Chapter 4
When Darkness Falls
“Light and darkness wage eternal war
While the shadow walks the path between
Without Light, the shadow is no more
And in darkness, the shadow remains unseen
Do not loathe the shadow, for it is of Light's design
An agent conceived to tread the line
A trail uniting nothing and reality
A weapon to combat darkness’ blasphemy”
-St Iqbal of Zabicha, Teachings Of An Old Woman
How long have I been walking? The desert seems endless. Infinite. I keep walking and walking and walking; every step I take is more tiring than the last. The sun's scorching radiance hits my head, but the skies are dark. I feel the warmth. An uncomfortable warmth. It's so hot; how much further do I have to go? I keep walking and walking and walking. My legs are shriveling under me. How far have I walked? I want to empty the coarse sand in my boots rubbing against my skin. It burns. It hurts. Why am I burning? I don't want to think anymore; I'm too exhausted.
Walking and stepping. Where am I headed? I feel lost; the horizon hasn't changed, but I can't stop marching on. I see my body moving, but my mind doesn't sense it. Where am I going? Am I still in control? I forgot. I have to follow the voice. I failed. The sands will guide me, and Light will show me. The air is dry. My nostrils are drying out. It feels like my nose is burning every time I breathe. Flames. Every single breath dries up my throat. I can't bear it anymore. I'm walking and walking; the heat's getting more formidable, yet it's only getting darker. Where did the sun go?
I'm being submerged, not in water, but in flames. A flood of searing fire. Where did it come from? A blazing wall now surrounds me. I hear screams. Who is it? Who goes there? I have to stop. The screams are getting louder. I can't see; the flames are getting brighter. I'm being engulfed in what feels like fiery hatred. Whose hatred, and why do I feel it? Children and women. The screams are piercing my ears. They hurt. Make it stop. A chill runs down my back. I can't focus. I can't breathe. Help me. Someone help me. My legs are giving in. Aldawi. I'm falling head first; I hear laughter as the ground approaches. It sounds sinister. My body is cold; I'm freezing. I see darkness.
"Find her, my beloved son," a unity of voices echoed in the darkness. The sound of the spoken words was so powerful it tugged at his soul, made his bones rattle, cleared his mind in an instant, and pulled him out of his trance-like state. He discerned a familiar voice, one that he was convinced he recognized. A voice so soothing it felt like time had ceased, like every aspect of reality stopped to admire its melodic serenity.
"Mother?" he asked, flailing around in the darkness as he attempted to approach the voice. His breathing was chaotic and uncontrolled. His chest emitted a loud pounding noise, and each of his steps reverberated in the sublime silence of the void.
"No, my child, her light is no more," the voices echoed anew, still far away. His body felt heavy; he couldn't move properly. He tried running, but his legs would not obey him, stumbling in the dark.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't save you, I couldn't save her," he said, panting, still struggling to run in the absolute darkness, "Please forgive me."
"They have already forgiven you child. You are the one who cannot forgive yourself. That is why you have been chosen to walk this path," the voices echoed a final time with such resonating power that the void began trembling. Anur, losing his footing, fell to his knees, still out of breath but less agitated than he had been. His heart was beating so painfully that his chest tightened. His mind raced as he contemplated the entity's words and his mother's voice. I'm dreaming, he thought, but it felt too real to be a dream.
He did not get to reflect for long; a thunderous brass roar burst into existence, a harmonious sound so ethereal it transcends human perception. What his ears couldn't hear, his soul could. As the majestic sound filled the dark void with a cosmic radiance that undoubtedly held the secrets of reality, a bright light began materializing in the distance. A light so luminous it wholly blinded Anur. He covered his face with his hands to spare his eyes, who had gotten used to the darkness. All in vain, for the light was of such brilliance he could still see it through his eyelids and palms. He could feel it peering into the deepest parts of his soul; nothing could hide from it. His body started feeling lighter, and his knees and legs slowly lifted off the ground. Once the blinding radiant light faded, he opened his eyes to witness a spectacular scene. He was floating in an infinite blank void. The darkness had been dispersed.
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"There is no greater honor than to witness what you have just witnessed, Anur," a smooth voice whispered into his right ear. It didn't startle him, his eyes wide open in disbelief at the scenery. In difference to the miraculous scene that had unfolded before his eyes, the soft serpentine voice attempting to communicate with him seemed banal. A more or less common occurrence to him. He held his right arm up with his palm open and facing towards the infinite. The two blue gems on his silver ring were pulsing with a faint aquamarine light.
"Am I dreaming, Afá?" he asked, fixing his stare on the two glowing gemstones. A sliver string of the purest black began slithering out from under the ring, coiling around his arm up to his shoulder and neck. The two blue gemstones were pulsing even faster, and as the string had fully emerged, it began stretching, widening, and taking the shape of a snake. It didn't have any scales, and its form was devoid of any material trace; its skin was smooth and dark as the abyss, contrasted by small bright white spots like the twinkle of a million stars. The snake could be described as the manifestation of a starry, woven into the sinuous shape of an elusive serpent.
"A rather difficult question. Yes, you are dreaming, but what you saw was undoubtedly reality," the serpent said as its raven eyes gazed into his.
"I'm dreaming, but it was real? The fire, the screams, and the bright light were all real?" Anur asked again, "I'm not sure I understand," he added, softly caressing the beard on his chin.
"Your visions happened, and they have yet to happen. The machinations of Light and reality are far beyond your rationality. I would advise you not to question it," the snake Afá replied, slithering around his neck. Anur couldn't truly feel the snake around him despite seeing and hearing it.
"It's always a mystery with you. Light, was that what I saw? The voices, what were they?" he asked, his curiosity far from sated, "They told me to save her."
"We witnessed the unity, an entity in the service of Light, of Aldawi," Afá said, "I do not know why they decided to appear before you in your dream, and their message was rather ambiguous."
"So there are things you do not know. I thought the first shadow, as ancient as the realm itself, was all-knowing," Anur remarked with a smug expression, his eyebrows slightly arched and a smirk on his lips.
"I may consider myself all-knowing, but I am not omniscient, dear Anur," Afá said, tightening its body around his neck and arm. Anur still couldn't feel it and paid it no attention. He was too busy reflecting on the serpent's answers.
"This is your Fari. A sanctum within the deepest domains of your soul," Afá said, deducing Anur's train of thought. Afá, enjoying their time slithering and looping around Anur's body, came to a sharp halt as their tiny serpent head suddenly pointed straight up, their stare locked on something that wasn't there. Anur noticed this and opened his mouth to speak. Still, the serpent interjected without looking at him, "Set your questions aside for now. It seems we have an urgent matter, lest you have forgotten what you journeyed out for." Anur quickly realized what Afá meant. His relaxed demeanor from floating in the Fari immediately grew tense.
"Djinn," Anur said with clenched teeth and his hand rubbing his forehead, "I thought the town would have been safe for a few more nights. I misjudged." He closed his eyes, and memories flowed through his mind like sand in an hourglass. He recalled the old acacia tree, the valley, the supply shortage in the market, the eatery, the men discussing the shadow in the north, the Innkeeper and his associate, the visions of fire in his dreams, and the otherworldly experience in the Fari. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had overlooked something important. A knot that tied it all together. What am I missing, he thought, rubbing his forehead harder, his breathing growing more audible. Suddenly, the images in his mind stopped flowing; visions of the Fannak fox followed by the blinding light had taken the foreground. What is it that ties them together, he wondered. One is a creature, while the other is an entity that doesn't belong in this world. Belong...
It was then that the realization pierced him like a spear of light. The skull, he thought. He had forgotten about it because of his exhaustion upon arriving at the valley. He remembered it felt devoid of light, like it didn't belong in Light's design. He knew that Djinn consume light like plants drink water. Afá had once told him that all is light and nothing is darkness; by extension, that light was the essence of reality. He now understood what they had meant by it. Djinn are creatures born from shadow, an unholy matrimony of Light and darkness. When they consume something's light, they extract that thing from reality; it no longer belongs in Light’s design. Angry at himself for his serious oversight, Anur let out a wrenching bellow, resonating through the void of the Fari. Afá, displeased by the sound, sprung at his neck, sinking their fangs into it.