The town of Bushehr was a sea of flames. Men and women fled with their families before the trampling hooves of horses and their rider’s lances. But, cut off at every turn, either by collapsing buildings or the swift maneuvering of the besiegers, few escaped with their lives.

Only one building remained untarnished.

In the center of Bushehr stood a large temple devoted to the King of Heaven. Here, while torturous screams competed with the roaring blaze outside, Magister Aedam kneeled on the cold stone pavement and wept a solemn prayer.

“My Lord,” said a voice, and Aedam opened his eyes to the gleam of dawn’s first light.

“What is it, Commander?” Aedam said, feeling the stiffness in his knees.

“The Dawaran have gathered under the oculus, my lord.”

It was quiet outside. The night of terror had finally ended.

“What news do they bring?” Aedam asked, and he could hear the verve in the commander’s undertone.

“The best kind, my lord. The last piece of the puzzle.”

Aedam pressed his tired eyes shut, then opened them, lifting his gaze to the heavens, which were portrayed so marvelously in the temple’s ornate frescos.

“Thank you…” he whispered to his Lord and then to the Commander. “I will meet with them shortly.”

“Yes, my lord.” The commander bowed, and a moment later, the heavy wooden door shut behind him.

~

Aedam walked in the light of the stained glass windows toward the temple’s great dome. The smell of burned wood and seared flesh hung thick in the air, but the sun shone, and Aedam couldn’t help but see it as a sign. His actions, though severe, had been just, and his sacrifices rewarded.

Black-robed figures bowed their heads when Aedam entered the nave. “Magister.”

They’d congregated around the altar, which, under the oculus, radiated with daylight. Without needing to be told, the Dawaran parted to make room for their leader. Aedam gleaned from the maps and notes strewn across the altar and folded his arms into the wide sleeves of his black robe.

“Report.”

Aryana bowed her head and motioned to several dots connected by red marked lines on the map. “Good tidings, Magister. The work is done. We finally know where the accursed Afreet is hiding.”

Aedam said nothing as he traced the triangulating lines to the town of Abadeh.

“There can be no doubt,” another of the Dawaran said. “He always returns to this place.”

“This is most concerning,” said yet another in a cautious undertone. “It is well known that a Djinn resides in those lands.”

Aryana hissed, her honied eyes burning with righteous ardor. “If the Djinn has been helping the Afreet, then it is our enemy.”

Darian, a rather large man, snorted. “You’d have us incur the wroth of the Djinn too? The Djinn is just a tool, no more, no less. To feel hatred towards it is blasphemy.”

Aryana glowered. “You dare question my faith so openly, Darian?”

With a sigh, Darian’s gaze faltered. “No. Of course not, but we must remain focused on our true enemy.”

The young woman was about to retort, but Aedam quieted them with a raised palm. “That is enough from the both of you. Darian, mind the weight your words can carry. Aryana, remember to temper your zeal with a cool head.”

The two flushed. “Forgive us, Magister.”

Aedam’s gaze slowly swept over them. “Never forget, you’re all brothers and sisters by sacred oath. You will know each other’s hearts. Darian, Aryana, face each other.” With some reluctance, they did. “Do you love your Lord?”

“Yes,” they both said.

“Liars!” Aedam snapped, and they reflexively cringed. “How can you claim to love something you can’t see when you refuse to love the person right in front of you? Look at each other. See them. Is not the face of our Lord reflected in the countenance of your kin?”

Shame contorted their features, but they also tried very hard, and Aedam knew they were trying. He also knew how difficult it was to love someone you didn’t understand.

“I want you both to pray together and meditate on what evil is keeping you from showing each other the respect and affection you’ve so often shown me.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Yes, Magister,” they said quietly, hanging their heads.

“Good—good.” Aedam’s gaze flitted between them. None. Not even those Aedam hadn’t scolded dared to meet his eyes, as they too must have felt the pang of his lesson.

“Now,” Aedam continued, “Let us review the matter at hand. You’ve done your work well, and I’m pleased. Darian, your objections are noted, but a tool the Djinn may be, he is a weapon in our foe’s arsenal.”

“Will—will we then truly fight the Djinn, my lord?” Darian asked.

“No. Because, as you said, the Djinn is but a tool.”

“My lord,” asked a timid voice in the back, “can you tell us what we will be up against?”

Aedam grumbled pensively. “The Djinn who lives there is called Khorasan. A strange being, even among his kind. Legend has it that long ago, his master smashed his container, and he set him free. Yet, the Djinn grew discontent with his newfound freedom and has been gathering the broken shards of his old container ever since.”

Aryana furrowed her brow. “He wishes to be a slave again?”

Aedam shrugged. “Perhaps. But who knows the ways of these beings? We cannot let curiosity distract us, though. We will go to Abadeh with one aim, and one aim only, and as we’ve always done, we will do whatever it takes to rid the world of the Afreet.”

“We could set up a perimeter,” Commander Rostam said.

“That would stretch our forces too thin,” Aryana said.

“Besiege the settlement. Lure the wretch out,” Darian said.

“We’ll do nothing of the sort—yet,” Aedam said. “We don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with, and so we shall act with caution. And who knows? The Djinn might prove to be of some use to us.”

Darian frowned. “My lord, you can’t mean to beseech a Djinn for favor. Only the King of Heaven can—”

“I have no intention of defying our Lord, Darian,” Aedam said, letting his voice boom. “Yet, I will know more about this Djinn. So, I shall enter his domain simply to talk.”

“We can’t let you go in there alone, Magister.”

“I’m not a helpless babe who needs your succor, Aryana.”

“But—”

“However, to set your mind at ease, I will take Commander Rostam with me.” Aedam could easily tell from Aryana’s expression that this wasn’t what she had in mind. “I will need someone by my side who can keep a level head. You aren’t ready, and neither is Darian for that matter.”

Aryana clenched her teeth, but Darian seemed more accepting of the assessment.

“I do have another task for the both of you. Ready the army. We’re marching in two days. The rest of you are dismissed.”

~

Supper had been meager. As it always was. Still, Aryana couldn’t find the appetite to finish it. That was profane, since one was never allowed to waste nourishment. She would gladly share her ration, but giving it to one of her brothers would favor one sibling over the other. That was also profane.

And so, Aryana did nothing but sit on the windowsill, gazing at the warped shadow of a burned town. She didn’t feel any sympathy for the survivors or the dead. The Afreet had been here, and these people had willingly offered their homes, their food, their beds, and perhaps even more, all to appease an agent of evil. Even worse, they’d profited by taking the Afreet’s gold and had believed themselves richer for it.

That was truly obscene.

Metal hinges groaned as the magister left the chapel, and Aryana scrambled to her feet.

Aedam paused in the doorframe, his slate eyes regarding her curiously. He was a tall man, thin but hardened by a life of adversity. His handsome face had aged prematurely, as if burdened by the weight of the world, and his once flaming red hair had dulled, grayed, and receded.

“My lord—”

“Aryana.” He closed the door behind him. “Were you waiting for me?”

Aryana nodded, speaking softly. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I always have time to give counsel. Come, we shall walk together.”

“Thank you, Magister.”

Leaving her unfinished plate on the windowsill, Aryana fell into lockstep.

“Now, what troubles you, my Daughter?”

Aryana bit her lip. “This business in Abadeh, Father. I don’t like you going into a Djinn’s castle alone.”

“But I will not be alone.”

“No… I didn’t want to speak out against you in front of the others, but I believe choosing Brother Rostam is a mistake.”

Aedam snorted softly. “I thank you for your discretion. Now, why do you feel Brother Rostam isn’t up to the task?”

Aryana took a deep breath. “Because—he lacks creativity, Father.”

“Oh?”

Aryana didn’t dare to look at him. There was a note of amusement in the magister’s tone. She didn’t know what to make of it.

“It is with great difficulty that I speak of this, Father, because I feel no ill will toward my brother. He’s a fine soldier, and he saved us many times.”

“You personally, if I recall.”

Aryana felt her jaw muscles tighten. “Yes. And for that, I’m eternally grateful. But, that doesn’t mean he is right for every mission.”

“Perhaps. And what advantage would you bring—assuming that you’re about to suggest yourself as his replacement?”

Aryana took a few long strides and turned to stop. “I can think on my feet. I have a better eye than Rostam—I’m more suspicious by nature. It is why you trust me with our most covert assignments. I’ve read the legends and heard the stories surrounding Abadeh and the magical castle. Things aren’t what they seem in there. The Djinn’s defenses are subtle—he’s a trickster and shapeshifter. That’s why you don’t need a soldier in there, Father. You need a shadow.”

Aedam crossed his arms and straightened to his full height, eyes narrowed, but he didn’t interrupt.

Aryana swallowed, finding it hard to keep his imperious gaze. “I know my passion runs deep, and sometimes I struggle when I let my guard down, which I do when I’m surrounded by my family. But never when I am set to task. Among my brothers, I am fire, a taloned rooster, but when I am on a mission, I creep like ice and am as wary as a heron. Please, I beg of you, let me come and keep you safe, Father.”

There was a long moment of thoughtful silence, but Aryana had nothing left to add. She knew she was the better choice.

Aedam finally sighed and relaxed his stance, a thin yet warm smile easing his features. “You make a compelling case, Aryana. I will consider—”

But Aryana dropped to one knee, head bowed in the deepest show of submission. “Please, Father—I need this. I need to keep you safe.”

There was another briefer pause before Aedam spoke again.

“Aryana.”

“Please.”

“Aryana,” he said, more firmly, and she soon felt his pointy finger curl under her chin, raising her gaze to his. “I have heard you, and I will think about it. Allow me that much, hm?”

Aryana tried to answer his paternal smile. “Yes. Of course, Father.”

He carefully helped her up, being every bit as able as when she first met him almost twenty years ago.

“There. Now, you should return to your duties.”

“Yes, Father.”

“And Aryana?”

“Yes, Father?” Aryana said, spinning back with a spark of hope in her eyes.

“You still have a plate to finish.”