As they drew close, S̆arrābi rose to greet them. “I see you brought a gift. A very noisy gift,” he added wryly.

Releasing Jasper’s hand, Kaṣîtūma slid next to her husband, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Now Abī, is that any way to say thank you?” She scolded him. “It was very nice of Yas̆peh to bring a gift.”

The Djinn just grunted, patting her arm fondly as the two sat down together.

Jasper hesitated, unsure where he was supposed to sit. The decision was made for him as a servant pulled a seat back, bowing respectfully. He slipped into the seat, leaning back as the servant promptly covered his lap with a napkin.

The three of them were seated, but his cousin was still playing with the dorēsah. Surprisingly, she had set it free from its cage, but her trust in the bird appeared to be awarded. Although it dashed back and forth across the small pavilion like some sort of deranged Pokemon, the little monster made no attempt to escape. I guess she has a way with animals. “Come, bātīya, sit with us,” S̆arrābī called to her.

With a sigh, the young woman scooped the bird up and, cradling it in her arms, took the seat next to him - a fact he noted through narrowed eyes. This is only a setup for Ihra, right? Right? His reassurances felt a bit hollow.

The four lapsed into an uncomfortable silence as the servants piled food on their plates. Jasper kept sneaking glances down the table toward Ihra. To his surprise, she had recovered her composure. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the group around her appeared positively spellbound. Of course, she could probably read them a phonebook and they’d act interested. Still, he felt a little better about leaving her to her fate. Besides, he had his own to worry about.

“Ahem.” His thoughts were cut off by the sound of his uncle clearing his throat. Tearing his eyes away from the rest of the table, he found the three all staring at him.

“As I was saying, Yas̆peh, I am quite curious to know more about you. What was your world like? What did you do there? What sort of magic do they have?” His aunt leaned forward excitedly, peppering him with one question.

“Um, it’s really not that interesting,” Jasper hemmed, suddenly feeling very put on the spot. He really wasn't in the mood to share much about the world he'd lost, the home that, as far as he knew, he might never be able to return to - especially with practical strangers, even if they were technically his family.

“Perhaps it’s best we don’t speak of it,” S̆arrābī cut in, rather hastily. “The details of his former life contain sensitive information.” S̆arrābī was the last person Jasper expected to save him, but he sent a silent prayer of thanks to his uncle. Unfortunately, his aunt wasn’t so easily dissuaded from her goal.

“Ah, no worries, Abī” she replied cheerfully. “Of course, Yas̆peh shouldn’t discuss anything confidential, but surely there is much he can tell us about his world. You know,” she said contemplatively, turning her gaze back to Jasper, “The elves of Yammaqom have welcomed many travelers over the years who have, in one way or another, been summoned from or wandered away from their own worlds. Last I heard, well over three hundred such worlds were recorded in our libraries. Perhaps yours was the same as one of theirs?”

He hesitated a moment before answering. In truth, it was a possibility that he had often pondered. There had always been rumors of other players disappearing and, given what had happened to him, he could only assume that he wasn’t entirely alone here. There were probably, somewhere out there, other “players” from Earth. But despite that possibility, he had yet to encounter any signs that that had actually happened. Maybe he was interested in his aunt’s information.

“I don’t know. Our planet’s just called Earth, I guess, or if you are one of those crunchy, New Age types, Gaia, maybe?”

His aunt squinted her eyes. “Gaia? Isn’t that the Halabite name for Ummaddamah?”

She glanced around the table as if looking for confirmation. S̆arrābī patted her hand fondly. “Only you would know, my dear.”

She frowned, bobbing her head in assent. “You're right, of course. So this Earth of yours, what is it like?”

The dinner passed by in a blur as Lady Kaṣîtuma pelted him with one question after another. At first, Jasper took her interest for mere curiosity. The elf was a genius at keeping the conversation flowing, and her cheery pleasantness quickly put him at ease. But as the dinner progressed, he slowly realized a very keen mind lurked behind her bright eyes, a mind that was carefully and methodically wriggling all manner of information out of him. She’s interrogating me, he realized - though it was by far the most genial interrogation he had ever heard of, her touch so subtle that he had almost failed to even realize what was happening.

S̆anukkat, on the other hand, was as silent as a tomb. She fussed over the little bird like it was a child, but barely touched her food, complaining she wasn’t feeling well when her father pushed her to eat.

She also barely glanced in his direction, even when his aunt dragged the details out of him of some of his more exciting adventures, such as the Whispers in the darkness or the horror that stalked the forgotten city beneath the streets of Dūr-Yarha. Even when her mother tried to pull her into the conversation, she offered no more than the bare minimum reply.

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Jasper found himself stealing glances at her from time to time, curious about the sulking girl next to him; her demeanor didn't seem to match the party girl reputation Annatta had mentioned. The half-Djinn was legitimately stunning. Save for the slightly twisted black horns that rose a few inches above her ears, she clearly favored her mother’s genes with pale skin unfit for the hot, sun-baked climate and delicate, flaxen hair. He had no doubt that many a man would melt beneath her smiles, but tonight, at least, there were no smiles to be seen. If it is a setup, she’s definitely not interested. Neither was he, of course, but silly as it was, it was hard not to feel a *touch* offended at being totally ignored. Hey, I’m not that ugly.

Perhaps the most surprising revelation of the dinner, though, was his uncle. In the few weeks since he had first met him, Jasper still hadn’t spent that much time with the man. To a large extent, that was by his own choice. S̆arrābī was a truly intimidating character. While he didn’t come close to matching the sheer size and brawn of the Seraph men, the Djinn was certainly no mewling cub. A certain ever-present sense of danger emanated from the man, and while Jasper recognized it was a bit prejudiced of him, the Djinn’s jet-black teeth, massive horns, and tough red skin likely played a role in his perception of his uncle. He looked like a devil - a very sophisticated, eastern-influenced devil, perhaps - but a devil nonetheless. And quite frankly, the fact that Jasper was slowly transforming in that direction did little to calm his dislike. He had a hard time admitting it to himself, but when he looked at his uncle, he was afraid that he was looking at his future self.

And he hated it.

But a totally different Djinn sat at the table tonight. In the company of his wife and daughter, the man was warm and witty. The quick temper that constantly lurked just beneath the surface in their previous actions was nowhere to be seen as the man leaned back in his chair with a relaxed smile. And the look in his eyes as he watched his wife - there was no mistaking the genuine devotion there. Clearly, this isn’t just a marriage of convenience, he realized. It was a side of his uncle he hadn't realized existed, and it brought a small measure of comfort to him. He isn't a devil.

By the time the last of the dishes were cleared from the table, the sun was drooping low over the distant peaks. The servants had set out rows of paper lanterns around the pavilion - magic being too valuable to waste on conveniences that could be just as easily achieved with a candle - whose light softly danced along the stone panels as the shadows grew longer and longer. He slumped back in his chair, as thoroughly stuffed as any Thanksgiving, but there was no chance for a little football-infused nap here.

His aunt rose from her seat, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she clapped her hands together. “And now for the main event of the night.”

S̆arrābī must have eaten as much as Jasper, as he shook his head with a groan. “Not tonight, my love - surely we can do it some other night.”

Kaṣîtuma mock pouted, grabbing his hand playfully. “Oh, and what night would that be? I think you just don’t want to come with us. I’ll make it worth your time.” The Djinn shook his head, starting to protest, but stilled as the elf bent her lips to his ears. She muttered something too low for Jasper to hear. A moment later, his uncle shot to his feet with a not-too-subtle grin on his lips. “On second thought, I’ll come too.”

With a victorious gleam in her eyes, she clapped her hands again, this time much harder. The sound echoed across the little pavilion like a clap of thunder, and the hubbub on the other side of the table stopped, all eyes turning to her.

“Thank you, my lords, for joining us tonight, but now I’m afraid I must steal the elf away from you.” A few grumbles arose from the nobles, but she chased them away with a smile. “Don’t worry - I’m sure Lady Ihra will be happy to see you again, but the primary purpose of this night is for a ritual welcoming my dear nephew to the family and the time for the ritual is fast approaching. Whenever you're ready to leave, the servants will fetch your mounts.”

His aunt didn't bother to wait for their reaction. Spinning on her heel, she headed into the shaded gardens that bordered the pavilion, accompanied by her husband and daughter.

Bewildered, Ihra jogged up to Jasper, who hadn't risen from his chair. “A ritual? What is she talking about?”

“No idea," he shook his head. "She certainly didn’t say anything about a ritual to me-“

“Yas̆peh,” his aunt’s voice echoed from the quickly encroaching darkness. “Come on - we have much to do before the night is finished!”

A moment later, the two of them were jogging down the path to catch up to the others. A ritual? A wedding’s a ritual, right? He quickly banished the offending thought from his mind. He’d rather experience Aphora’s ritual again than that. Hell, with my luck, it’s like a 50/50 chance she’s really a cultist who wants to eat my soul. He didn’t think his uncle would allow that, though, not to the child of his beloved lost sister. Probably not?

Their destination became clear as the bright sails Jasper had spied through the trees earlier came into sharper focus.

A magnificent yacht rested at the dock. It wasn’t enormous, at least not by Earth standards, perhaps no more than a touch over forty feet if Jasper had to guess, but the ship was a thing of beauty. Crafted from a pale lavender wood that Jasper recognized as the wood of the warodim tree and covered in fine ivory inlays, the whole ship glowed in the gathering gloom, lit by dozens of delicate lanterns which hung along its sides and from its twin masts. The air had quickly cooled as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, but the water was still warm from the heat of the day. Thick tendrils of fog rose from the lake's surface and coiled around the boat, forming an image that was equal parts ethereal and eerie.

His aunt paused at the base of the ramp, gesturing at the beautiful ship with a beaming smile. “Welcome to my pride and joy, Yas̆peh - the greatest thing I’ve ever made.” Her eyes softened as she looked at her daughter. “Well, the second greatest thing,” she amended.

Jasper was genuinely impressed as he swept his gaze from stern to bow, taking in every facet of the impeccably crafted vessel. “Wow, you built this boat yourself?”

“Not every board and plank,” she explained, “but I designed it and personally crafted all the important pieces.” As she led them on board, she pointed to the lanterns that hung from every surface. “Like each of these lanterns. Each one has a unique design that honors one of the named Spectral Spiders.”

He bent close to one of them, examining the fine detail as he tried to remember what he knew about the Spectral Spiders. Lesser gods, servants of Selene, something to do with fate. His well of information quickly ran dry, but he had no time to linger as his aunt swept down the deck, continuing her spiel. While his aunt gave him the grand tour of her boat, a small crew cast off from the dock and, trimming the sails, set the ship’s course into the heart of the fog.