Outside the carriage window was a vast sea of green. The tall grasses rolled, stretching for miles on either side of the road. The sun was high, the clouds were like rounds of bunched cotton—floating, soft, and white. The peaks were as picturesque as ever; the snow caps never quite melt until Dry Season, the hottest season of the summer. Even then, bits of snow will remain.
The ride smooth, the grasslands were clear of dwelling. Zara could make out a few homes and barns in the far, far distant. She remembered bits of this route, from her childhood long ago. The calm weather, the thin streaks of daylight breaking through the clouds, and the winds whispering through the grass were vaguely familiar, like a passing dream of nostalgia.
They would be approaching the farmlands in another hour. They had passed a rice field the day before, and stopped at the nearby village to rest for the night. They would be crossing the city border in another day’s time. Three days it will take until she was out of the place she’d called home all of her life.
Home?
Zara scoffed at herself. What did she know of as home? All she really knew of Pria—all she’d known since her early adolescent years—was limited to that damn house with those damn people she was forced to acknowledge as family. The townspeople were either against her, or suspicious of her. Some had pitied her.
None of it mattered now.
She let out a shaky sigh. It was truly all she knew. Now she was heading straight into unknown horizons.
Very, very unknown.
No one she knew would be there. She would not have a single friend. The single “friend” she did have, she’d left behind. She was leaving an entire life behind. Some would say it wasn’t really much of a life, but it was one she’d grown used to. Even the misery had, at least, been familiar.
Zara craned her neck and watched Mount Lilith move further away. No matter how far they went, it was still imposing, even though it was at a much greater distance. It was the sole black behemoth that stretched so far high no one could see its head. The snow at the top never melted, even in the summer. The pilgrims who had attempted to climb to the highest point, beyond the Holy Temple, were still laying frozen beneath the ice, for decades on end.
“Cold?”
Zara turned her neck so fast she’d almost cracked it.
“Huh? No,” she said.
Revan sat beside her with some distance between them. The carriage he’d gotten for them was roomy; there was no concern over him invading her personal space.
Their coachman did not ask questions. Revan had paid him well not to. Zara had felt very silly for believing that Revan would resort to magic straight away in order to keep strangers quiet about their business. He had laughed at her for that, pronouncing it unwise to waste energy where it wasn’t needed.
“You were shivering,” he commented gently.
“I was?”
“…Are you missing your home?”
Zara thought about it for a minute. Her heart felt strangely torn. She looked back out the window, at the passing field, the distant forests, the mountains, everything that would eventually leave her sight. She thought of the forest near her house, the calming solitude the gorgeous clearing had offered her. A melancholic unease settled in her stomach. She wanted to cry, but forced herself not to.
“Zara?” His voice was soft and understanding. He’d been through similar, perhaps worse.
She may not have family or friends, or a real home. But she did have him. He was with her, the soothing familiar among the frightening unknown.
“No,” was the answer she gave.
----------------------------------------
“What even is that?”
“I thought she was supposed to be a dancer?…That’s what we were told…”
“She’s…okay. But not very good. Not as good as the others—”
“That was an awkward way to move…”
“Right. She’s not matching it with the song. It’s like she’s two beats behind.”
“She’s the one we were talking about…”
“Yes. We suspect she had something to do with that boy, and the curse in the mountain. Strange that she should be showing her face up there, dancing like this. Like a fool.”
“Sometimes I wondered why we are even here. It’s like asking for bad luck over our heads!”
The hissing voices meshed together, loud enough to reach Zara’s unfortunate ears. She slowed her clunky movements even further. She had no idea what she was doing. She had no routine, she was simply moving—or trying to move—with the music, as Shyla had advised, but…it was the first time Zara was dancing to actual music. When she practiced alone, she’d picture a song, or a beat, in her mind. Dancing to live music was a lot different. She couldn’t keep up. She was all over the place.
She knew this would be the only outcome. She should have refused adamantly, fought back more instead of letting herself be yanked around like a sack of straw. All those people standing below—the dancers, Dolly’s friends—had set her up for humiliation, save for Shyla, who was—to Zara’s stark realization—a feeble minded fantasizer.
Shyla watched Zara with clenched teeth, flinching with each mediocre step. Surrounding her was a field of ugly faces. Laughing. Mocking. Enjoying the shit show with the rest of the party.
Zara stopped. She’d only been dancing for maybe two to three minutes. But it seemed much longer than that.
Dolly was by Varun’s side. He had his arm around her protectively. She was leaning into him, and she did not seem happy at all. Those two were the only ones not laughing, or speaking ill of her. Dolly’s eyes begged Zara to end it, to stop ruining her special day.
Too late. Zara was glued to the wooden boards beneath her feet. Her legs were like heavy lead. She felt as though the many candles around her had risen and was burning into her flesh. She did not lift her hand to wipe the sweat dripping down her head.
She watched the crowd giggle at her hesitance. The same old gossip that had been going on all day was now circulating yet again.
She couldn’t even look at her family’s face. She could hear them defending themselves. She couldn’t look at Cina, who was frantically calling her name. She heard Shia’s faint voice somewhere among the noise, calling for her as well. She thought of her brothers. One would be grinning at her as cruelly as his wife was doing now. The other made it clear he cared nothing for her.
The witch doctor, hidden by the dusk, was visible to only her. He had ceased moving for her failed performance, but was slowly approaching again.
She had wanted to believe in herself—believe that she was good. She would dance her awful hallucinations of that man away and impress the people with her talent. She pictured herself dancing in her own anklets. The anklets she wore were not hers; the clinks were jarring. Unpleasant.
I am not hallucinating. He is there. He’s here to expose me. She closed her eyes, shivering. She might as well be naked. She distracted herself with scent of the ever so cooling breeze, woodsy and wet. It whispered over her hot skin. It felt good, cooled her down. She wanted more of it.
A hard object scraped the side of her head before shattering behind her. Zara jolted at the sudden strike.
What the fuck?
Pieces of what looked like a small plate were scattered behind her, along with large crumbs of leftover sweets. Zara brushed more of these sticky crumbs off her hair. If that plate had hit her head directly…
“What are we doing, indulging a witch with this joke of a performance?!” shrieked the slanted-eyed, rude girl that Zara almost had the blessing of forgetting about. “She almost attacked me today! She’s definitely the freak everyone suspects her to be!”
Zara gasped. Her husband, a man much older than her with a long face, similarly slanted eyes, and scraggly beard, swooped down and picked up an empty mug. His oily flat hair came down to his shoulders, and his child was busy pulling it. He paid the baby no mind, holding it with one strong arm, and ready to throw the mug with the other.
He’d been the one to start the abusive tosses. More had followed after, mainly food and empty cups, which Zara managed to mostly dodge.
“What if she’s doing magic on us?!” the boy with the orange stripe in his hair exclaimed. “What if that awful dance was her doing black magic?!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Cina screamed out, shoving the boy down. “It’s obviously not—! Hey, STOP! Stop throwing shit! LEAVE HER ALONE, YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT! SHE’S NO WITCH! I WOULD NEVER BE SEEN WITH A FUCKING WITCH!”
Zara was trying to get off the stage with no success. Each way she went she was blocked with Dolly’s taunting friends, forcing her to stay up there. Zara felt her magical energy surge. She wanted to pound these wild faces away.
“She’s a liar, an accomplice!” Zara looked up to see the girl accusing Cina. “That woman over there with the light hair has to be a witch too!”
Zara couldn’t see what was happening to Cina besides hearing her screech some more. After a few more attempts at escaping her own pathetic situation, she gave up, stepped back, and took a deep breath.
The guests had gone mad, now choosing to fight among themselves over whether the gossip was truth or lie. The elders expressed dismay about the engagement celebration being held at this house in the first place, admitting that they’ve felt uncomfortable the entire time they were here. Noina screamed back at them, insisting they were all hypocrites and shouldn’t have come to bless her daughter if they’d felt that way.
Zara’s lip quivered. Her eyes met the witch doctor’s, who had finally come close enough to where the other guests—particularly the ones who were turning around to leave—had noticed. They halted, shocked.
“Silence!”
His command rang out, hard and clear, striking everyone like dominoes. Ironically, it was like seeing magic at work.
The hushed silence did not last. “What?” Cina yelped quizzically. “Uncle, when did you get here?!”
Nima stepped forward. “Brother—?” she started, but one stern look from the man was all it took to keep her quiet. She reached for her husband’s hand, grasping it tightly.
Meanwhile, Zara forced herself to remain at ease. Her magic had built rapidly. She reminded herself of her lessons. Control. Observe. Composure. Her energy needs to expand at its own pace. She must focus on strengthening her innate instincts. Regain clarity.
That smug fool was challenging her. That was why he was here. He and his people were why her life was hell. He was why this town had become so disturbed and divided. He was the true cause for all the death, yet no one dared question him for it. She was dangerously close to becoming his next victim.
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So be it then. She’d challenge him right back. The Sorcerer was here now, steadily watching his apprentice.
The fog slithered onward. The storm rolled in. Zara stepped forward.
The elements would be on her side tonight.
----------------------------------------
She danced gracefully despite the absence of music. Each intentional step on the wooden stage was like a pounding weight against the quiet night. The sudden crack of thunder startled the guests out of their stupor. They shouted and whined, disoriented and afraid of Uqzar’s odd presence and Zara’s bizarre performance. Revan had sensed the storm. Similar to the time on the cliffs, he did nothing but watch. He was prepared, though, in case her magic were to try and strike him.
Her steps made the grass shiver, and her swirling arms made the wind blow quicker. She did a spin, forcing the fogs to expand and morph into a thick, smoky mass.
The rain sprinkled down, vanquishing the remaining candles and lamps that hadn’t already been blown out by the high wind. This lead to more screaming and shouting. Not even the moon was visible to provide these people some much needed sight. Revan blinked to adjust his eyes. It was yet another instance where he wished he had a night creature’s enhanced vision. A bat or an owl would have done nicely.
Zara’s black fog first attacked a family of three—a young woman, a man, and the infant he was holding. The fog wrapped around them and they soon began to choke. The child wailed. The man, scrambling to get himself and the woman away from the smothering cloud, dropped the crying baby on the ground. The wailing immediately stopped.
The rain was pouring down in cold sheets now. The banging thunder had guests scrambling blindly to the house for shelter. Revan could only imagine what the coachmen and their horses back at the gates were dealing with now. The fog continued to consume people. The aunt—Noina was it?—had run past him, her heavy screeches of prayer an ache to his ears. It was difficult to make out where the rest of Zara’s family was in this dark chaos.
How amusing. Whatever Zara had done to this fog was clearly poisonous. Poisonous enough to actually kill, however, was another question that would be answered soon enough.
She went on dancing like all was well, her silhouette like a phantom on the unlit stage. The tent of the stage had blown back, drenching her in rain. She didn’t seem to mind. She gladly danced to the screams of her tortured audience.
The fogs had affected multiple people by now. The rain droplets had turned into shards of ice. The air howled like a hurricane had hit, even though such weather was impossible in these lands.
The witch doctor struggled to stand properly. The hail struck him, and he gave a shout He eventually fell on his knees, sheltering his head with his arms.
Teeth chattering, Revan decided enough was enough. He’d worn a fresh outfit for nothing. He’d thought he’d have to present himself as a guest here and lie about his relations to this family. He hadn’t realized the party would turn into such a wreckage so quickly.
He growled at the mud splattering his nice shirt. He reached into his pant’s pocket and pulled out a small enchanted hourglass with two minutes worth of sand. He flipped it once. The amount of sand in the hourglass had not changed, but now the time would count for four. He flipped it over and over to a total of sixty minutes, recited a spell, then rushed toward the stage.
He passed the witch doctor on his knees, gaping and gasping. He looked like he had truly witnessed Hell for the first time. Revan would chuckle if he wasn’t so preoccupied.
The fogs were creeping closer. He coughed, scraping at the slight burn at his hand. It was like inhaling ash. An ash that scorched the skin.
He rushed through the billowing hail, and mistakenly stepped on a faint body. He felt a bone crack underneath his shoe—likely an arm or leg he’d just trampled on—but there was no time for remorse.
On the stage, Zara’s movements had slowed down as she watched Revan with slight intrigue.
The hail beat on him like pellets. She was the catalyst for such a storm. The world could be her stage.
A shudder of excitement ran down his belly.
No. With her, it will be mine.
He threw the hourglass into the air, releasing the spell. The hourglass shattered. Sixty minutes worth of white sand burst out of the tiny glass, creating a beautiful overhead shower that blocked the black fogs and unforgiving pelts of hail. The soft sand stretched across the sky, sprinkling over every single guest, and even went as far as to touch the panicked coachmen and their horses beyond the front gates.
The screams stopped. The people stilled. The hail transformed back into droplets of rain before ceasing altogether, though Revan hadn’t been responsible for the end of the storm.
He looked at Zara and panted out wearily, “Any more of this, and we likely would have had another quake on our hands.”
Zara stood quietly on the demolished stage, staring back at him. The kohl had bled down her cheeks even worse, making her concentrated gaze look ghoulish. .
“I’m sure it would have been a showstopper,” Revan said. He could manage to joke, even at a terrible time like this.
“It was what I was going for,” Zara replied back blandly.
She was serious.
“You’ve hurt quite a few people.”
She blinked once, then looked beyond him. Her brow twitched, perplexed.
“…What is this?” she whispered, daintily touching her soaked mop of hair. “What are you doing here?”
Revan held out a hand. “Come. We must go.”
“Go where?”
“Away. We are leaving this place.” He beckoned her. “Come with me. I will steal us a carriage out front.”
“Go?” She was getting worked, but it also meant she was coming back to her senses. “Go?!”
He approached her, but she leaped back, almost tripping and falling over the broken wood behind her.
“Careful!” He leaped forward and caught her hand.
She yanked it back, breathing heavily. “No. No. What have I done? Where is everyone? I can’t see…” She froze, and for a moment, Revan wondered whether his spell had delayed and affected her too. He would be ashamed of himself. He hadn’t performed this spell for a long time, but he couldn’t be so rusty that he would make such a stupid error and cast it over someone he hadn’t intended to use it on. This crowd of at least one hundred or so was nothing compared to the groups of thousands he’d frozen in the past. That took much more energy than Zara could even begin to realize. She still had a long way to go.
He managed a sympathetic smile when her eyes flittered back to him. He reached for her hand again, nudging her to come off the stage.
“What did you do?” she mumbled.
Revan glanced back at the human statues. “They’ll be like this for only one hour, Zara. We must leave, quickly.”
“You…made them like this? With the powder? How?”
“It was sand. And I’ll tell you. I’ll even show you. It’s a useful trick to know. Let me help you down first.”
She allowed him to hoist her off the stage. Once she was on solid ground, Zara began to walk hastily, scanning the area. The storm had gone, and the moon was finally shedding its soft light over the hauntingly frozen field of people.
“Be careful,” he warned, “you could step on someone—”
“Are they dead?!”
“No. They’re just still. For now.”
“Why are some of them laying senseless then?”
“…You truly have no memory of what you’ve done.”
“Huh?” Her voice shook. “Where’s my parents? Where’s Dolly?” She stopped in front of something and whimpered fearfully.
Revan sighed. “The senseless people are your own doing. I thought you’d be more in control of yourself by now, honestly. At least, enough to remember your actions. And—what is it now?”
Zara was hunched over on the ground. “The baby…” she whispered.
“Baby?”
Revan peeked over her shoulder. It was the family the fog had gone after first. They were sleeping like the dead. Perhaps they were.
“That toxic fog you conjured choked them.”
“I…yes. I can-I can remember a fog but…are they d-dead?” she sobbed.
Revan checked the pulse of the girl first, and then the man next to her. “I feel their heart. It’s faint, but it’s there. I don’t think the fog’s poison was strong enough to kill anyone here. Their skin looks like it’s suffering from hives though…” He trailed off. The infant was a few feet away, where the father had dropped it during the outbreak. He did not need to check the pulse of the little one to know it was gone.
The neck was twisted.
Zara wailed. “Why?! I didn’t mean it,” she cried out, pitifully.
“Stop this.” He stood and sternly grabbed her shoulder, leading her away.
“Why the baby…?” she blabbered through tears and a ragged breath.
“Calm yourself, it was a mistake. I myself might have broken someone’s bone trying to reach you tonight.”
“I hurt them….I hurt these people…”
“And? What of it? Had they not hurt you first?” he spoke soothingly, weaving his words, his influence, into her mind.
Zara ceased sobbing. Like a fly caught in his web, she was letting him sink his teeth into her waiting flesh.
“You did what you must,” he kept going. “Isn’t that right? They would have done worse to you had they been in your position. Had they had your power, you would have been gone. And see, Zara.” He made a wide gesture out to the motionless crowd. “This is one of our many purposes. We can balance out entire societies this way. Decide between good, and not so good. Humans have never liked it though. They’ve never appreciated what we can do.”
He turned her head to face the witch doctor, to his bulging-eyed expression, as frozen as the rest of him. His arms were extended out in prayer. His soaked turban had partly unraveled from his head.
“Look at him,” he said. “I know how you see him. I felt your heart, listened to your soul. You are right. He’s the reason why the night turned into what it had. He’s the reason that baby is dead. Two innocent children died, Zara, because of him. Not you. This isn’t you.”
The tension left her body.
“This isn’t me,” she repeated softly. “You are right.” She touched his hand. “I…I want to leave. I want to leave this place.”
“As you should. You need to gather your belongings before the spell fades.”
She turned to face him. He’d calmed her down enough, but she was still worried. “Will they know what I did?”
Revan smiled. The sand he’d infused into the hourglass was laced with a potion that will wipe the memory of those inflicted with it. The guests will not remember the entire hour before Revan had tossed the hourglass into the air. However long he’d frozen their time was also how far back their memories would disappear. It happened as soon as the spell struck the air.
“No. They won’t remember your performance, or you being on that stage at all. They are going to wake up very confused. It’s not going to be a pretty sight. We must hurry.”
“Wait.”
“What is it?”
Her eyes had not moved off that man. “Can we…can we at least get rid of him?” she whispered, hesitantly.
Revan shook his head. “You cannot.” He went over to the man, threw off the turban, and knocked on the bald head like it was a door. “They are like solid rocks right now. Within the hour limit, you cannot hurt them, and you cannot kill them. You cannot alter them in this state.”
Zara pouted.
Revan chuckled. “Bad man or not, I don’t think it would be good for you to hurt any more people tonight. Do not worry. His time will one day come.”
Zara stepped up to Uqzar, spat on him, and pushed his rock solid form into the ground, backside up.
On their way back to the house, they passed by Zara’s cousin and the groom, who were fine for the most part. The fogs hadn’t reached them yet, and they were stuck in flailing motion, as they’d been in the middle of running away. Cina and her family had been doing the same, though her father was in mid-slump, like his legs were giving out.
“He was already weak. I feel terrible,” Zara said sadly. “All of their faces are so…”
Amusing? No, to Zara it was terrifying. Upsetting. Enough to cause her guilt. They had all been racing away from her in fear for their lives.
“I’m sorry,” she first told Dolly, then Cina’s unmoving figure. She caressed her friend’s damp, yellow hair. “I’m sorry I’m leaving. I hope to see you again. But for now, this is goodbye.”
The rest of Zara’s family was in similar states of panicked flee. Zara ignored her father, her aunt, and after some reluctance, ignored her mother as well. She stopped in front of her younger brother and his friend. She silently stroked Rowan’s arm and touched the other boy’s cheek. She whispered something to this boy that Revan couldn’t hear, not that it mattered much to him anyway.
He wished she would move faster. He didn’t know how much of her things she wanted to pack, and he knew how disorganized her bedroom was. He did not wish to run out of time. He’d used his sense magic lightly on her, but now he thought that maybe influencing her to move at a faster pace would have better. Her emotions right now were like cactus pricks to his skin.
Nazeer and his wife had suffered like the other fog victims, which at least elevated Zara’s mood a bit. The dancer she had befriended, along with all the other performers and musicians, had also been affected. The scaly rashes on their skin looked quite painful.
“What was in that smoke?” Revan wondered with a chuckle, finally letting himself enjoy the moment.
He also realized then that he had run over and cracked the arm of a redheaded woman. Zara let out a snort.
“You’re laughing?” Revan asked. “At such a situation?”
Zara cleared her throat. “You laughed first. But I shouldn’t be. Um…thanks.”
“For breaking the girl’s arm? Well…I did not mean to do it, but, you’re welcome?”
“She’s a horrible person.” She shook her head. “Wow. The more I think about what you said, the more it makes sense. This was deserved. The baby was a mistake, but, I believe I hurt the right people.”
The displeased horses at the gates grunted and neighed at the sight of the only two other living beings allowed to move. It took Revan five minutes to calm they couple they were taking. They would ride one of the smaller carriages. Zara climbed in with her two bags of belongings, wincing at the wet seats. Revan took the place of coachman after moving the real one out of the way. He took the dripping hat off the coachman’s head, smiling at the fear stuck on his face.
“Don’t look at us like that. It was only a little rain,” he said, tipping the hat at him. He grabbed the reins, and they were on their way. They’d find another carriage—along with a coachman that would keep quiet—tomorrow.
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Come the morning after the engagement ceremony’s end—with its guests battered, damp, chilled to the core, some afflicted with itchy rashes and sore throats, one with broken bones, and two with a child succumbed—the Anvars would find that a large portion of their field beyond the splintered stage had rotted overnight. The crunchy brown decay was an ugly, shameful stain on their home, leaving them no choice but to hire gardeners and field workers to mend it.
They were the town’s raging gossip—a family to fear, curses walking among innocents.
Their daughter, the accused witch, was nowhere to be found. The witch doctor, thoroughly confused of his sudden appearance at the event, insisted that the blame be on her. She’d always been a suspect. And now she was gone. This event just proved foul play.
Sorcery, he said. Evil magic at work. There was no other explanation for it.
“You are sure no one will know it was me?” Zara asked again. The carriage bumped; the road was rougher in these parts. They’d be at the border soon.
Revan chuckled. “I’ll assure you again, they will not remember what you’ve done to them. But I don’t doubt they will match the pieces of their puzzling night and realize you were the one behind it.”
“I was not the only one,” Zara muttered.
“No one else knew I was there.”
Zara exhaled. “It is not my problem anymore. They are not my problem. I will face no consequence for this,” she grumbled to herself.
But Revan was listening. And he smiled at her. “My dear. There will be a consequence. There is, at least one, for every spell.”