“Are you hungry yet?

“No.”

“At all?”

“Hm, maybe a little peckish.”

Tarikh groaned. They’d taken Juva out to the oasis, though far from the ogre’s shack, and laid her to rest under the shimmying shadows of palm trees. The fresh air would do her good, Tarikh reckoned—or hoped. But, unfortunately, there was precious little else they could do but try to keep her fever down.

Shakka had been surprisingly caring. She wetted a cloth and dabbed Juva’s forehead, keeping her cool.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just direct the Dark out of her,” she said.

“I can only control it when it hasn’t taken root inside of a host. The Dark is like tar. It sticks and gets into the corners and niches of a being’s soul. Not even I can get it out completely, but I believe that together we have a chance.”

“Like tar? The Dark really sounds like some nasty stuff.”

“It is.”

“But I still don’t see how I can help.”

“That’s because you don’t fully understand what you are. Very few monsters do ever since the Dark became rare in this realm.” Shakka hugged her knees and listened. “It used to be that the Dark was everywhere. It was a glorious time during which armies marched and great battles scarred the land. But those days are over, and there isn’t even enough Dark left to open a portal to the Demon Realm.”

“You’re trapped here?”

Tarikh shrugged. “In a manner of speaking. Without the Dark, I can’t easily leave this place, but there are ways.”

Shakka nodded slowly. “The thingmajig you’re carrying has something to do with that, doesn’t it?”

Tarikh took out the geardial and sighed. “Yes. With this device I can travel through time to when there was a lot more Dark around. And each time I go back, I take a little with me in this vial. Once it’s full, I’ll have enough to open the portal and finally return home.”

“If it’s a time machine,” Shakka said, “then why don’t we go back to before Juva got sick?”

“The geardial doesn’t work like that. As with all things, there is a cost to its magic. It responds to trauma, wounds left behind in the ether caused by grief and anguish. The deaths of those two buffoons was only enough to take us back a couple of minutes. We were lucky we didn’t need to go back any further.”

“I see… But if you wanted to travel further, couldn’t you just—eh—execute a bunch of people?”

Tarikh shook his head. “No, sadly, that’s not how it works. The geardial knows when you try to cheat. It remembers…”

Shakka sighed, and for a few moments, it was quiet between them. “So—Najafabad. Juva told me there was a great battle there.”

“Yes, great enough to have scarred the ether.”

“Enough to take you all the way back to the actual war?”

Tarikh nodded. “Yes, and I intend to fight in that war.”

“Fight in the war?”

“Of course. Killing those who carry the Dark in their hearts will free it, allowing me to collect the Dark by directing it into the vial.”

“Wouldn’t killing those people change the course of history?”

“No. I study every battle and choose my targets carefully. Those I kill are the ones who’re destined to die that day. Nothing changes when we go back. Najafabad will still fall, and anyone supposed to die is still going to die.”

Again the young werewolf fell quiet, and Tarikh could tell she was working things out.

“I still have a lot of questions,” she finally said. “But the biggest one is, if this stuff is so nasty, why didn’t you carry the vial yourself?”

Tarikh sighed and gazed out over the still surface of the oasis. It was a large body of water, but that wasn’t why it seemed endless. Rising heat warped the air on the far shore, refracting sunlight into a gleaming band that spanned the horizon, obscuring the undulating desert hills beyond.

“There are reasons I can’t hold on to this for long. Few can, but Juva is special—pure, in a sense. When I found her, there was no hate in her heart. There still isn’t, and believe me, she has every right and reason to hate the world.”

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“Hm. At first, I thought she was just too air-headed to realize when she was being insulted.”

“I thought so as well, in the beginning. But she is a lot more clever and aware than she lets on, isn’t she?”

“Yeah…”

Tarikh glanced at Juva as Shakka once again dabbed the beads of sweat from her brow with the wet cloth.

“I still can’t detect the Dark inside of her… But it’s there, and it’s writhing, trying to force its way into her heart. She is fighting very hard, Shakka. You should respect this unseen battle. Not many would have lasted this long.”

“I understand, and I do. Honestly, I do—Lord Tarikh?”

“Yes, Shakka?”

“You want me to devour this thing, but what will happen to me once I eat it? Won’t it try to corrupt me as well?”

Tarikh smirked. “Fear not, little werewolf. Whatever you devour won’t end up in your stomach.”

Shakka canted her head curiously. “Then—where does it go?”

Tarikh motioned to her snout. “That glow coming from the back of your throat. It is a gateway, of sorts, leading to a place of quintessence, Gluttony, in your case. If you devour something with your ability, it becomes trapped there forever.”

“For real? Like some kind of extra-dimension?” Shakka’s jagged mouth turned into a wicked grin. “Sweet—but why didn’t my elders speak of this?”

“I don’t think any werewolf alive today even knows. Same as the monsters of this land, everyone has forgotten where they came from.”

“It’s strange. But that doesn’t surprise me. All my life, I’ve felt—incomplete. Like something was missing from our past, our identity. Life in Hufuf felt hollow. I know others felt like I did, even if they’d never admit it. It’s easier to live a lie, I guess. To just go along and pretend that everything is normal.”

The sun began to set, and Tarikh made a fire that burned without wood.

“Hungry yet?” Shakka shook her head. “Hm. Seems like it’s taking longer than usual. We really don’t have much time left, though.” Shakka hummed pensively, then stopped and suddenly got up to jog in place. Tarikh frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Working up an appetite.”

Tarikh blinked in astonishment. “Genius. I should have thought of that myself.”

“Same. I can’t believe it took me that long to—wait, what are you doing with that hammer?” Tarikh swung his war hammer at Shakka. She leaped just in time to escape the deadly blow. “Are you crazy!? You could’ve killed me!”

Tarikh grinned. “Just pretend we’re playing tag—for keeps.”

“Y-you’re kidding, right?” But as Tarikh raised his hammer again, the color drained from her face, and she ran. “Get away from me, you crazy bastard!”

She was right to run. Tarikh wasn’t joking. He came after the werewolf, chasing her down while she fled, screaming for her life.

~

As night fell, the oasis of Shirin became a black shadow across the desert. They’d left everything but their horses, though Jasper’s saddle was empty.

“We shouldn’t have left like that. What if—”

“Jasper is gone,” Xerxes said, cold iron in his eyes.

Raakel fell silent, feeling the muscles tighten at her jaw. “Sir, what was that thing?”

The hardness in his voice gave way to a sigh. “I don’t know.”

“Then, do we just abandon Jasper—Shirin to those vile creatures?”

“Of course not,” Xerxes bit back.

Raakel reflexively cringed, but she was also angry, and her grip tightened around the leather reins. “Then what will we do now? Is there even anything we can do? Your sword barely left a mark on the Afreet’s skin.”

Raakel watched Xerxes, his countenance as if hewed from stone. She wanted to believe there was something, some grand plan or strategy, that would win the day. But the day had given in to night, and they were fleeing into the desert.

Another few moments passed without a word, and just as Raakel lowered her head, Xerxes stopped.

“What’s wrong, my lord?”

“Remember that priest back in Abadeh? The one all in black?”

“The Dawaran, yes, I remember him.”

“Their order is known for prosecuting monsters.”

“Of all kinds, my lord. Indiscriminately.”

“Yes.”

Raakel’s eyes flashed wide. “Sir,” she said, her tone dropping to a whisper. “The Dawarans are extremists. They make no distinction between monsters and those who aided them, human or otherwise.”

Xerxes raised his gaze to the sky. The Moon was full, and his hands trembled. “I don’t know. Perhaps they have the right of it. Perhaps monsters shouldn’t exist anymore.”

There was a hollow thud in Raakel’s chest, and she rode her mare up to Xerxes’ side. “And what about the people? The innocents?”

Why won’t he look at me?

“We won’t bring back the entire order. Just a few—specialists. They’ll know what to do.”

Raakel scoffed. “No, not in this case. We’re talking about an Afreet, and I think this is the one they’ve been hunting these last few years. If you call on the Dawaran Order, you’ll doom all of Shirin.”

“What other choice do we have?”

“Every choice! Walk away! Let’s leave this place.”

Xerxes snorted and kicked his stead back into motion.

Raakel followed a few steps behind. “My lord, please—”

“You’d give up on Jasper so easily?”

Raakel’s mouth fell open. “I’m not giving up! And just a moment ago, you said Jasper was dead.”

“He is! But that doesn’t mean we don’t get to avenge him.”

“So this is about revenge now?”

“This is about what’s good for all of us, for the human race. Do you know how easily they can crush us? By the Dises, our king is a kobold!”

Raakel bit her lip. The horrid image of Jasper getting swallowed by the black mist flashed in her mind’s eye. “We’ve had peace.”

“There’s an Afreet on the loose. Nothing good can come from letting it run amok.”

Raakel stopped, and a terrible fear took root inside of her. He would not change his mind. He would bring the Dawaran knights to this land, and Shirin would be destroyed.

“If your mind has been made up, then I request to be left behind, my lord.”

Xerxes twisted in his saddle. “Leave you? No—what for?”

Raakel turned back toward Shirin, which was just a distant clutter of lights in a sea of blue and gray. “Let me evacuate the townsfolk. They don’t need to suffer.”

For a long while, she heard only the brush of the wind, but when she finally turned back, Xerxes no longer avoided her gaze. The hurt in his eyes stung more than she could’ve imagined.

“Then stay.”

“I’ll catch up to you as soon as—”

“I don’t need you. This whole thing is your fault. You and your useless Delphic arts.”

“Xerxes… My lord—”

“I’m no longer your lord. I have relieved you.”

Tears welled and spilled in a single blink. “Please…”

But her words reached nothing but air. Xerxes spurred his mount and, along with Jasper’s horse, bolted into the night, leaving nothing but a faint trail of dust that quickly faded in the desert breeze.

Raakel dried her tears and steeled her resolve. He was angry, but he’d come around in time. He had to. She would make it up to him, make him understand. But for now, she had to save the people of Shirin.