artist so keep that in mind when reading! I have no idea what professionals do lmao.

1: Don't be afraid to find you own way of learning! Everyone process information differently and if you feel a certain way helps you learn then use it!

2: Don't just look at people with defined muscles! Look at people with very different body shapes and sizes. Human anatomy for artists is a site i often use! (lots of tasteful nudity in the link, be aware)

3: Practice your muscle memory as much as your sight! By tracing anatomy, you'll be able to feel what is actually going on in the image!

This is a big one because i recently discovered that i'm the kind of person that learns by feeling the movement of what i'm looking at.

Now i'm able to pick up on little details that i otherwise wouldn't have seen! And i (usually) get my drawings right immediately, without needing to do this before. :)

If you ever struggle pin-pointing what is wrong with your drawing, try this out and see if it works! Hopefully you'll go "AH so that's how it's supposed to look like."

4: Look at videos and photos of people wrestling and MMA fighting (or any other marial arts. Great way of learning how physics work. And dancers too!!

5: Pay attention to how skin reacts! By that i mean do weird movements in the mirror and see how your skin moves and stretches.

6: When using a reference make sure it's right beside your canvas. Then dart your eyes quickly back and forth and see what part of your drawing looks different from what you're looking at!

7. No matter how much you think "I understand how this muscle work now" there will always be at least one photo of a person that makes you go "What??" because muscles are fucked up and can look way differently in certain angles.

8: If you can't find a good reference take a photo of yourself in the mirror. It doesn't matter if you don't look like the character you're drawing, as long as it gives you some idea how it should look, it's fine!

There's way more but these are the main things i keep in mind when drawing anatomy!

[exonerin]

19

Okay, 19 is pretty cool. Let me give you some background first. When I graduated high school, I spent two years training to be an officer on cruise/freight ships.

I quit doing that to study (plasma) physics instead. But it means I have some knowledge on SAR (search and rescue). And since I loved it, I've been keeping up watching videos (and I know that that is a far cry from any qualifications, but I suppose I can't be stopped).

And I wanted to write a fic about the search and rescue thing so badly. Incidentally, this is the only modern Obikin AU I have written so far.

Here's the synopsis:

"Dear Mister Kenobi, you are my last hope. I did not kill my mother. She's out there. You're the only one who can find her."

Obi-Wan was no stranger to the family of victims contacting him, desperate for his help to find their missing loved ones. Something about the case of Shmi Skywalker stands out to him.

Maybe it's the images of the young man crying in a small court room, pleading his innocence, begging law enforcement to continue searching. Those images and clips plastered over the internet and newspapers. They haunt him.

Anakin Skywalker haunts him.

And if only a fool would search every damned lake around Naboo, then Obi-Wan fears he's guilty as charged.

Here's an opening snippet (and please bear in mind that this is not edited and just a wip):

"They moved here from Utah. Think middle of the desert, small town, he abuses her and she escapes with her son," Quinlan said, his voice pitched to engage an audience. He would draw them in with short sentences, creating a sense of urgency.

"Picture this; they need a place to go. And she has relatives in Oregon. Seems good, right? Well, she is convinced her partner knows where she is. They relocate numerous time. Then, they end up in Naboo. A small, peaceful village surrounded by forests, sprawling nature. She's convinced this is the place where he will never find her. A year later, she disappears."

Obi-Wan had read the newspapers and watched the podcasts. He could dream the headlines and bold claims.

Shmi Skywalker still missing, police scale down search efforts.

Nine-thousand culmative search hours yield nothing in search for single mother

Lake County swallows another victim. Will the body ever be found?

Accident or murder? The odd missing case of Shmi Skywalker

Foul play suspected. Son A. Skywalker (19) arrested.

Fruitless search yields no body.

A. Skywalker released due to lack of evidence.

The world had already spun a tale, a dreadfully tragic one in which Anakin had murdered his mother over cash and driven her and her car in one of the lakes around Naboo.

"Now, you must understand, this case is new. Very new. But we were requested to help by family."

Obi-Wan's hands balled into fists, though he kept his expression placid as Quinlan refered to the request. One letter addressed to him that he had inadvertently memorized.

Dear Mister Kenobi, you are my last hope. I did not kill my mother. She's out there. You're the only one who can find her.

Finally, Quinlan wound down his speech.

"That's it," he said, and Ventress nodded before cutting the recording. Finally, Obi-Wan pushed away from their van, joining the duo by the picnic table Quinlan had selected as the throne for his regaling.

==============

I know where I want to take it and what I want to write. Furthermore, it wouldn't be a big fic, so it would be relatively low effort. But I haven't found the time to sit down and write it yet because I'm working on so many other projects. Maybe next year. (This here is the reason I never get anything done!)

[maleficore]

How many references of the same damn character can I make before I get bored?

Yes.

Some design and related rambles below because I'm in A Mood

There's uhh, selfharm mentions in there on top of the typical Durge shit. Just in case anyone needs a heads up.

I keep tweaking his design every time I draw him, but I think I'm decently happy with it now? It's mainly the burn scar that has been annoying me because I both want it to unique but still somewhat fit the game texture..

I wish I knew how to mess with texture maps to make him custom ones so that all the scars in game match The Lore, but ughh learning that is way too much work.

The scar run down so far:

THE BURN SCAR is a souvenir from Cania. It covers almost the entire upper left half of his body, but on his arm it ends abruptly at the elbow because the explosion that caused it took off his whole forearm so the limb is "brand new" and therefore, scarless.

Yes, he can regrow limbs like an axolotl. However here, I think healing magic was involved too. Just because of how extensive the damage was. I'm imagining his forearm blown off and what's left of his arm charred nearly to the bone. Same with his face, his cheek was definitely gone. An absolutely terrifying image and one that's for sure seared into Gortash's brain forever.

THE VIVISECTION SCAR is Kressa's work of course, but its shape is pretty atypical for how most of the fandom does Durge's scars. The arms of the Y incision don't extend towards his shoulders and go underneath his pectorals instead. It's mostly because his organs have fuck all to do with the tadpole Kressa was studying so I headcanon those experiments to have been done purely for sexual gratification, not scientific at all. Which makes cracking open his ribcage feel like too much of a hassle to me, she can still get in there for a rummage through his stomach after all.

THE SMALL STOMACH AND CHEST SCARS are all stab wounds. I like to think they would've healed fully long ago, but Ezra subconsciously keeps that from happening because they're like mementos to him. It was... a religious/masochism thing between him and Helena. A tad messed up, but he liked her a lot okay.

THE THIGH SCARS are self inflicted. Some are cuts, some poor, frenzied attempts at flaying the skin off to maximise the pain. They start to fade and heal post tadpole because he forgot about the habit thanks to the orinbotomy, but he used to pretty much selfharm his emotions away. Sad? Pain. Affectionate? Pain. Guilty? Nothing some more pain can't fix! It started in his youth when selfharm was his only way to get some clarity of mind when the Urge started to muddy his thoughts and it escalated from there to using it for everything.

THE HAND SCAR is also of the self inflicted kind, but that one is really old. He was around 12 when he stabbed his hand out of fear that if he didn't use the knife he was given to hurt himself, he was going to cause harm to someone else. It was pretty soon after killing his foster parents so the panic was understandable, got him banned from the kitchen for years tho. The scar never faded completely because he was really weak and sickly as a kid due to not feeding the Urge, which messed with his healing abilities (amongst other things) making it stick.

THE HEART SCAR is an another old one. It's from the wound he was killed with when he transformed into the Slayer for the first time. It's symbolic and one of those scars that don't heal because he doesn't want them to. It marks the death of the person he was before Bhaal and serves as a reminder of that whole event. The paladin who killed him (a close friend and mentor actually so that's fun) ran him straight through with a sword so there's a matching scar on his back too.

Those have all pretty much always been there and the only change is the lore of the stab wound scars, though. I just felt like talking about them because I like giving those things A Story.

And since I'm already babbling, I also added some stuff!

He didn't use to have his nails painted post nautiloid, but I had the bright idea of Shadowheart seeing the remnants of chipped off nail polish and because of that offering to do them for him at some point. Probably not until act 3 when they finally reach civilization, but still!

I once mentioned in passing that he collects rings and never implemented that into his design, but here it is now! It's mostly a case of him feeling like he should wear a ring out of habit and ending up going a bit ham with it.

Old wedding band mark :) only sticks around for a bit post nautiloid and eventually disappears, but I still included it anyway for the angst. You understand.

One day I'll do a proper colour reference and decent art of his clothing to go with it, but this will do for now. I just love him so much, he can fit so much lore on him and it's driving me a bit crazy. My beloved hairy bastard man.

[theniftycat]

huh

so, for years I thought I was dyslexic.

the thing is that I read slowly and written texts are just hard to deal with

today I was thinking again about how I find Chinese easy as a spoken language, but very hard as a written one. last year I studied it for 6 months and I can remember spoken phrases and pronounciation, but I could write from memory maybe two hieroglyphs.

and then I thought about how I don’t have a very good facial memory and can only draw from references

apparently, poor visual processing ability and dyslexia are two different things

my spelling is mostly fine, but I make very silly mistakes sometimes

I also remember words not completely, but like “four letters, the first letter is w”

I can memorise stuff phonetically just fine

if I read text aloud, it’s easier for me to understand

an article about differences between dyslexia and bad visual processing said that the latter have troubles with distinguishing between “rn” and “m“ or with letters that are only slightly visually different or with mirrored letters. I thought everyone did that!

I have decent vision, it’s not perfect, but I don’t need glasses.

at my last job, I had to give feedback to artists on their works, but it was very hard for me as I missed details and couldn’t process the image completely under pressure.

I can play hidden object games though. maybe because looking for details is easier.

another language I had trouble with learning was German as some words are too damn long! I’m good at languages generally. I also have troubles with remembering French accents, so my French is forever mediocre.

maybe I’m not dyslexic. I always pronounced words correctly, even as a child. my brother, otoh, made a massacre out of words, I was his translator because nobody but me could understand that “akikala” is motorcycle.

I learned letters early, but I really started reading fiction on my own at about 10 yo. before that, I only read encyclopedias and textbooks.

I find comics exhausting and I was confused when people said that dyslexics love comicbooks. I can only read them outloud.

I don’t read normal books outloud, but I hardly read books anymore anyway

so, uh, that’s a thing

this entire text was written with my inner voice saying each word. I always dictate things inwardly as I write

[thethermocline]

The thing about learning art is you can't just...copy. References are amazing, I mean. A must-have. They will greatly enrich your art. But you ought to learn the fundamentals. You should, actually, know human anatomy and how to map it from scratch and put it in poses and keep proportions consistent at different angles. And generally speaking you will learn that from art class; and if you are like me and do not have art class, you learn it from books.

All of this just to complain; art books can be so alienating to women.* There's invaluable advice in there, but god, sometimes I get so tired.

The author will address the reader directly; he will discuss "you men" and what you'll experience in the art world. That a woman might also be an artist seems never to have crossed his mind.

The male figure will be taught first. It is the standard, the default. The female figure will show up second. Sometimes explicit comment will be made about how the female is like the male, but deviated in this way or that way. As if she is a knock-off man. Both figures are nude; you are learning to draw proportions. This is how this works. But she is in heels.

In my experience it is difficult - by no means impossible, but difficult - for the beginner artist to find drawing reference of a woman NOT in heels. It gets easier later, when you know where to go. But I remember being especially frustrated with this when i was younger. Now as i study this book, I have to fix the female proportions slightly to flatten her feet.

There are a few different male proportions shown in this book. Only one type of female body is demonstrated.

There are drawings in the book, of the woman naked in bed. There are many such images. The man gets to be naked in action, or in all sorts of interesting poses. The woman is also in many poses. But she is the only one naked in bed. (Over and over and-- I guess the author knew what he liked to draw.)

I can't help but remember at this point that the author did not make this book for a female audience.

I will learn from it anyway. There is a lot in here that is very useful and applicable to my art. But I get tired sometimes.

*blah blah blah, not EVERY art book by any means, but damn if it isn't plenty of them

[thetreetopinn]

I'll say what I've said in the past.

AI art can be a fabulous tool... when used properly.

Like say as a reference or guide when you want to draw something yourself.

AI art can be great for generating a pose or composing a layout. It can be HELPFUL when it's used right.

The problem comes when you put in some prompts to get the exact thing you want, then post that thing online as though you actually created it. You didn't. You fed some words to an image generator and it spat out some results that somehow fit that criteria. It doesn't "learn" the way you or I learn. It doesn't understand or have any degree of sentience. It doesn't practice to get better.

People feed these image generators artwork stolen by artists--taken without their permission IS actually art theft--so that the image generator will start to produce images in that artist's style. This isn't the same as an artist studying someone's work to try and learn their style, then put their own spin on it. It's just straight up theft.

And once the image generator has a large enough database, it can just perfectly recreate that person's style with enough fidelity that someone who might commission that artist suddenly doesn't feel the need to support them anymore. The magic art box can give them exactly what they want.

Right up until they find a new artist whose style they want to steal.

These machine learning algorithms can be really damn useful--like actually doing the complex, tedious work that would take humans endless hours to complete, like researching protein folding--so there IS a VALID use for the technology.

Unfortunately, technology rarely ever only stays in the bounds of moral and ethical use.

This is why STEAM is more important than STEM.

You cannot have the science, technology, engineering, and math WITHOUT the arts.

This is the culmination of cutting the arts and humanities out of school in favor of the "we need school to stick to just making good little worker bees" philosophy.

These algorithms were made by people who didn't have any requirement to LEARN ABOUT art in school, or learn about philosophy and other similar disciplines.

This is where pure STEM under capitalism leads.

"How can we use science to make money?"

That's all it is.

LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK

[miahmethyst]

✨ 12 things I learned about Inktober ✨

Ok. I know, Inktober is already ended, and you'll be bored reading this post because it's way too long. I totally get it. But I really appreciate it if you read this whole thing. I worked so damn hard to make this thing. And a little disclaimer, this is just based on my personal experience.

Inktober is all about ink, literally. It's a 31-day drawing challenge, where you have to draw with ink for 31 days every October. Besides ink, you can work with other mediums and colors too, apart from black and white. Also, you can make inktober digitally, like some artists do. There are no rules for participating in Inktober, except sharing 31 artworks online.

I've been doing Inktober since 2019. It's my fourth time joining this art challenge, except in 2022. It was quite difficult to start without planning or any knowledge of using ink at all. I wasn't used to drawing with pens until I started to do more studies and sketches using them. It's better to look at more artwork from other artists for inspiration, as well as to get ideas and use them as references. I wouldn't say "copy" it. I'd been experiencing art blocks, burnouts, and stress. But in the end, it really paid off.

It's time to share my 12 things I learned about Inktober:

📝 Make a plan ahead

Make a plan at least a month in advance. This is life-changing, at least for me. I write down all my plans in my notebook, such as goals, preparations, art materials to use, etc. I wish I knew it sooner when I started Inktober four years ago 🥲.

✒️ Practice inking

An ordinary writing pen will do if I don't have any drawing pens or ink to use for practice. It's quite hard using it at first because I can't erase it if I made mistakes. I tried to get used to drawing with pens. Also I started to practice strokes and hatchings, as well as sketching directly on a sketchbook.

🖥️ Gather references from the internet

Google Images and Pinterest are two of the best sites to find references. Some people are encouraging artists to NOT use references, which is WRONG. Do not listen to these dorks. It literally helps to sketch out ideas. You can make your own references, too.

🖼️ Get inspirations from other artist

To get me inspired, I take a look at the best artworks made by incredible artists. I saved them for later and took them as inspiration.

💡 Sketch out ideas and make thumbnails

This is essential! Before doing ink drawings, I first sketch out ideas gathered from references as many as I could. Thumbnail sketching is a great tool too. It's where I plan out my composition before making the final artwork. I can't explain it enough. My brain has reached its limits.. lels..

🧪 Experiment with other mediums

Apart from ink, since I don't have enough ink and pens I could use for Inktober, I tried to play with other mediums, like watercolor, colored pens, poster paints, etc. Just keep experimenting and having fun with them.

⚠️ Take risks

One of my favorite things to do is to push myself to take risks. Don't play safe. I tried to step out of my comfort zone and draw something that I hadn't drawn before or use mediums that I hadn't used before.

One example here is ink washes on my sketchbook, which is supposed for dry media only because the paper is thin. I took my risk to do ink washes. I put a lot of water in it and layered it up multiple times. It turned out great. I was expecting that the paper would be ripped off, but it didn't, "almost".

🖌️ Let it go from mistakes. These are "happy little accidents"

Does this quote above ring a bell? If you know, you know. Every time I do art, I don't expect "perfection". Almost of my artworks are filled with imperfections. If I make mistakes with my artwork, I'll just leave it there. I'd set my expections down all the way to the void. Who needs to make art "perfect"? Mistakes aren't as bad as they sound.

🛌 Take breaks if I need to (LITERALLY I NEED IT!!)

While doing inktober, I'd been encountering burnouts, art blocks, and stress. I'd been doing these "repetitive" tasks everyday. When I feel grumpy, I take a break for an hour or more. Sometimes, I take a nap, or do things other than art. And then I proceed to do it right after breaks.

💯 Ignore algorithms and engagements

I have high hopes that my artworks will get noticed. Always. This is the most challenging one if you're trying to grow your social media accounts, especially if you have a small number of followers (less than 1,000). Since algorithms are changing anytime, especially on Instagram, chances are not getting more reach. I found this way more annoying; no matter how hard I tried to get more attention in my art, it always ended up reaching fewer people.

I'd been uploading my inktober drawing process videos for 31 consecutive days on Instagram and TikTok. They said, post more reels to reach more accounts than just posting a photo or carousels, as well as using "trending" audios. I'd been filming the process, editing, and uploading it to my social media every day for 31 days. 31. FREAKIN'. DAYS. And it's always never been easy. Ever! THIS IS BULLSHIT! INDEED!

On the bright side, despite my issues on growth, someone is still barely seeing and interacting with my art, which I'm really grateful for. Somehow, I've been getting some likes, comments, shares and follows. I guess that's how social media works. It only sees specific people, and that's okay. It would take ages to grow my accounts.

👩‍🎨 Interact with other artists

There are so many incredible artists everywhere on social media. So, I tried my best to interact with other artists -- just give a like to their art, comment (I'm getting used to it), share and follow.

❤️ Have fun!

The importantest shit of all is to have fun. Inktober is an art challenge, not a contest. This is why you shouldn't take this seriously. Forget all the doubts in our minds. Just to have fun. That's it. Finished your Inktober? Don't forget to treat yourself.

So, yeah. If you reached down all the way to the void, thanks for reading this. I've never writing this stuff before, and it's freakin' hard as hell, not to mention having a mental block. it took over a week to come up with these words, but I made it to the end 🥹.

I want to express my gratitude for those who supporting me and appreciating my art, as always ✨❤️. y'all the best!

[hopefulcanary]

Do you have any drawing tips for semi-beginners hoping to improve drawing people? 🙏

Draw at least once a day, even if you don't feel like it. Artistic skill is 5% raw talent and 95% stubborn af bull-headed "fuck you I'm mad that I can't draw a 3/4 head so I am gonna draw it a hundred times until I get it right"

Do drawing warmups– straight lines from the shoulder, spirals and circles and cubes, things that get your muscles, well, warmed up. Even if this is all you can draw that day, you're still gaining fine motor control.

Copy from old school masters. I literally, 100% do mean "sit your butt down and freehand a copy of whatever famous painting/sculpture/piece you're gaga for". Critically analyze how these artists drew the human form. Why do you enjoy these artists' works? What would you like to learn from them? I'm not a great colorist, so I enjoy studying how other artists utilize light and color.

Listen to Jack Kirby's advice:

Use references. All the time. Every damn day. Download stock photos that look cool and try drawing them. Take photos of yourself, your friends and fam and draw them. Feel weird because smug little assholes cry that "that's cheating", or folks make fancy jpgs of how you have to change a certain percent of the pose/hair/face/the way the shirt is flowing on your friend's body because exact life-drawing studies are "copying" now??? References are how artists work successfully and grow as artists. So you know, fuck them.

"Stock photo [person] [action]" is a life saver for finding poses to practice on

Use grids if you need to. Our predecessors did. Hell, they used crazy things like the camera obscura to make the perspective of their paintings correct. Programs like Procreate literally have grid guides to help.

Just completely stuck on a body part and frustrated that you can't get it to look right? Trace it. You have my permission. Trace it to get the form right, then try free-handing it again. You'll probably nail it. MAGIC. This is not "cheating".

(Don't trace stuff and pass it off as yours/use it for final pieces* unless your style is literally rotoscoping, a perfectly valid art form. Like, know your work and take pride in it.)

Related to that, don't feel married to a particular "style". Learn the basic foundations, then Experiment. Do those "draw my character in [X] style" memes. Flexibility will help you be kinder to yourself. Push your limits.

Redraw old work, so you can see how much you've improved.

Everything about a person can be broken down into basic shapes. Don't feel like you have to draw all the body contours perfectly the first time, and don't feel married to your first drafts. Revise, revise, revise.

Be kind to yourself. Seriously. Allow yourself to be patient with yourself. Adults in particular are so hard on themselves when it comes to drawing, when we don't need to be.

*On the topic of tracing:

Want to know where you CAN trace all the live long day? Your own work. "What?" Yes. Good god, yes. Light boxes exist in meat space for a reason! Layers in digital programs exist for a reason! So you doodled two different pics of Bucky Barnes and you love his face on one but hate it on another? C&P that sucker over or draw off that. Make a new layer above the mess. Finesse the Winter Soldier into complying cuz he's an obedient boy. It's your vision, go HAM.

On the subject of "Originality":

Andrew Loomis' Figure Drawing For All It's Worth is a solid read that goes into the specifics of how to draw people, going into anatomy and breaking down bodies and faces into shapes and lines. Part of my improvement came when I stopped stressing out about the whole image (at least at first) and took things section by section.

It might seem a little dense and intimidating at first, but it's so much better than a lot of the "how to draw" stuff on the market today.

This is also dense af but I hope it helps!

[pokenimagines]

Hey there! I'm glad to see the Inbox is finally open Could I request for some NSFW Mina Headcannons where she accidentally shows the reader her not so innocent drawings and the she shyly shows them off to said reader and she is really flustered during it and stumbles alot when she explains the images

I love mina alot and I was really happy to see that you said your willing to do NSFW stuff for her

Discord (16+) - Request Information 

Warning: This is NSFW so if you’re under the legal age or uncomfortable with content like this, please skip over this one!

NSFW Mina: The Sketchbook

“Hey babes, whatcha working on today.” You popped a chocolate Oran berry into your mouth as you walk up to your girlfriend. Mina paused for a moment before gently closing her sketchbook and looking up at you with a lazy smile.

“Ah, hello. I was just doing some sketches.” She explained and noticed the bowl you had of different chocolate covered berries, “Can I have some?”

“Of course, brought them for us to enjoy anyway.” You said while putting the bowl down. You looked over at the deep red sketchbook now sitting next to her. You knew she normally didn’t work in a sketchbook that looked like that, so it caught you off guard. You would’ve chalked it up to how she must’ve just purchased the book, but it looked well worn and the pages were halfway full of different sketches.

“Never seen you drawing in that.” You commented as you watched Mina freeze mid-bite. She turned a light shade of pink as she turned to you.

“It’s my at-home sketchbook.” She tried to explain but her reaction was suspicious. You leaned closer, putting a hand on her thigh while you got closer.

“That’s a total lie. I’ve stayed here so many times and never before have I seen that…Mina?” You weren’t going to push her to confess to what was in it, but you had an inkling.

“I uh…you see.” Her apathetic voice took on a nervous edge while she looked away with a frown, “It’s my more…adult drawings.”

“I didn’t know you drew spicy things. Do you feel comfortable letting me see?” Your heart was leaping out of your chest. You absolutely adored seeing everything Mina had drawn, and to know there’s an entire sketchbook waiting to be discovered.

Mina paused for a moment, trying to figure out if she was okay. Finally she sighed and nodded, “Alright, but you can’t judge me on anything.”

“I would never.” You said while putting a hand over your heart and making it more dramatic than necessary. This caused Mina to smile and her shoulders dropped a bit as she got more comfortable. She pulled over her book and put it on her lap, looking over at you.

She opened the first page and you paused. You knew she was amazing but you didn’t know she knew how to draw anatomy so well. It looked to be a bunch of warm up sketches of both naked men and women, surly it was an art study of some kind. As she began flipping it got more scandalous, the images getting more detailed.

One of the pictures had a woman with her legs spread open and you looked at Mina wondering what she looked at for reference.

“Damn, these are amazing.” You said in absolute wonder. She flipped to another page then quickly tried to skip over it. You place a hand over hers and turned it back. “Is that me?”

“Ah you see I-…” she tried explaining but you pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Thanks for drawing me so well, babe. So…bondage?” You asked as the image clearly had you tied up with a ball gag.

“I…thought it would be fun…one day.” Mina admitted and you beamed.

“Man I’d love to try it. Maybe we can order some things online sometime and do some research?” You’d never turn down intimate times with Mina.

“Really? You’d be okay with it?” She asked.

“Only if you let me tie you up later as well.”

[max-cortez]

If the aroma from the meal he'd prepared hadn't of filled the kitchen, her question would have been answered in another room and every layer of clothing between them would have been shed along the way. A breath bobbed in his throat and a low, raspy hum of laughter rumbled from within. "Soon," he assured in a barely audible tone that carried the weight of the thinking he couldn't avoid.

Her mouth, her hands, her everything. One lifetime wasn't going to be enough, but he be damned if he missed another second of time. Slowly, and against every colorful image painted beneath his lids, he captured her sharp features as a short distance was placed between them. Far enough to see her clearly, but close enough that one lazy dip downwards would be all it took to capture her mouth once more.

The professor had taught him more in months than he'd learned his whole life. Even on the nights where the woman sat perched in her home office in one of his worn out shirts, he was learning. He'd come to love the way her brows furrowed as she scanned over papers, or the way her hazel hues seemed to glimmer with life when she read a book. In one woman, he'd found the world.

"Nothing wrong with that." He'd stumbled onto a path of thought himself, on that had led him to the point of the conversation at hand. For as long as he could remember, art had been his safe place. As a child, he'd watched his father create with the intention of making something of himself, but what the man had thought him was that creating for oneself was the most rewarding kind of art.

Over the years, he'd put his life into it. Some pieces happy, some pieces sad, and others not quite settling on any one emotion, but a range of them. Their loss, the pain of it all, had both left a void within him, all while sparking something new. Something that no one could ever take away from either of them.

Fatherhood had been a foreign concept until the parking lot of the cafe. How one hell of a night had led them to her kitchen, their kitchen, he'd never quite grasp. Luck had never been on his side and beyond the wicked twist of their story, he felt like one of the luckiest people alive.

His grip tightened at waist and his heart hammered a few beats quicker. "Stars," he hummed, emotion caught in his throat. Too many nights to count had spent under them and more than once, he'd heard the brunette refer to their child as Little Star. It wasn't much of an idea, but the concept itself had been rooted deep in his mind since the moment it had settled there. "I know it's not as magical as you were probably thinking it would be, but I think that... I know that I want to do something with the stars."

He studied the woman intently, his gaze slightly blurring. He'd never considered being a father and yet, as he dared to drop his view for no more than a few seconds, he knew that his life had meant little before this moment.

The tattoo artist leaned forward, his forehead grazing hers as eyes fluttered closed. He didn't need to see her to know that a smile hung off her mouth. It was in the pitch of her voice and too many times he'd watched as she beamed it back at him and spoke one word or another. "I promise. If I ever leave this town, you're coming with me. You both are," he assured, lips brushing against hers before another firm kiss was placed on her mouth.

With the little space between them once more, he scanned over her features and heaved a playful sigh. "If you want, i could try. You're the professor here though. I'm not sure I could do those details justice. I'm more of a show it kind of guy." He could tell an entire story with art, but words? That was the department he struggled with at times. "Want me to draw you a picture instead?"

Hands slid from her waist and fell to the dip of her back, fingers clasping together there as he dared to take a step closer. It was impossible to get close enough, but he lingered with a boyish grin hanging off his mouth. "It'll be alright. You have other plans in mind?" He nipped at his bottom lip, but as the question rolled off his tongue, he dipped lower once more and captured her mouth with his own.

@cheyohara

"Mm," the brunette hummed into the second, longer caress of his mouth against her own. The sound vibrated into the heated exchange and her lids were heavy with desire when Max had inevitably broken and pulled away from their kiss. "Well, when are you going to feed me," she teased, not entirely sure she was speaking on the meal he'd just made.

With his hands settled on her waist, Chey's arms reached up and her hands gently locked together at the nape of his neck. The heat of their bodies scorched into each other as desire pooled low in her belly. It wasn't just hormones changing or going haywire, she'd found it difficult to keep her touch from Max since the moment they'd breached that barrier.

"You know I can't help myself." A childhood full of endless torment produced a grown woman who overthought every little thing at least three times. It was habit now. But, at the same time, she wanted to hear every little thought that passed through his creative mind. There was none other like him, the artist brazenly himself in a world of everyone trying so hard to fit in.

They felt the same about art and he been slowly showing each other the products of their souls. Art was forever. Art was timeless.

"I wanna hear about it," Chey encouraged, "I'll bet it's something magical."

To her, that's what the rough around the edges man was. Their meeting, just one night, had changed the course of hers forever. Max had made such a huge impact in less than a year's time. She was in awe of him, every little thing he did, and how he fearlessly put his heart into things.

Not only that, he also put life into her. The little star they'd lost and the current growing within was proof of that. Now, she wasn't sure how she'd ever live a life without him. Everything had happened so naturally, easily, without conversation or a plan. They connected, bonded and healed through loss, he moved in, another chance had been granted to them, and now he was hers.

This was how it was always supposed to be, and it made her sometimes think back to dating and trying to find someone. Truly, by the time Max had entered her life she'd just given up on trying to find someone.

Magic was at play in this life.

"You promise you'll never ever go anywhere?" They began to sway and a smile crept onto her lips once again. It was a challenge to keep one off at this point in his presence. "Or, if you do, you'll take me with you?"

Even though he was saying the supportive things to make her feel less in missing out on her favorite things, she shook her brunette head at him. "Aren't you supposed to be taking it on for the two of us now?" Of course she knew that wasn't how it worked, nor did she expect it. "You could always enjoy and let me watch— describe in detail how good it tastes..."

The kisses were always too short, even the longer more intense ones. Chey had kissed him back and then shook her head. "I wanna eat with you, but... it can hang out on the stove for a little while, can't it?" / @max-cortez

[chaninfused]

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!

١

"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.”

٢

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.”

٣

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.

٤

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.

٥

“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!”

٦

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.”

٧

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.

٨

“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.”

٩

“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! ♡

[melhive]

4, 14, 16? for the artist ask thingy :)

Excellent choices my dear Radish ♥

4. Fav character/subject that’s a bitch to draw

What even is going on in Kuroo's head?? And I'm not even talking about his thoughts, I mean capilar issues only.

"But you never drew Kuroo??"

Ok fair (I'm scared to, though).

After a year of DaiSuga they're starting to get into shape in my hands so most struggles are getting solved. That being said, I have no idea how Furudate does post time skip Daichi's hair. I know it's a licked back hair but doesn't matter what I do it always looks SO weird??? So I go for a, uhh, sculpted up hair, or whatever one calls that. At least it looks good on him.

14. Any favorite motifs

The thing I love the most about illustrations are exactly that, they're illustrating, they're visually telling a story. And that's hard as fuck, but at the same time that's what's going to hold you to any piece for more than 2 seconds: because you'll want to absorb all details of it, you'll read the image and you'll tell yourself a story to every element and their interaction in there.

I'm, uh, very not practiced in, say, darker stories. Not that I don't want or don't like, but in between 46123 WIPs the lighter themes always win for some reason. So I love the challenge of making the characters look close, intimate, friendly, desiring, etc, and through their emotions start to tell the story with the other elements around them.

Expressions, exaggeration, emotions, body language. I suppose it's the humanity in it that I love to explore the most.

16. Something you are good at but don’t really have fun doing

Now, this is going to be really funny, I know, but: rendering.

90% of my pieces are rendering, I'M AWARE! Rendering is the trick in my sleeve, it's my magic, it's where I shine. But MAN, that's easily half of my work, and before that there's like, looking for references, doodle, sketch, fix everything, lineart, colour, change all colours a thousand times and clean the mess I made colouring, so when I say it takes a lot of time, it's usually a full week or more just rendering, depending on the amount of details.

And If I don't get the light right at first, there's always the fixing everything and do all over again and change the colour of the rendering and making it smoother etc etc

But in the end? Shit, it looks so good, doesn't it? Light observation is one of the few fundamentals I remember from studying for the art school exam and the skill I can safely say I got better ever since. But damn, it's a lot of work.

[dusksmote]

How do you ink and color? Any tips? I love your art! 💜🖤

oh shit i got this ask months ago and forgot to answer

inking: god i hate lineart so much. the trick is to not do it 😂 unfortunately, i still find myself spending hours on lineart all the time @_@ 

the biggest thing i’ve found is making your lines varied in thickness. it adds to the interest. i also try to make my outside line thicker than my inside ones to break up the figure from the background. don’t be afraid to skips some lines and imply them with shading instead. i will color over my lines at the end to make them not as strong, but i’ve learned to still keep some lines black for extra emphasis. 

^ here’s one of my older pieces that i’ve been considering redoing. it has very little line variation, ALL the lines are colored so there’s no solid black, and there’s very little hard contrast in shading values. overall, it looks flat and uninteresting and if i had the time i’d redraw this one.

this is a more recent example of lineart that i think works a lot better. the characters are really well defined with a strong outline, but the inside lines aren’t harsh and distracting. you can see i recolored the lineart in kyle’s hair to be a dark red, and in some places it blends with the shadows to imply areas with more highlights. stan’s pants don’t have and lines in them, just the outside shape and pockets. 

you can see in this wip what the lineart looks like before i do all the shading and fancy stuff. stan’s pants look totally flat and straight until i start shading.

a lot of the time though i won’t even do lineart, especially if it’s a big scenic piece. the more zoomed out less detail you can convey, and lineart takes up a lot of space. 

^ this piece is an example where i do both, lineart and no lineart. the mirror image of kyle isn’t the focus, and i honestly didn’t feel like going in and drawing exact lines because they’d probably look fucked up anyway. i typically don’t put hard lines in backgrounds because it would take FOREVER and just be distracting.

the one thing you do have to be careful of with lineless art is contrast. hard lines are good contrast that show you what you’re looking at, and without them your image can blend together. 

here’s part of a painting i did last august, when i was first experimenting with lineless styles (full image on my NSFW twitter). can you tell what’s going on here? i sure as fuck can’t. there’s no contrast, and it makes all the skin tones blend together in an unintelligible mush.

contrast has always been one of my biggest weaknesses as an artist, so i’ve been trying to improve over time. here’s a more recent lineless drawing:

this one works because it had high contrast. the highlights are really bright and the shadows are really deep. you can still make out the facial features too, but there’s no ‘lineart’ layer’. everything was painted on in the same layer.

-

-

coloring: oh my god i love coloring. it’s my favorite part of drawing and the reason why shit takes forever. a lot of the same stuff from before comes into play, like contrast. you can also portray some really interesting moods based on colors if you’re being stylistic, but also pay in mind to your environment.

i always color my background first. in fact, a lot of the time i’ll do the entire background before coloring a piece. the environment establishes your light levels and light source, and it’s typically easier for me to tweak colors on a figure than the ones in the background. in the above example with kenny, the background is a mostly solid black with a beam of light from the left. i picked kenny’s colors to fit in this environment. 

it’s also important to use references.  

you can see in this wip i’ve got a reference image for how light from a TV looks against figures and the way their shadows are cast across the wall. it also helped me figure out what colors to use in this situation.

a lot of coloring is just trial and error to see what works. i usually start with a flat base color and add value to it. if you put all your colors on different layers it’s really easy to change them quickly. 

here’s an example:

i got my base colors down and here i can see the skin tone is blending with the background, so i lightened it up for better contrast

i typically shade the skin first, then clothes. you can see here i did a dull skin tone with a bright colored shadow. this adds more contrast and interest. i always try to avoid doing dull shadows where you shift toward black. black shadows are really uninteresting and they can make your piece look muddy. i’ll typically shade with an orange, red, blue, or purple.

the final piece has a really bright highlight on it coming from behind. this just adds more visual interest and contrast. you can also see i’ve gone back into the pink shadows and added an even lighter, brighter peach value in places to show reflected light. this also gives the darker pink shadow an added outline effect, because it touches the base skin tone but looks lighter within. 

^ this one’s a good example of light and shadow (full image on my NSFW twitter lmao). there’s not a lot of color because it’s dark out, so everything had to be conveyed in values. there’s hard light across the stomach and then a shadow over the chest, but there’s still light being reflected up into stan’s face that lets us make him out. the rest is deep shadow and unimportant, so it’s all black.

that’s the other part, color and value determine where your eye is gonna look, so consider that when drawing. 

^ consider this piece i drew like a year ago. it has a lot of blues and reds, and originally i was going to make stan’s guitar blue. i don’t have the wips anymore, but it didn’t stand out and it didn’t look right with the image. after a lot of playing around i went with yellow because it’s bright, it breaks up the image, and it adds another color to the piece to balance it out.

the same thing happened when i was working on the cover image for What They Say About Us. 

you can see in this really early wip that i’d blocked in the colors and butters is totally naked. for one, i was like “damn that kid is WAY too naked in this image” and he also blended in with stan and cartman. additionally, there was a lot of warm colors on the left, a lack of color on the right, and an overall lack of blue.

first change i made was throwing a shirt on him and it made a huge improvement. the image looks much more balanced now and he’s not super distracting with his naked-ness.

other than that, coloring is just picking your base colors, blocking in shadows, adding highlight, and cleaning it up. if you wanna improve, look at photo references. look at other people’s art and examine how they use color and value. practice practice practice. have fun with it. the most fun i have coloring comes from figuring out interesting textures like the pharaoh headdress or kenny’s leather jacket. 

i find stock photos like this and study them to see how the light works

other than that, the rest is just playing around, seeing what works, and making things up as i go!

[twistedtranslations]

Cater Diamond - H-Huh?

You can unlock this story by getting Cater’s SR Lab coat

Translation under the cut

General TN

Cater refers to himself a lot as Cay(-kun), aka in third person, which is pretty important to know. I’ve only translated the line when he uses “Cay” to refer to himself once in the last paragraph for emphasis.

Laboratory

Cater: Damn, our break's already over. Hm, gotta find an empty seat… Ah, if it isn’t Vil and Lilia! I’m butting in and taking this seat~

Lilia: Oh, Cater. For you to be in the same elective as us.

Vil: It’s quite surprising that you chose poison refinement as your elective.

Cater: You think so? The other class sounded really boring.

Vil: Are you talking about "The transition and comparison of abbreviating incantations in ancient and modern times?"

Cater: That one! I've heard that it's the kind of class where you only make chronological tables and write reports. I'll definitely get fed up with something as boring as that. It's not like poison refinement is flashy either, but it has a dangerous vibe~…

Lilia: So when you weighed them against each other, you find this more preferable? I too chose this class for the same reason.

Cater: Really~? You and I, as fellow members of the light music club, really get along~

Crewel: Stop your yapping mongrels. Class is starting.

Everyone: Yes!

Crewel: Our first topic is cultivating mandrakes. If you bestow magic upon the seedling, it will grow faster. Be careful when you concentrate your magic, because how you raise it will affect the effectiveness of the poison. Then, godspeed, cultivate the seedlings you have at hand until they're a suitable size. Start the experiment!

Cater: Okay, let's put in some magic… Wow, the leaves and roots are steadily growing, nice~ If this keeps on, I'll have some healthy crops!

Lilia: … Oho? Cater, your mandrake has bigger leaves than mine.

Cater: You're right. Vil's mandrake… its leaves and roots look really glossy~

Lilia: Now that you say so… When I traveled in the past, I happened upon a soil of mandrakes and their shape and nature all differed.

Vil: The color of a crop can depend on the farmer, especially when it comes to vegetables.

Cater: So you mean to say that mandrakes raised by humans will reflect the character of the person whose magic it absorbed? Isn't that interesting! If we pour our magic in with all our power, we can make some distinctive mandrakes! Don't you think we'll trend on MagiCam if we manage to make some with funny poses and vegetable shapes?

Vil: That doesn't sound bad. I don't really care about the mandrakes trending though.

Cater: Really?! I mean, I proposed the idea, but I thought you, of all people, would find it stupid.

Vil: Now that I think about it, it's about imbuing your own hues in the mandrakes. Isn't that the perfect job for the elegant me? I am interested.

Lilia: I too will take part. I am most looking forward to the result.

Cater: Yay! Then, when we're done cultivating our mandrakes, we should come together and show 'em to each other! I look forward to seeing what mandrakes you'd make!

-

Vil: Here it is. What do you think about my mandrake?

Cater: Wow! This mandrake has an outstanding spine and build. And its roots are so crisp, it looks like a supermodel! Even more, it's moving rhythmically in cool poses. Glorious!

Vil: He's performing as if he's working. It must have been the influence of yesterday's magazine photoshoot.

Cater: As expected of you, Vil. Your amazing self awareness reflects in the individuality of your mandrake!

Lilia: Fufufu, mine is complete as well.

Cater: Huh, your mandrake is energetically dancing?!

Vil: The way it's moving its arms,is this a pop dance? What an awfully cheerful mandrake.

Cater: When you pull out a mandrake, it desperately cries with, resolved to its grim fate, but… Lilia’s mandrake looks completely different from what I expected. It's nice that it's having fun.

Lilia: Kufufu, I am glad I satisfied you. Raising a mandrake like this is very pleasant.

Cater: I won't lose to you two either. I'll make some real interesting guys! Okay, concentrate. While you're pouring your magic in, you should form an image of the mandrake you want to cultivate… There!

Chapter 2

Cater: Okay, concentrate. While you're pouring your magic in, you should form an image of the mandrake you want to cultivate… There!

Lilia: Oho, this is… a mandrake with cute, round, pink eyes.

Vil: Cater, you are unexpectedly girlish.

Cater: No, no, that's not it at all! I have two sisters after all… The Diamond family rates everything on its cuteness~ From drawing, to doing crafts and even when it came to the sweets I bought, I'd get criticized daily if it "weren't cute"…! That's why I got something cute on my first try. Well, I'll show you. The next one will be way cooler!… There!

Vil: Huh, the deep crimson body has a trump card pattern over it… What a bold design.

Lilia: Hoho, it lookes as if it is holding a guitar. It is very handsome indeed. This is the workmanship fitting of one who belongs to the light music club.

Cater: Thanks, you two! Now that I've got the hang of it, I can make other glamorous guys like this in a flash! If I concentrate once more… let's go!

Vil: This mandrake… this one is sitting on his knees as if he's prepared for gym class.

Lilia: Quite pessimistic, this one.

Cater: H-Huh?

Vil: ... Hey, Lilia. You said that the appearance of a cultivated mandrake depends on the personality of the human whose magic it was imbued with, right?

Lilia: Yes. It might be that the usual cheerful Cater hides a very downer side of himself.

Cater: Huuh?! No way, you guys are just overthinking! I sucked at imbuing this one with my magic!

Lilia: Cater, why are you so flustered? So your real essence might be~

Cater: There's no such thing as that~! Lilia, you're just playing with me, right? Come on… From now on, I'll show what I can really do!

-

Vil: Heh… I managed to cultivate three mandrakes.

Lilia: Me too. This amount of ingredients should suffice for refining the poison. How is Cater doing…?

Cater: Tada! These are my mandrakes!

Lilia: Oho, you also have three! A skipping one, a rainbow colored flashy one… and one who is holding his belly while laughing. They all seem fun from their appearance!

Cater: Right!

Vil: Hm, only three? I thought I saw you make more.

Cater: Hah! Don't joke around like that, Vil. These three are all of them.

Vil: Hmpf, if you say so, I won't pry any further.

Cater: A-Anyways, since I went through the trouble of making them, I should take some pics for MagiCam!

*shutter sounds*

Cater: Phew~ Be good, little mandrakes~ I'll keep on shooting 'til I get the perfect shot!

Lilia/Vil: …Ah.

Cater: Hey, which picture do you guys think is the best?

Crewel: Cater Diamond.

Cater: !

Crewel: What do you think that happens to fussing mongrels that do not stop barking.

Cater: A, Ahaha~ my apologies. But it's not like I was the only one…

Vil: It's like Mr. Crewel said. You should take this seriously, Cater.

Lilia: Neglecting the basic principles of being a student, namely the pursuit of knowledge, is deplorable.

Cater: Hey, don’t play dumb, that’s so unfair! Now I'm the only one getting in trouble! You're mistaken, Mr. I just got really excited about the study of this experiment… Here, please look! I put so much effort into the experiment that I grew six mandrakes. This is enough for the poison, right?

Crewel: So you weren't simply fooling around… But you know what happens if you howl any longer than this… right?

Cater: Yes, I'll watch out!… Vil, Lilia! How cruel could you be, abandoning me like that?

Vil: You were the one who started this.

Lilia: Agreed. It is of utmost importance to know when to pull back from entertainment.

Cater: That's not what I agreed to~~!~

-

*humming*

Cater: *sigh* Finally the class is over. Time to pull myself together with some shooting time~ Which mandrake will Cater finally upload to his MagiCam? Yep, the stylish and cheerful guys are great, but this one… I’d better pick this one. Oh. Maybe this mandrake that's always cackling. Cay should always be excited and happy after all~ Okay, mandrake, please look over here~ Stay still for a while. Okay, cheese!

*shutter noise*

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

Sonic X Theory: the other Ultimate Lifeforms

In Sonic X’s adaptation of Sonic Adventure 2, they make an interesting claim about the Ultimate Lifeform prototypes on the ARK. When Rouge hacks into the base, she informs Shadow of one thing- he wasn’t the only prototype from Project Shadow that escaped the ARK massacre. 

[ID: screenshots from Sonic X: one of Rouge looking up Project Shadow, surprised and reading “Shadow? Secure and dispose?” Another shot of two escape pods falling towards a planet, with the caption from a GUN soldier: “Our mission ended when we sealed away the prototype of the ultimate lifeform.” End ID.] 

Rouge makes the claim that neither of these escape pods was Shadow... so in X Canon, is Shadow even who he thinks he is? And just as importantly... who are the other prototypes? 

Full theory under the cut. 

So first off. Let’s look at Rouge’s claim that Shadow isn’t who he thinks he is.

Part One: Is Shadow from the ARK?

[ID: screenshots from Sonic X of Rouge and Shadow talking, with the following dialogue:

Rouge: This is the progress report for Project Shadow, a plan to create the ultimate life form. The body they created is still held there.

Shadow: I know. That’s a prototype. I’m the Ultimate Lifeform they created afterwards- 

Rouge: Two capsules were ejected when the ARK was shut down. But neither was found. They couldn’t lock up in prison what they couldn’t find. Do you understand? I wonder who you really are.

Shadow looks troubled. End ID.] 

So two capsules were ejected and neither was found in the fifty years it’s been since the accident-- except I think Rouge is wrong about one thing. Shadow is who he thinks he is- because his capsule was sent out alone. It must have somehow not been logged. 

How do we know this? Shadow’s flashback of being sent away and the man who worked for GUN are completely different- first of all, the GUN soldier doesn’t remember her saying anything to Shadow, or Shadow even being there- it seems that she died to send away something or someone else. Second- Maria is in a different position around the lever in both flashbacks. See the GUN soldier’s first-- 

Though we don’t see the full room, we get the sense that it’s small from the other shots that I don’t have the time to screenshot. She’s around an elevated platform not attached to a wall, and either facing the pod she’s sending away or in a completely different room. 

But, both of Shadow’s alternate memories of Maria sending him away-- the first one more stylized, the second one we can assume more real-- neither looks like this. 

In both, she’s in a differing position. In the sepia flashback, she’s not facing him, and pulling a lever attached to a wall. In the second flashback, she’s already on the floor, and the lever pad we see would cause her to be facing away from Shadow. In neither of these do we see any evidence that anyone other than Shadow and Maria are in the room or even nearby. 

Shadow also has enough evidence he’s who he thinks he is- he has the right powerset, the GUN soldier says that they did, indeed, seal away an Ultimate Prototype, Gerald mentions Shadow enough in his monologues, and... honestly there’s really no evidence that he isn’t Shadow, other than the two pods. And two pods? Shadow was sent out alone, we saw no evidence of a second pod in either flashback. So he wasn’t with anyone else. 

So what’s the conclusion? The conclusion is that these are two different events- one where Maria releases Shadow, and one where she releases another- or, possibly, the others, the two pods that were logged as escaping. 

Maria either freed Shadow first and then the other two, or she freed the first two, got shot, and then managed to survive long enough to send Shadow away. Either way-- these events are separate.  

So what was in the other two pods? Two other prototypes of the Ultimate Lifeform, clearly, but nothing like the Biolizard, they’re too small. 

Now let me ask you something... wouldn’t it make sense for the Ultimate Prototypes to look similar, if they were similar lifeforms? 

And who do we know who looks similar to Shadow? 

Part Two: Sonic is an Ultimate Lifeform

[ID: Shadow looking down at Sonic, and saying, “I see. We actually do look alike. It’s like looking in a mirror.” End ID.] 

Okay so like. Unless you’re very colorblind I think you’ve noticed that Shadow and Sonic are completely different colors. But let’s ignore that for now-- they do have a very similar silhouette... in fact, Shadow’s silhouette is incredibly close to SuperSonic, which is Sonic at full power. And in-universe, they look similar enough that in low lighting pretty much nobody can tell them apart. 

And not just that- Sonic has a lot of power for a seemingly “normal” mobian. [Yes, I know they don’t use the term “Mobius” in Sonic X but let me simplify this somehow.] His superspeed, ability to survive so much shit... he’s powerful enough that he presents a rival for Shadow without chaos emeralds (though Shadow is nerfed a little by the Inhibitor Rings- more on that later). 

[ID: Sonic and Shadow racing; they are keeping up with each other. Shadow says, “It seems your appearance isn’t the only thing that’s similar to me. Who are you?” Sonic responds, “I’m me.” End ID.] 

Shadow’s right- their appearance isn’t where the resemblance stops. And of course there’s probably the most damning similarity-- they are the only two characters we see go Super and have the ability to control the Chaos Emeralds.

[ID: First image is SuperSonic and SuperShadow, having absorbed the power of the chaos emeralds. Second image is from the Third Season, where a MetaRex shouts, “There are two individuals [referring to Sonic and Shadow] who can draw out the power of the Chaos Emeralds?” End ID.] 

Oh and SPEAKING OF Sonic/Shadow similarities-- there’s a scene in Season Three where Sonic is being lectured by the villain about how all life ends eventually so why bother etc. and Sonic says that life is worth the good bits, all that jazz. Here’s the scene:

And exactly 1:25 in.... guess what starts playing

This song is scarily similar to “Recollection of the Ark”... Shadow’s sad song about his memories of the ARK... while Sonic is being lectured about still having faith in humanity. You know. Like MARIA WANTED.

Interesting how we know absolutely nothing about Sonic’s past, huh-- pretty much all we have before he meets Tails is that he says he’s fifteen years old, but honestly... are we even sure about that? First of all, if Sonic was revived alone, there wouldn’t be a way to tell his age, he’d probably just accept the first age someone assigned him. 

Alternatively, we know from the end of Season Two and the beginning of Season Three that time works in a very wonky way from Earth to Mobius- in the ~2-3 days Sonic’s alone with Chris, a week passes on Mobius, despite the fact we know he can chaos control at any time. In the third season? Six years pass on Earth while six months pass on Mobius. So time doesn’t really work in a reasonable way, meaning it’s possible that Sonic is fifteen... and he lived fifteen years on Mobius after awakening, while fifty years passed on Earth. 

And we know for a fact that travel between Mobius and Earth was possible even before the events of Season One... because Eggman was born on Earth.

[ID: Eggman looking shocked and turning around in a chair, announcing, “I was born in this world!” End ID.]

Eggman was born on Earth and somehow ended up on Mobius-- but he was young enough he didn’t realize until he saw that Gerald lived on Earth. So was he in the second escape pod? It’s possible, but I don’t think so-- he’d have to have information on Gerald, and it seems he had a picture of Gerald and Maria, so it’s likely he traveled with a parent or guardian, or at least some kind of family history, which I doubt Maria would think to store in an escape pod while everyone was running for their lives. This plot element was probably just to set up that travel between the dimensions happens more than we think. 

Neither escape pod from the ARK was recovered, probably because they ended up on Mobius. 

It’s most likely that they Chaos Controlled into the other dimension-- I know I said Maria probably wouldn’t think to store anything other than the lifeform themselves in the pod, but if the lifeform needed Chaos Emeralds to practice/control their powers, or the Chaos Emeralds were already stored in an escape pod for safekeeping-- or if, possibly, GUN was attempting to capture the Chaos Emeralds as well, and the Robotniks knew that they would use them in a destructive way-- all that combined could mean that the emeralds would also be important enough to send away in a pod. 

If even one of the pods had Chaos Emeralds, it’s possible that the lifeform inside could have sensed danger and unconsciously teleported them to the most safe place from GUN-- another world where GUN didn’t exist and couldn’t reach them. And even better-- a world where mobians like them lived. 

From Sonic X lore that I don’t have the time to find and screencap, we know that the two worlds used to be the same but split at some point in history. If this was after, say, the events of Chaos destroying the Echidnas-- which, sidenote, interesting how they disappear and nobody knows where they went, so it’s possible that Chaos straight-up split the dimensions just to get rid of the Echidnas-- then enough of their lore could remain. Old cave paintings, wall carvings, etc., could show enough mobians that scientists could probably think “oh, wow, that looks like a god figure. might as well design our ultimate lifeform after that, esp since they had this god that could control chaos and the chaos emeralds came from here.” 

Wanna know what’s interesting about those ancient echidna temples? Guess who’s there-- if we go by Sonic 3 & Knuckles, a game that ofc had been released by the time X was being written...

SuperSonic. 

Both the ultimate form of Sonic, and the silhouette of Shadow. 

So let’s say they find this on the ARK studies, and they’re like “okay so our ultimate lifeform goal is a hedgehog. Got it.” There’s two options after this:

They make Sonic, but deem him a failure for reasons and cryo-freeze him until they need him or can release him. They then proceed to make Shadow, who they believe actually is their ultimate lifeform. 

They made Shadow first, but after a while kept experimenting and making more prototypes, just in case, or possibly because they decided Shadow wasn’t powerful enough. However, the prototypes weren’t ready to awaken before the ARK massacre, Shadow never met them. 

So as I’ve made clear, I’m pretty sure that one of those prototypes was Sonic-- who, of course, has no idea. Either he only entered consciousness after arriving in Mobius, or his memories of the ARK were so vague, traumatic, early, or a combo, that his mind blocked them out. Either way, it doesn’t matter, what matters is that he and Shadow are both prototypes, which is what gives Sonic his power. 

And Sonic’s power, btw, isn’t limited like Shadow’s. Because he doesn’t have inhibitor rings. 

If prototype!Sonic was sent away with inhibitor rings, he ditched them. Which would make sense, especially if he woke up with no memory of the ARK and didn’t know why these weird bracelets were on his arm. He would notice that the rings slowed him down and ditch them fast. And that’s assuming they even stuck rings on the prototype. 

But if we do assume they stuck rings on the prototypes... maybe we can find the other lifeform that was sent away along with Sonic. 

Part Three: Who is the Third Ultimate Lifeform?

Okay. Let’s do a headcount. 

Who, in Sonic X, 

Existed on Mobius at the same time as Sonic, 

Doesn’t appear to have a lot of power but has a lot of incredible strength if you pay attention, 

Sometimes shows strange abilities, such as far leaps into the air, a speed great enough that they can sometimes catch up to Sonic (though not as great, possibly because of the inhibition), even potentially the ability to summon weapons out of thin air, 

Looks similar to the Mobian Hedgehog-- or, perhaps, with influences from a Mobian Echidna, who were the ones who had the SuperSonic glyphs in the first place, and thus could potentially serve as a design point, 

Wears rings around their wrists at all times?

[ID: Amy Rose being absurdly powerful in several screencaps, often glowing; though this is normal anime expressionwork, it is something that exclusively happens to Amy in Sonic X. End iD.]

And, of course, this beauteous moment: 

[ID: A scene from the season two finale of Sonic X. Eggman’s ship, on which Amy’s hammer is stuck, is high above her, and Eggman taunts “It doesn’t matter if you’re angry because your hammer is stuck up here!” In the following image, a moving gif, Amy summons a hammer out of thin air, a puff of smoke coming from it, as she is still glowing with a fire-like energy. Eggman’s robots shout “She has another one! How many does she have?” End ID.]

That’s right! This was all an excuse to spout out my “Amy Rose could kill God” propaganda! But it’s not propaganda if I’m right!

Part Four: The Lifeforms

So. It’s been a couple months since I made this post, but I was rewatching Sonic X with my sister, and we did notice that you do see prototype lifeforms for a flash in the GUN soldier’s story.

[ID: Screenshots from Sonic X; The GUN soldier narrates his story, as we see GUN soldiers arresting scientists, while standing in front of empty tubes of bubbling green liquid. The caption reads, “There were many rumors about ARK. Such as doing research for eternal life or creating the Ultimate Life Form.” The GUN soldier steps to a tube that has something in it. End ID.]

We see a brief flash of an experimental lifeform in this memory, as seen above; we also see two more, the ones that were explicitly stated to be the ones Maria was freeing.

[ID: Screenshots from later in the same episode of Sonic X, the first showing two tubes with dark figures inside, surrounded by dark blue bubbling water. The next screenshot shows Maria preparing to free them, with the captions reading “An experimental life form? She’s planning to free it!” End ID.]

So, these silhouettes. Let’s uh. Let’s take a look at those huh

Now, the bodies are too thick to be standard mobian bodies- but we can also see wires attached to the prototypes, as well as, you know, whatever that liquid is. It’s entirely possible there’s something wrapped around their bodies, to keep them safe/asleep/etc.

But..... ok so I might be reaching here but analyzing the face silhouettes, using red lines to mark quills and green to mark potential laid-back ears, it really could be long-quilled sonic and short-quilled Amy.

As well as this, in the shot of the GUN soldier looking at a prototype, I swear I can see a mobian ear.

tl;dr this is all fascinating me and I think we should let the Sonic X crew return to making this show as if they never left so that we can get answers to this