They always told her to be wary of the ocean, of the two great seas that surrounded her homeland. For most of her childhood, she regarded the sea with an aura of mystery and reverence. She knew about the dangers of drowning beneath the waves, and of swimming too far out. The sea called out to her regardless of the warnings passed from parent to child, ancestor to descendant. It was a strange life, she knew, but she could not accept any other form of existence.

When she first entered the sea, it was out of boredom. Something about the mundanity of life, or was it the couscous she had that day? The moment she stepped into the sea, it was as if she had found a purpose in her life. She knew that most people found their purpose later in life, yet she wanted that purpose now. Thinking back on it, it must have been that childish instinct to have everything right then and there. That explained it well enough. That cerebral purpose entered her mind the moment her knees were submerged in the water. Its intent strengthened and moulded itself in her mind as she released herself from the soft wet sand. As her hair streamed around her, she found a watery world waiting beneath her. She wanted to explore longer, and so she returned time and time again. Soon, her mama found out and reluctantly explained everything, especially about Baba.

Now, her bare feet wriggled into the warm sand. She hated shoes. They were uncomfortable, and she felt a tingling sensation when she wore them that itched and numbed her. Here, she didn’t have to wear shoes. The green waves reached as far inland as where her hair trailed off. The ocean was green, a rich green that she would observe in faraway pictures of similarly faraway places. She had no desire to travel the world, only to explore the sea’s depths to her heart’s desire. The sea, ever the fickle one, had become more fickle and capricious over the years. Calamities birthed from its depths had devastated the coastlines of many countries that bordered it. The ocean too had become treacherous, driving sailors and pilots alike to familiar haunts, away from the chaos of an open ocean. It was different in her dreams, the sky a darkly hued violet and as peaceful as the gentle waves underneath her, just as she made them.

She stood up, just as the waves rushed in and receded just as quickly. The footprints she left behind were small but sturdy, every step measured and controlled. Her feet picked up more and more, and soon she was swept into the rhythm of the sea, those pounding waves and the call of a long lost heart. A dancer’s body, they told her, a dancer’s body fit for the movement of the drums, a shikha’s body with hips and feet to shuffle, a shikha for the rolling waves and the tumultuous tides.

One day, something else called. In a trance, she followed its desperate calls and into the depths she dove. Through the seaweed and the darting schools of fish, she found it. It fit into the palm of her hand and seemed to be lost. They were both lost, so she stayed there with it. Everyone wanted companionship, she thought, so she gave it her friendship and time. In return, it gave her abilities beyond her dreams.

When they pulled her out of the water, it had been five hours since she had been swept away into the sea’s embrace.

She had been young when the Calamity hit the shores, sweeping away many, including the man who would have been her baba. If a Calamity hit again, a Calamity brutal enough to end the world in a swift and decisive stroke, would she embrace it like the sea embraced her all those years ago? She had always thought that her purpose was clear. Now, the amulet she held in her hand had given her more to think about.

Here was her home. Her home was torn apart by a Calamity bringing waves the size of which she could not fathom, dragging hapless animals and people into its hungry maw. There were bodies broken upon the sand. Whether she knew them, she refused to ascertain. The tainted knowledge would only have burdened her steps more. She walked slowly, looking for signs of life. Somewhere in her heart of hearts, she knew that there were none here, and none anywhere else no matter how far she walked or swam. Farther away, the great shadow of a cargo ship run aground created a foreboding atmosphere. Splinters of wood were scattered across the beach. The water seeped between her feet, reaching further than it should have been. In this desolate landscape, the wind tore at her face, wild and free. The choppy waves forbade passage to her, so she was stuck amidst the ruined coastline. Her amulet trilled in her hand. She carried all of the dashed hopes and unrealised dreams of this world, but she wished that she never did.

What the amulet had revealed to her…it changed everything. Looking back at the deluge that cost so many lives before and after…nothing was the same, and yet somehow…her purpose was clearer now.

Save the world from the Calamities.

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In the early summer, tourists migrated to a small village close to the Atlantic Ocean. It was nice, the sea making for a mood-setting atmosphere. The locals were charming, some pleasant enough and able to speak the many languages of these tourists. Others were…others were others.

The village was nameless. Either that, or there was a name long forgotten to the river of time. Regardless, the community was tight-knit. The population was small, roughly within the range of a hundred or two hundred. They were close to the capital, enough that a decent number of the younger population had visited and found the capital or their village wanting. That was not what attracted the local and foreign visitors here.

It was the dancers. A small subset of the population were dancers, ranging from wise middle-aged women to young adults in the blossom of their youth. They were more of an attraction for foreigners than those who lived in the country. Everyone was used to it by this point in time. Most of them were their sisters or daughters.

Today, all were gathered around a raised platform set up for showcasing the dancers. The musicians took the stage first, setting up their drums and kemanjeh. The crowd shuffled in anticipation. A young man was watching the dancers going up the stage, grumbling about some of the leering men. He relaxed when the performance started.

The performance started with the shuffling of feet, the dance enticing those with their melodious vocals and swaying hips. The dancers were moved by the drums’ beat, carrying the harmony of some long-forgotten past, back when there was only the constant sea, the mountains, and the sand. The stage moved with the dancers’ hips. Their singing was enchanting to the visitors, as some broke formation and shimmied to the floor, slowly undulating to a standing position again. A dancer whipped her waist-length hair now and then, flashing a smile to the charmed audience. Finally, with the end of the swaying sleeves and the shimmies across the stage, the performance ended. As the dancers shuffled off, another dancer in green took the stage. This one was young, with half of her hair covering her face and a large purple belt hanging on her hips. She took one look at the crowd and steadied herself. She listened, heard the start of the drums, and her bare feet leapt for the stage.

She danced like the world was going to end tomorrow, giving her performance a finesse and power unseen before. Her feet swept across the stage like waves overtaking the land. The gold jewellery entangled in her hair clanked and mingled together with each movement of her head as she whipped it fiercely, scattering light everywhere. Her arms pulled her enthralled audience into her performance as her chest rippled outwards and inwards, drowning them in an undertow. She shimmied across the stage, bringing the audience to a crescendo with her liquid footwork on the wooden stage. The large belt on her hips bounced back as she belly dropped from the stage and slowly ascended upwards like a rising wave, just as she practised for five years. The green caftan waved in between each spin as the young dancer rotated around herself, back and forth and back and forth, just like her forbearers. At the very last second, she swept away her sleeves and unveiled a sparkling amulet shining with seawater. The young man got up from his seat and was about to say something when the shikha whispered some words and the stage was enveloped in sea-green light.

Once everyone was done, they found that all of them from those at the very edge of the crowd to the ones standing closest to the stage were soaked in seawater, some of whom had started to leave to spit out the aforementioned water. On the stage was the young dancer in a sea-green outfit that flowed around her. A choker hung around her neck with heart-shaped sections floating in a nonexistent wind. Her bare feet touched the stage, and she danced further. That billowing outfit wowed and dazzled the crowd with its wave-like movements, except for the young man who held his head in his hands. For her finale, she summoned two balls of water beside her. Those two balls then diffused into shining streams as she rotated in quick succession, diving with her and encircling her waist. All applauded for the young dancer once she was finished and the water fell onto the stage. She waved back and walked off the stage to the young man’s disappointed face.

“What were you thinking?! Mama hid the truth from you for a reason, a very good reason I might add! You can’t pull out this trick every time! What if this gets posted to social media?”

“Relax Samir, I’m sure we are safe and secure here. It is only used for one or two shows.” She stood up. “I’m responsible for myself. Anything that happens because of my actions is on me.”

Samir grumbled and facepalmed. “Can you change so no one else notices?”

The dancer mumbled something underneath her breath and detransformed. She strolled alongside Samir. “How is your pen pal?”

“He’s doing well. Being back in Lisbon and unwinding is doing him good. He said my Portuguese is getting better.” Samir beamed. Samir with his stern face softened by his sister.

She smiled. “That’s nice—Huh?”

SNAP. A camera clicked to the surprise of the girl and Samir.

“Hello.” The girl, despite her prowess at dancing, never had any admirers.

A face poked behind the camera, eyes staring. “Hello to you too.”

“May I ask why you are taking pictures of me?” She looked at the camera, sleek and shiny. “Can I see them?”

It was a boy and his camera, silver and steady. “I was watching you dance today. It was…beautiful. I thought about taking some action shots, but I couldn’t find any good angles. I thought that once the performance was over, I could ask you for pictures…I should have asked first.”

She waved her hand. “It’s fine. What’s your name?”

“I’m Khalid, I live in Casablanca like the movie!” The girl was confused. “Oh sorry, I’m used to introducing myself this way. I like old American movies, and my roommate does as well.”

“Where did you live?”

“I was studying at a private school in America until last month when the school year ended. I’ve been touring all of Morocco until I have to go back to school.” He clicked on his camera. “These are the photos of you.”

Samir approached him, towering over him like a statue carved from hard stone. The girl watched as Khalid scrolled through his gallery. There were blurred shots of her, and the other dancers, and clearer ones of her. Her with those eyes, those sea green eyes that enchanted and enthralled, or so her mama said.

“Do you like them?” he asked.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“What’s your name?”

Samir gave her that look, but Khalid, Khalid with the pleading eyes and the sleek and shiny camera deserved an answer. “My name is Nahla.”

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When she was younger and met enough Mohammeds that she could not distinguish between them, she asked her mama how she could remember every Mohammed.

“No one names their child only Mohammed. They usually give them two names to distinguish them from the other Mohammeds.”

Nahla tried, but she forgot their names in time. Even with the second names attached did not help. Her solution was to ascribe to every person she met a set of characteristics based on their appearance, demeanour, and behaviour. It helped her remember everyone, like how Samir had eyes that laughed as he read his friend’s latest letter or how Mama trembled as the waves splashed against the shore. Mohammed with the glinting eye for rare wares, Mohammed with the voice that promised breathless ecstasy, Mohammed with the delicate spider-like fingers…

Khalid was new, a breath of fresh air amidst salt and rocks. He looked through the world with eyes of glass, polished and sharpened with a clarity and focus that Nahla had not encountered before. Most of his photos were stored in scrapbooks kept at his home, or lovingly framed. He carried around both digital and film cameras that printed out strange images that absorbed colour the longer it was waved under the sunlight. Khalid mentioned something about a dark room to develop film at home as well.

He gifted her a bouquet of irises the next day. That resided on a shelf in a pot refilled with water daily. Nahla made sure it was freshwater. Samir was unimpressed with the bouquet and pointed out that the flowers would wither and die in a week.

The day after that, she performed a private dance for Khalid while Samir sat beside him. She didn’t use the amulet; best to save it for a larger audience. Afterwards, Khalid congratulated her and showed her some action shots that he snapped while she was lost in the flowing currents of the dance. When he returned tomorrow, he promised he would have all of the photos printed.

He kept his promise and invited Nahla for a sojourn into a local souk in Casablanca. She accepted. Samir accompanied them, and Nahla bought a bracelet made of raw pearls that fit snugly around Khalid’s wrist. Khalid admired the gift and sprinted off, ostensibly to find Nahla another gift. He returned with beef kebabs still smoking.

Nahla and Khalid were snacking on their fresh kebabs, with Khalid smiling as he took a bite. Samir positioned himself between them and alternated between keeping an eye on them, eating his kebab, and reading his book. The delicious taste of the kebab was savoured by Nahla.

“Have you lived here your entire life?” Khalid asked, looking over Samir’s outstretched legs.

Today, they were at the coast, where the waves lapped the boys’ pants and Nahla’s skirt. Nahla was enjoying the fresh ocean breeze, Samir was intent on finishing chapter thirty-four of his book, and Khalid was taking landscapes and panoramas of the Atlantic coast.

“Yes I have,” she responded, letting the saltwater tickle her feet.

“That must be nice. The last time I was here before this month was after I graduated the ninth grade. My baba…he’s distant. We talk every four months.” He took a snapshot of a passing bird.

Nahla looked at Samir and whispered, “Can I tell him?”

“About what?”

“About Baba.”

“...no.”

Nahla accepted the answer and watched Khalid take photos of the scenery. She felt sorry for Khalid and his distant baba. Did he have a mama? Or was she long dead like Samir’s baba? She remembered nothing of the man. He would have been her baba, had he lived. Samir could recall a man with a talent for fishing and who was always willing to ruffle his hair whenever he pouted as a child. Samir’s baba swam on occasion, but not at the skill where he would’ve survived a Calamity. A Calamity as fierce and raging as the one that the village was caught in, heaving heavy rain and driving massive waves tall enough to swallow date trees and buildings whole would have left no survivors. If it weren’t for a select group of twelve, the village would not have evacuated in time. Samir’s baba was among those twelve. One of his accomplishments during that time was finding a baby drifting amidst the roaring waves and diving in to save her. Paddling to shore, he found the baby a safe place in his wife’s arms before being torn away by the currents in front of his family’s eyes.

If she ever met him, she owed him a thank you for saving her all those years ago.

“Do you want to go swimming?” Nahla pointed at the sea, which was calm, scattering light across its surface.

“Yes!” Khalid replied with a brightness in his eyes.

Samir was about to respond, took a look at Khalid’s enthusiasm, and decided on an answer. “Sure.”

As per usual, Nahla dove to the bottom, watching as Samir cautiously observed Khalid practising his strokes. She giggled as Khalid splashed Samir with a wave generated by his arm. Samir responded by smacking a powerful wave towards the cheerful boy. They immediately launched into a war, leaving Nahla smiling at the depths. She had hoped that they would get along.

Do you like both of them?

Nahla nodded, floating upwards in a circle. It would have been nicer if she had a tail.

The amulet is still by your side.

That’s right, it was.

Show them the power of the ocean. It’s better than their measly attempts at waves.

She nodded. Who was she to deny the ocean itself? She summoned the words to transform, bubbles rising from her mouth as water surged beneath her. Suddenly, Samir and Khalid were being pushed back to shore by a powerful wave. Samir groaned as he noticed the girl with a fishtail at the bottom of the ocean. Khalid took pictures of the enormous wave before being soaked by the wave.

“Yay for waterproof cameras!” he shouted.

Nahla washed up ashore later, her hair drenched and hanging loosely on her right side. Samir called it a day and escorted Nahla back home. Khalid headed back to a car undamaged by Calamities or any sort of weather. The two waved goodbye before the car sped off into the afternoon.

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That night, Nahla found herself in a watery world, as always. A door arose out of the depths. That was surprising, Nahla thought. It was usually multiple doors. At most, there would be twelve. This door was made of a silky material that rippled when Nahla touched it. She pulled and twisted on the doorknob and entered the dream.

She beheld a darkened sky, with streaks of violet breaking up the monotonous blackness. Shards of glass floated in the sky, each one a still frame of something. There were many shards with her face imprinted upon them. The ground was made of the same dark material as the sky, that rippled as she stepped on it. Khalid was sitting on a chair surrounded by a belt of glass. Nahla pushed away some of the shards.

“Khalid?” He was distant, staring down at the dark ground.

Khalid straightened his back. “Nahla?”

Is he alright? She twirled around, letting the glass shards catch on her flowing ribbons. This was a nightmare, she thought, he would prefer a happier dream.

“I can give you a different dream.” She waited for a response.

“Wait what?”

She cast off the dreary sky, leaving it to be devoured by moonlight. The ground beneath her was transformed into a pale yellow sand that crinkled between her toes. She summoned the ocean next, the scent of the sea rushing into her nose. The water washed away the chair Khalid was sitting on, leaving him wet as the tide overcame him. He spat out seawater.

“I’m in a dream?” he asked.

“Yes, you are dreaming.”

“Or is this your dream and I’m being dreamt about…” Khalid stared at her. “That’s the same outfit you wore at the end of your dance.”

She drifted off. The glass shards were photos, she realised. There was a panorama of the beach where they were today, exquisitely capturing every detail, from the grains of the sand to the hairs of their heads. The other shards yielded the same level of detail. She flicked one, sending it spiralling. It was gorgeous, she thought.

“You like taking pictures.” She should ask why he was having a nightmare, but she refrained from doing so. If he wanted to share, he would do so on his own time. “They’re beautiful and so detailed.”

“Ummmm, yes I do.” Khalid stared at the world around him. “And you like to dance.”

“Yes.” She stepped closer to him and twirled.

“Would you like to dance? With me,” he clarified. His voice so sure in the daytime sounded meek and feeble at night.

She smiled. “One dance.”

Khalid tried to replicate her style of dance as best as he could. He had experience dancing, but not the kind that Nahla was an expert in. More than once, he fell face first into the sand, picking himself up. He was getting better, she noted, although he kept falling every time he tried to do a belly drop. It probably didn’t help that every time she smiled, a wave would roll over him, leaving him with a mouth full of seawater and wet sand.

After he completed three shimmies, Khalid decided to relax.

“This was a nice dream.” He looked at Nahla. “Am I lucid dreaming?”

“Yes you are.” Would he accept that she can explore the dreams of other people?

“If I am, well this was a nice dream.” He sighed. “Next time, I’ll teach you how to dance.”

“Next time.” The door had reappeared again.

She opened it.

When she woke up, she must have been smiling since Samir was staring at her from the doorway.

“You entered his dream, didn’t you?”

She smiled wider. “It was a nice dream.”

“Please tell me you didn’t change anything.” One look confirmed his worst fears. “Why would you do that?! What did you do?”

“I changed it to a beach.” That was a sufficient answer.

As Samir walked off with a stormy look in his eyes, Nahla watered the irises. They were still alive and thriving.

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Days passed. Khalid hadn’t shown up in a while. Nahla performed on the stage twice, neither performance requiring a transformation. Samir finished his book, wrote another letter to his Portuguese pen pal, and was now attempting to grow a beard. His progress amounted to a few thick bristles that itched him and more than a few teases from the men of the village. Nahla thought it would take longer. A month or two at least.

After the third performance, Nahla and Samir were discussing the merits of teaching men to dance when they found Khalid’s silver car parked nearby. The doors slid open to reveal Khalid waving from the backseat.

“Nahla!” Khalid ran up to her, only stopping short of Samir’s glare. “I was looking for you!”

He was? Where had he been these past few days?

“I wanted to invite you to a party.”

“Where is this party? Who’s at this party?” Samir asked, a sharp edge in his voice.

“The party’s at my house.” Khalid was visibly nervous. “My father invited a lot of people, and I was hoping that Nahla would join me.”

A minute of silence filled the air. Nahla looked to Samir with his dagger-like stare and then to Khalid with his pleading eyes. “We need a minute.”

Samir and Nahla walked off to the stage, far away from Khalid.

“Please tell him no. I don’t trust him.” Samir sighed. “You’ve only known him for a week.”

“And in his dreams,” responded Nahla.

“Did he know it was you?”

A pause. “No.”

“Then it doesn’t count. We also never met his father. We don’t know what he is like.”

“If we meet him, we can tell if he is nice or not.” Although judging from Khalid’s mentions of him casted an ill shadow on him.

“If you are truly wanting to go to this house, I’m coming with you. You can’t ask me to leave, and you will not be spending time with Khalid alone.”

Nahla accepted those conditions. Why would she argue with her brother?

She told Khalid with his bright eyes like the sun her answer. Afterwards, she kept smiling to herself as she tended to the irises.

A day later, she wasn’t surprised when a limousine was parked directly in front of the village. Samir peeked inside.

“These flowers are a waste of money,” he grumbled.

Irises of all colours filled the limousine. Blue, purple, red, orange, yellow, black, white, peach, rose, all were placed around the limousine. Nahla found the fridge stocked with kiwis and took one. She offered a kiwi to Samir, but he declined.

The holographic displays that peppered the limousine informed Nahla and Samir that their destination would be reached in one minute. She looked out of the window and suppressed a desire to drag Samir to the windows. Khalid’s house was massive, the size of ten houses squeezed in together, and decorated with tall white pillars. Peering out Samir’s side of the window revealed two rectangular pools, neatly trimmed hedges, a few date and palm trees, and a veritable gaggle of women conversing amongst themselves. The limo parked itself inside a discrete room close to one of the pillars. It was still larger than her house. Streams of cool air poured out of what Nahla believed to be small vents, although she couldn’t observe where they were located. Samir’s face remained as still as the undisturbed surface of a pond, though Nahla could tell that he was equally astonished by Khalid’s house as she was. She looked for Khalid, before the doors suddenly slid open and a trail of gold coloured lights lit up from the doors to an entrance glowing in the same gold light.

“The entrance to the house is this way. Before you go, would you like a change of clothes?” A soothing female voice echoed.

Another gold light blinked and dissipated to reveal an entire rack of dresses, blouses, shirts, and formal pants. Nahla decided on a light green floor length kaftan with embroidered gold swirls and loosely fitting short sleeves. That way, she thought, she could hide her bare feet from the partygoers. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like there were any suitable shirts and pants for Samir. After asking the electronic voice and being given private spaces to change, Samir emerged with a freshly pressed navy blue djellaba and black babouches. He refused a matching fez.

Now that both were ready to enter the house, Samir knocked on the wall. It briefly shined a golden light before enveloping them. When she reopened her eyes, she was amazed by the amount of people inside the house. Women in colourful kaftans greeted Samir and Nahla and talked amongst themselves. Men walked around the tiled room, content with chatting amongst themselves. Who Nahla assumed to be Khalid’s family’s servants were busy carrying trays and passing off drinks to unattentive guests. A man of European descent was cooking something in front of an astonished crowd. Nahla searched the room looking for any signs of Khalid. Meanwhile, Samir was fending off interest from many women who were intent on asking him about who he was.

“Let’s head outside,” he stated.

Nahla agreed. There were too many people here.

Outside was nicer and Nahla could breathe more easily. The Sun was shining down on the guests. Every time that Nahla or Samir felt hot, they were sprayed with a cooling mist from various stations located around the garden. It definitely kept them cool. There were also stations placed around the garden where it would automatically fan you as well. Nahla still couldn’t find Khalid, but she found a girl that seemed to be lost and looking for directions. She tapped Samir on the shoulder and whispered that she was going to that girl. He shrugged.

The girl was not from Casablanca, or Rabat, or anywhere in Morocco based on how pale she was. She wore a green kaftan with short sleeves, but Nahla was more interested in her hair and how it managed to be so curly and thick.

The girl noticed Nahla’s interest in her and greeted her with a « Bonjour. »

« Bonjour ! » Nahla greeted her. « Comment ça va ?

— Ça va bien, et vous ?

— Ça va très bien. Comment vous appelez-vous ?

— Je m'appelle Dulce Catalina Cabrera Vidal. Comment vous appelez-vous ? »

Was Nahla supposed to introduce herself with her full name? She had never had a conversation this long with anyone in French. Samir was busy watching something, so Nahla had to make a decision. Probably her full name…wait…sure.

« Je m’appelle Nahla al-Rahim. » She hoped that was good.

Dulce appeared surprised. « Enchantée—attention ! »

Nahla looked around as Samir hollered at her and grabbed her arm as two people in the middle of a fight barrelled towards them, destroying the hedges in their path.

— Você idiota miserável com cara del pau, por que caralho você nos trouxe aqui?! – One of the girls shouted at the other one.

— É para o relaxamento de nossas almas e mentes, e esse gentil cavalheiro teve a decência de oferecer sua casa a esses pobres perdidos que precisavam desesperadamente de descanso. – The other girl responded in what Nahla thought was a melodic voice.

« Que disent-elles ? » Nahla asked Dulce. It sounded familiar.

“A gentleman invited them to this house.” Samir fixed his gaze towards Dulce. “Do you know who exactly invited you to this house?”

Dulce asked nervously. « Qu’est-ce qu’il a dit ?

— Il m'a expliqué qu'un homme vous a invités chez ici. » Nahla responded.

Dulce was about to respond when Khalid appeared in front of them, a camera hanging around his neck.

“Nahla, you made it! Oh Samir made it too, I thought he was going to stay home. Welcome to my house!” Khalid waved at the gardens, the trees, and the massive yellow house.

Nahla just nodded. “You have a nice house!”

Samir gave Khalid a death glare. Khalid wilted from the piercing intensity.

Dulce was standing there, accepting a beverage from a nearby waiter.

“Who are these people?” Samir gestured at the tall girl with the dark brown hair picking leaves and twigs out of it, and the girl in the kaftan and golden boots. Nahla was surprised that the girl in the boots wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Guests! My father invited them, but I think that Dulce and Nahla might share some common interests. Dulce paints as a hobby, and she wants to someday sell her paintings. She speaks three languages: Spanish, French, and English. Her friends are named Felícia and—” Khalid turned towards Dulce. “Your friend that showed up in an orange outfit, what was her name?”

“Her name is the…Summoner of the Sun.” Dulce replied.

“Thank you.” Khalid cleared his throat. “We don’t know her name. She speaks for all of them and accepted my father’s invitation to the party on their behalf.”

That girl was marching up to them. « Salutations, nos hôtes agréables et plaisants. Ceci s'emploie le nom : Évocatrice du Soleil. Ceci vous remercie tellement pour votre réception chaleureuse et vos offrandes de sanctuaire ainsi que du répit tant que ce servante humble en a besoin. Son voyage destiné sera périlleux et rempli de menaces. Les ténèbres se cachent partout : dans chaque recoin et renfoncement. Soyez prudents. Que la Lumière vous guide vers la voie de sécurité, de la paix et d'honnêteté. » She held out her gloved hand, her confident smile as bright as the Sun.

Nahla shook her hand. She barely understood French, even with what middle school and tourists had taught her, but the Sun Summoner seemed to be amiable. Was she wearing a golden mask? No one else was wearing one. The Summoner with the golden mask concealing her face, how mysterious and otherworldly and enchanting. What a dashing face she must have underneath, Nahla thought.

Samir was watching the other girl, Felícia, brush off the leaves and twigs stuck to her brown djellaba. She seemed intent on glaring at every person who gawked at the sight of her, like Samir.

« Bonjour ! » Nahla greeted the girl with stringy dark hair.

Felícia stared at Nahla. It’s so similar to how Samir glared at people, she thought. Would they get along with each other? Maybe she also liked books.

— Quem você deveria ser? – Felícia asked in an inquisitively harsh tone.

— Ela é minha irmã. – Samir responded in an equally harsh tone.

They glared into each other’s eyes, the tension between the two growing ever so slightly and making those around them nervous. Nahla took notice of Felícia’s wiry frame, barely filling the djellaba. After a few moments of intense staring, Samir and Felícia broke into a fierce and clipped conversation, their tone and pitch evolving from terse and clipped to curious and relaxed. Her eyes were lively and full of laughter when her face softened, Nahla noticed. Felícia with the laughing golden brown eyes quick to humour and daggers alike, the Summoner with her white gold mask revealing everything and nothing, Dulce with her striking appearance and an artist’s delicate speech…Khalid’s father had far reaching connections. Khalid was tapping her on the shoulder, nodding over to a nearby palm tree close to Samir. She followed him, gingerly grinning at the thought of being alone for a little while.

“I apologise for not greeting you in the garage, my baba wanted me to meet a few people and talk to them.” He sighed. “I invited you here because I want to get to know you better.”

Oh, that made sense. “Thank you for the kiwis, those are my favourite food. I’m surprised that the kaftans were fitted perfectly for me.”

Khalid’s smile brightened. “I guessed at your measurements to be honest. My seamstress made all of the kaftans that were displayed for you.”

His seamstress made all of that? Wait, he had a seamstress for himself?! “They’re beautiful!”

“I will let her know about your praise.” Nahla noticed that he was wearing the raw pearl bracelet she gave him. Something inside her warmed at the thought and she felt her cheeks grow hot.

“Thank you for inviting me here Khalid, and for the flowers and the limo.” Now that she was thinking about it…his family owned a limo.

“You’re welcome Nahla! You can come here at any time!” Khalid realised what he said. “Ummm, yeah, as long as I can clear it with my baba.”

Seeing his shoulders sag, Nahla wanted him to cheer up. “I haven’t met your baba, but this distance between you two, maybe talking about it and how it makes you feel to him will repair the distance.” She stopped herself. “Are you fine with me giving you advice? If I overstepped—”

“No no, it’s alright.” Khalid appeared to be deep in thought. “I’ll think about it.”

A watch on his left hand beeped. Khalid checked it, his expression becoming marred with worry. Samir was also approaching them, a look of fury on his face.

“Nahla, we’re going. And you,” He pointed at Khalid. “Stay away from my sister.”

“You two can’t leave.” Khalid held up his watch. “There’s a Calamity heading towards Casablanca. Some of the guests are heading back home where they will be protected from the Calamity. The rest are sheltering with us.” A Calamity? Her feet had turned to lead.

“What protections do you have against a Calamity?”

As if to answer Samir’s question, a buzzing noise emanated from outside the outer hedges. Suddenly, the house, the gardens, and the pools were surrounded by a massive shield that covered all under a transparent dome.

— O que está acontecendo aqui? – Felícia asked, looking around hurriedly.

Samir started translating as Khalid explained the dome. “It’s a Calamity shield. We had these recently installed. It should protect against all weather related Calamities, which according to this app, it is.” Khalid’s face briefly flashed with shock. “Stay here, please.”

“What about my village?” Poor mama, if she saw this again…after everything that had happened eighteen years ago.

Khalid rushed off to talk to a security guard, and returned. “The guards will head to the village to pick everyone up and lead them to a safer location. In the meanwhile, come with me.”

Neither Samir nor Felícia were budging, until Nahla and Dulce gently tugged at their sleeves. They followed Khalid into the large house, now devoid of bustling guests. He led them down tiled stairs and into a room where an imposing man who resembled Khalid waited.

“Baba?” Khalid snapped his attention to the five guests. “Wait in this room while the Calamity passes over. There’s a phone to call me or any of the servants.” He led them in and shut the door.

The room contained a screen and two sofas. Felícia, Felícia with the golden brown eyes darting curiously, bounced onto a couch. The Summoner's mask betrayed no emotion as she sat down and watched the walls. Dulce was touching the walls, admiring them with a trained eye and delicate touch. There were some muffled conversations beyond the doors, but Nahla couldn't hear what they were talking about. Samir paced the room, before deciding to use the phone. It was old, with buttons that needed to be pressed before you could dial.

"Where are we?" he questioned.

"It's the spare entertainment room, and the safest room in this house," responded Khalid.

"How do we know that there is a Calamity coming to Casablanca?"

Nahla heard Khalid sighing over the phone. "Turn on the TV to the news channel."

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Grumbling underneath his breath, Samir grabbed a nearby remote and turned on the TV. It was already on the news channel, showcasing a fearsome Calamity bringing multiple rainstorms to the west coast of Morocco. Nahla's heart panged for her village. She hoped that her mama and everyone were evacuated in time. Samir for his part slumped onto the sofa next to Nahla.

"It's true then."

"Yes." There were some muffled words. "I have to go now. Nahla, Samir, Dulce, Felícia, stay put. Sorry Nahla about the—” The phone abruptly hung up on them, leaving a loud buzzing sound.

For a few minutes, silence reigned as rain pounded from far above them. It’s so different, Nahla thought, to be in a Calamity. Certainly, she had never encountered one before, unless she counted the one from which she had been rescued. That was a long time ago…she hoped Samir was doing well. He was old enough to remember his father, and how he passed on. She moved closer to him, feeling his nervous hitching breaths with his hands interlocked on his head. Something within her stirred. Leave, it said, leave and never turn back. She ignored it.

— Aquele cara rico, você o conhece? Como? – Felícia asked Nahla, her eyes boring into her face.

Nahla nudged Samir, shaking him from his stupor. Samir translated for Felícia as Nahla explained how she met Khalid, and his invitation to his house and how Samir accompanied her. Felícia nodded along and asked a bunch of questions. One was where they were from, which Nahla told them was a village near the coast not far from Casablanca. Another was the extent of her relationship with Khalid, the answer to which Nahla had to think about. Her face felt warm as she thought about the bracelet of raw pearls. She chose an answer after a minute.

The Summoner was watching the door intently. Nahla tried to imagine what eyes laid behind the mask. Bright eyes, sorrowful eyes, fiery eyes, blank eyes, she wondered. Meanwhile, the Summoner was approaching the door. Nahla noticed that part of her djellaba was stretched outwards into a ball-like shape. The Summoner knocked on the door once, and then started trying to wrench them apart with her feet. The doors groaned slightly as the Summoner yelled about people, Calamities, a light, Felícia, a fair lady, and the doors. Nahla wished she had learnt more French. They refused to budge, as Felícia got up, whispered to the Summoner, pushed her aside, and tried to open the doors. Nothing happened.

— Portas idiotas! – Felícia yelled in anger. – Você, cara alto, me ajude aqui!

After a minute, Samir stood up and tried to open the doors with Felícia and the Summoner. Five minutes later, Samir called Khalid again.

“Hello?”

“Why won’t the doors open?”

“The doors lock on their own sometimes. That room never had that problem before. Hold on, I’m coming down to fix it.”

The phone hung up on them. The Summoner whispered to Felícia, who rolled her eyes at her. Felícia whispered to Dulce, who whispered back. The three of them kept whispering back and forth until Samir glared at them.

— Você nos fez perguntas, agora responda algumas das minhas. De onde vieram todos vocês? Nenhum de vocês é claramente do Marrocos ou de qualquer outro lugar do norte da África. – Samir stared the girls on the other side down, adjusting his posture to his full height.

Samir watched as Felícia glared at him, prepared to give him a verbal lashing of her own until Dulce looked at her. Her shoulders were visibly relaxed. Eventually, Felícia began to reveal why and how they came to be in Morocco.

They all came from Brazil and were distant cousins to each other. Their ancestor left as an inheritance a badly drawn map to the final location of a hidden ancestral treasure. Eventually, after crossing the Atlantic Ocean via a boat, they became lost and headed towards the nearest city, which happened to be Casablanca. There, Khalid’s father noticed that the travellers were exhausted and offered them a place to stay. The Summoner accepted the offer on the fact that they were in need of rest. Nahla doubted that explanation, but she kept her thoughts to herself. The Summoner wasn’t talking at all, being content with marching around the room.

— A verdade não deve ser enterrada. – The Summoner stated.

Felícia shouted in Portuguese and the argument between them quickly degenerated into a fight, which Dulce stopped after they hurtled into a corner of the room. Nahla was feeling tired and decided to sleep. She lay down on the sofa and started to drift into the evening's embrace.

There were no doors this time, though four doors quickly appeared. She recognised Samir’s door with its strong wooden material. The other three were new. The first was alternating white and black, with different whorls of colour swirling across its surface. The second was made of white gold, as bright as the Sun such that Nahla could scarcely glance at it without fearing it burning her eyes. The third changed each time Nahla glanced at it.

She picked the second door, trying to cover her eyes as she pushed against the door. Stumbling onto soft silken grass, she found the Summoner trying to leave, marching around the plains.

“This one’s rest and roosting has ended, for the Calamity that was sprung upon these unfortunate souls. The churlish monkey sought to distort the truth, on which the foundation of the Light has rested upon. Truly, the imposing man and the water dancer would have been leal allies to summon upon for the cause of the Light. Let us hope that her lies do not sully this bond.” The Summoner noticed Nahla’s presence. “You have great power, this one sees clearly. This one names you dream weaver, for you have floated into this one’s dreams and woven a tale of grace.”

Nahla noticed that she remained masked in her dream, and that long dark green feathers unfurled from behind her. She knew that some had dreaming personas different from their true appearances, and yet she was certain that the Summoner did have tail feathers in real life.

“What truth?” she asked.

“That of our true purpose. Such power possessed by a personage not of the Light is unthinkable, until the monkey. You are not aligned with the growing darkness, otherwise you would have been banished by the searing brand of the Light.” The Summoner was taller than Nahla, and the grass slightly trembled as she moved closer. “Truly, we are not so different. This one possesses the song of metal while you channel your power through your dance.”

The Sun was hot, so Nahla moved it slightly until she felt cooler. The Summoner watched her closely as the Sun moved to the right. It was still bright, which satisfied the Summoner based on her upturned smile. There were many roosters and chickens wandering around, Nahla noticed.

“Dream weaver, there is a Calamity afoot. Wake this one so that this one can continue to serve the will of the Light.” The Summoner asked.

“That’s not how it works.” Could Nahla wake anyone? No, she most likely couldn’t.

“Very well, this one will wake herself on her own.” The Summoner let out a soft sun-kissed smile. “This one sees you respect this one with your heart and soul, and this one shall reward you one day. Let the Light bless you on your voyages.”

Nahla wanted to say more, but the door reappeared. She could wake herself up, Nahla thought, as she walked through that door.

The door was open now, Samir standing steady beside the door. Dulce and Felícia had vanished, leaving no trace behind. The hallway outside was filled with an air of foreboding. She wondered if it was evening or night already, for she found no light in the room or the hallway. The Summoner had shed her yellow djellaba, now sporting the same dark green feathers Nahla saw in her dreams. Before Nahla could ask her anything, the Summoner charged into the darkness while singing. Samir shrugged. Most of his nerves had vanished, based on his upright posture.

“No sign of Khalid or anyone other than the three girls,” he mentioned to Nahla.

Nahla peeked out of the doors. Had any of the lights been working when they had descended? They certainly weren’t now. As she walked across the corridor, her feet touched something wet and sticky. Looking downwards, she noticed it was a puddle of blood. There were more scattered throughout the hallway. Samir was carefully watching Nahla and the hallway. They were alone, she knew that. Best to find the exit.

“Is the Calamity still out there?” she asked Samir. Something stirred within her.

“Probably, though the TV shut off a few minutes before you woke up,” was his reply.

Thankfully, Dulce and Felícia weren’t among the bloody pools. Nahla noticed darker shapes near some pools. She decided not to look. Samir walked slightly ahead of her as they ascended the steps, looking warily for any threats. More blood pooled at the edge of the steps, staining her kaftan. Where was Khalid? The last time she heard his voice, he was heading down to fix the broken doors. She hoped he found safety somewhere. Samir looked out into the open foyer, where more blood awaited them. Nahla tried not to think about where the blood came from. The lack of the security guards' presence worsened her thoughts. Finding what appeared to be an empty room, Samir slightly nudged the door—and nearly vomited from the sharp metallic stench.

"Don't go inside," he ordered Nahla.

She listened to him. The room next to the one that smelled of blood was thankfully empty and free of any dead bodies. Outside, Samir shut the door behind Nahla. She pulled out her cobalt amulet, etched with the signs of Pisces and Neptune.

“Give me their souls, and I will reveal their innermost dreams amidst a turbulent ocean at the end of it all. Forgive them, and let the sea wash them away.”

The amulet burst into sea green tinted light as Nahla felt a familiar pulse within herself, like the heart of the sea beating in tandem with her own heart. It was a dance she had done before, being swept away by currents born anew and infused with an ancient soul. She supposed there was a certain magic in this ritual, as her clothing flowed around her body leaving her dressed in a sea green outfit complete with small purple jewels placed around her body. The scales on her cheeks, neck, hands, and feet were still present. Nahla greatly liked the fact that it didn’t include shoes.

The ribbons on her hands and ankles flowed as if they were swept about by the ocean currents. Nahla knocked on the door, signalling for Samir to open it. As soon as that was done, she was confronted with the sight of a girl in a large white fur-trimmed cloak covering her entire body and Samir getting up from the blood soaked ground. Nahla wondered if the girl was overheating in that cloak. The other girl was just as surprised to see Nahla as Nahla was surprised to see her. She noticed that the girl had sheep ears and her bangs were black while the rest of her hair was white. The girl was familiar, but Nahla couldn’t quite place where she had seen her before. The other girl was about to say something, but stopped herself. Above them, a crystalline chandelier was hanging precariously under the weight of a mysterious figure with a dark brown monkey tail dangling from above. Nahla also found this figure familiar, but she still had no idea who that might have been.

“Hello, who are you?” she asked the two.

Neither answered her question, although the girl with the monkey tail was opening her mouth when the girl with the sheep ears put her finger to her mouth. They appeared trustworthy, so Nahla and Samir followed them through the rest of the foyer. As with the hallway, it was shrouded in darkness and covered in blood. The sheep-eared girl’s cloak never soaked in blood despite being drenched in it. Sometimes Nahla thought the darkness surrounded her and the other girls, inspecting them for something. There was still no sign of Khalid or the Summoner. She hoped they found shelter somewhere, far away from the carnage. Samir checked each room, with the same result: blood and sources of blood. Nahla felt terrible for those that had passed on, and hoped that they would find peace in the afterlife. At least the Summoner and Khalid weren’t among them. The girl with the monkey tail and dark hair with tips of gold kept picking up various items, sometimes stowing them away in her pockets.

Once, a tendril of darkness formed and grabbed Samir by the ankle, hoisting him upside down and searching him. Nahla was about to summon water when he was unceremoniously dropped onto the floor. The tendril was evidently satisfied and slinked back into the shadows.

“Samir! Are you alright?” Nahla asked.

“I’m fine.” He picked himself up.

They continued onwards. Occasionally the girl with the monkey tail would tap Nahla on the shoulder, but stopped once they reached the next floor. Littered with bodies, the room opened up to the foyer below. The girl in the white cloak knelt down and took out a paintbrush. She drew a stele inscribed in words that Nahla could not read. The girl with the monkey tail was scavenging the dead bodies, murmuring to herself in the process.

“This is strange.” Samir knelt by a dead body. “I’ve seen dead people. Never have I seen this much blood around them. The colour of their skin’s wrong too.”

Nahla peered down. Most of the bodies were security guards, she noticed, and all were pale, surrounded by blood. Staring at the sheep-eared girl, she realised she should do something for these fallen guards. Taking a deep breath, she conjured water and shaped it to her will. Seawater became a scroll filled with winding words. She sealed it on each of the guards individually, a prayer that they will be safe after death in the afterlife.

Each guard had a gaping hole where the blood spilled outwards. She wondered how much blood soaked into the floor. Certainly, the walls were splattered with crimson blood. There was a struggle here, she realised. With the amount of blood…had it been drained out of their bodies? Nahla tried to look for medical supplies, while the girl in the white cloak seemed to have the same idea and tugged on the monkey girl’s sleeve. The other girl shook her head.

“Samir, maybe we should look for medical supplies, or we can search for survivors?”

“No. There are more floors, and no one knows what’s out there or how everyone was drained of their blood.” Samir motioned with his head. “We should find Khalid. Forget the medicine, I doubt there would be survivors.”

Nahla listened, and so did the girl in the fur-trimmed cloak since she stopped trying to look. She did draw more steles inscribed in a language Nahla couldn’t read. The other girls followed suit. The girl with the golden circlet was unfazed by the dead bodies, while the girl in the white cloak held a heavy heart. This wasn’t the first time the white cloaked girl had seen death, Nahla realised, based on her downcast look. The other floors had been the same thing, with Nahla and the girl with sheep ears creating monuments for their sacrifice. No medical supplies, no survivors, and no sign of Khalid or the Summoner. Her feet dragged as she carried on.

They finally found themselves on the highest floor. The unnatural darkness that shrouded the house sprouted shadowy tendrils that sensed them as soon as they ascended the stairs. To their surprise, they charged at the girls and Samir. Nahla summoned water to her hand and formed a watery shield which the tendrils could only surround, trying to squeeze them inside. The girl with the monkey tail muttered something under her breath, taking out a deck of playing cards. The girl with the sheep ears watched carefully, drawing what looked like a lantern with her paintbrush. Nahla took a deep breath as the shadows surrounded the shield and released it onto the shadows. In the chaos, she fashioned watery doubles of herself, Samir, and the other two girls, sending them down the stairs. The shadowy tendrils followed suit, leaving the group alone.

— Você é uma bruxa ou algo assim? – The girl with the braid and monkey tail asked Nahla. – Quem quer que esteja controlando essas sombras não é muito esperto se estiver perseguindo ilusões.

She spoke Portuguese? But there was only one person other than the Summoner—oh. Nahla looked at Dulce and Felícia with fresh eyes. Dulce’s eyes widened. She probably was realising that Nahla was the girl standing in front of her, Nahla thought.

A scream sounded in the hallway from a familiar voice.

“Khalid!” Nahla sprinted after the source. Was he fine?

The answer was found at the entrance of a metal door with an electronic keypad. The Summoner was throwing metal darts into the darkened room as shadows attacked her. Khalid was trying to type into the electronic keypad causing it to scream ERROR into the void.

“Come on, come on, come on…ah!” He ducked as a tendril swiped him, barely missing his head.

The Summoner was yelling about the light and driving back the darkness as she tangled with the tendrils of darkness, slicing them into pieces with metal rods and her own darts. A card thudded into the nearby wall, transforming into an axe. Felícia picked it up, slamming it into the door. There were more people screaming inside. Dulce was drawing more lanterns that the darkness tried to quench. Nahla created bubbles of water around everyone while she slammed a wall of seawater into the shadows. She hoped that everyone in the room was fine. The Summoner and Samir were moving to assist Felícia, the Summoner singing into existence a crowbar which she tried to use to pry the door open. Nahla created a wall of water and shoved it hard into the door, snapping it off of its hinges and washing everyone into the centre of the room.

The blood inside intermingled with the seawater as multiple people lay bleeding out, tendrils of shadow driving deep inside their bodies and ripping out their innards. A man who Nahla assumed to be Khalid’s father was looking upwards at a growing dark miasma that encircled the room, along with some survivors.

“...You dare enter my home, slaughter my men, leave a trail of bloody massacre through every floor, and now you dare make demands of me. You insolent pig, I’ll put you down like the scum you are—Khalid?” He blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Baba? What’s going on?” Khalid was fearful, nervously looking upwards.

The tendrils stopped what they were doing and encircled Khalid, lifting him high into the air. Another wrapped around his neck, jabbing a sharp point into his neck. Nahla was about to summon water, only to be stopped by Samir’s fearful gaze.

“Leave my son out of this. What do you want? Money? Influence? Power? Tell me and I can give you it the second you say yes.” The man kept his composure, yet Nahla could tell that he was shaking inside.

The tendril drew closer, drawing blood from Khalid’s neck as his father pleaded for his life. Suddenly, the tendril released Khalid from its grip and dropped him on the floor. Nahla rushed over to him, checking if he was fine. Other than the blood staining his djellaba, all else was fine. She was about to call out to his father—when a black scorpion tail struck him in the heart.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Khalid dove for his father before being smacked by a dark tendril into the wall. Nahla summoned water to cushion his landing. The Summoner grabbed the scorpion tail, utilising her darts to stab it. The tail twitched slightly, the darts having little to no effect on it. She instead resorted to singing, driving metal rods to her hand. The black tail swiftly retreated into the dark mist. The darkness was poised to strike again as Khalid’s father groaned. Black tendrils were spreading from where the stinger stabbed him. A few men were searching mahogany cabinets, scouring for a cure to his malady. Dulce and Samir were cautiously watching from where the door used to be, and Felícia was shouting at the darkness above.

— Olhe para você se escondendo nas sombras. Você não gostaria de enfrentar alguém que fosse igual a você? – She held up three cards. – Escolha uma carta, qualquer carta. – She smirked, flicking the cards between her fingers. Is this a magic trick, Nahla wondered.

Whoever was controlling the black mist ignored her and focused their efforts on the cabinets. The ebony strands destroyed the cabinets, seizing them and shrouding the room in complete darkness. Not even Dulce’s lanterns nor the Summoner’s call for the light penetrated the darkness.

A hoarse voice pierced through the darkness. “Someone…who’s here…”

Nahla responded, “I’m here Sidi.”

“The medicine cabinet…fourth from the left…green container…”

Nahla trudged over the wall on her left, feeling the cabinets with her fingers. Instinctively, she gripped a vaguely greenish container. She conjured multiple illusions of her taking similar containers from the cabinets and set out. From the groans of pain, she found Khalid’s father easily. While she couldn’t see anything, she predicted that his chest must have been covered by those dark tendrils.

“How do I apply this?” she asked him.

“It’s…a cream…find Hassan…he knows how to…use it.”

She was closer, maybe she could use it on him? Except…he wasn’t family, and that was strange, touching an unrelated man. Samir wouldn’t like it either. Nahla decided to look for Hassan. She hoped he was among the living, she thought. Several lanterns shone through the darkness and Nahla finally found Hassan, bleeding out from his stomach but still aware enough for Nahla to explain everything. He sprinted to his boss’ side, opening the container and applying it. Suddenly, Khalid’s father’s breath became less painful and more relaxed as he slowly returned to full health. Nahla looked at the label. It wasn’t in Arabic or Amazigh or even French. She wondered what was in the container.

Khalid’s father reached for his phone requesting backup while the Summoner stabbed the dark mist with a metal rod. Out of what Nahla supposed was sheer rage, the dark mist pushed the Summoner outside, Felícia and Dulce following after their friend. Samir grabbed Nahla’s arm and together they sprinted into the hallway.

There were still surviving security guards, but most of them were preoccupied with the growing darkness hunting them. The Summoner removed at least twenty darts from inside her boots while Dulce was busy drawing multiple physical shields that surrounded herself. Samir moved to protect Nahla before one of the pools of blood grew a tendril and slammed him to the floor. She rushed to his side, brushing away the darkness and checking him over.

“Are you fine?” she asked.

“Look out!”

She ducked just in time for her to miss being hit by Felícia being restrained to the wall by crimson strands bolting across the hallway. She muttered something in Portuguese and pressed her hand firmly onto the tendrils. Within seconds, they turned into water falling away and releasing the girl with a wicked smile on her lips.

— Portanto, não é possível controlar a água. Ei, garota peixe, aqui está você. – Felícia shouted with a mirthful grin before running off.

Was she talking to Nahla? Nahla called to her, but the nimble-footed girl couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. Finding a foothold on the ledge, Felícia leaped off, dodging all of the tendrils that sprang from the blood and the darkness. Nahla created a few fake security guards with guns, or what she thought guns looked like. Did Khalid’s security guards have guns? She would ask him later. Nevertheless, the watery guards advanced on the inky darkness, currently trying to disarm the Summoner of sharp metal shards while darkness tied her down gently. Samir recovered and punched someone in the face. That person spat blood on his feet and rushed off. Who was that, Nahla thought. Further thoughts were interrupted by an outpouring of water and a cackling Felícia at its head. Her cards spun in her hand as she flipped through them and shuffled them. Dulce was completing several lantern drawings and lit them in successive order, driving away some of the darkness.

The Summoner broke free of her bondage and seemed to grow still. White gold orbs appeared inside the black fog, shaking wildly. The girl with the dark green tail feathers looked satisfied as she searched for the orbs. Out of the corner of her eye, Nahla noticed a woman slinking around and that the orbs disappeared from the dense fog. The Summoner didn’t seem to notice, but Nahla conjured a stream of water to hit her in the back. She turned around—finding a stranger poised to strike. The crack of a whip sounded as the Summoner jumped into the air. Nahla received a brief “merci” before the Summoner kicked into dark mist. She disappeared, Nahla thought. Sprinting towards Dulce, she found herself surrounded by blinding light—and a lurking shadow.

The woman that was shadowing the Summoner now loomed before them, her hand gripped on a thin black whip. Dulce was shaking, but chose to meet this stranger’s weighted gaze. The woman didn’t say a word, only opening the windows nearby. The Calamity raged outside of the shield, pelting the ground with fat droplets. Inside was calm and serene, other than the combined yelling in Arabic, Portuguese, and French in the hallways and the screeching of the darkness. Nahla noticed that one of the hedges had a missing section, large enough that a person could fit through. She wanted to ask about the hedges, but the woman had disappeared before she opened her mouth.

Felícia had successfully turned most of the blood into water, but there were some pockets of resistance. They were dedicated to feeding off some of the security guards as their co-workers tried to free them from the needle-like tendrils. Nahla snuck around, covertly prying the crimson tendrils away from the humans. Thankfully, some of them were trying to feed off her fake security guards, their bodies slumped in a corner. Despite the fact that they were only water, she shuddered at the thought of those dark tendrils feeling her and looking for her blood.

A sudden clang, and Nahla found Samir and the woman facing each other. The woman was holding her whip in her right hand and Samir was in his fighting stance. Nahla knew that Samir had fought once or twice against older boys over their cruel taunts, but this woman was not like those boys. While Nahla had never fought anyone in her life, she knew that between someone’s fists and someone’s whip, the winner would not be the person with the fists.

She conjured some water from the pools and snaked them through the black gloves of the woman. Eventually, the water formed a second hand around the whip. She seized her moment and yanked the water. It didn’t quite work, but it did make the woman notice Nahla.

Samir tried to tackle her, but she was too swift. Despite her shaky grip, she still managed to drive a nasty jagged tear across the back of Samir’s djellaba, cutting to his skin dripping a raw scarlet.

Nahla managed to rush out of that section of the hallway quickly, trying to reach Samir. Was he fine?! All Nahla heard was Samir groaning, his blood soaking into the richly decorated rugs. Hold on, she thought, she was coming! Please hang on a little while longer!

Something snapped above her head, and she turned around to notice the woman’s whip just barely missing her head. It reached another security guard with a gun raised, wrapping around the throat. Nahla was about to yell—before the woman pulled hard on the whip, leaving an audible CRACK as the guard slumped to the floor.

Nahla couldn’t find it in herself to scream, only that her feet had turned to stone and her heart was racing. That poor guard laid there unmoving. Stilling her heart, she kept running away from the woman. She stopped by the room where they found Khalid's father. Khalid himself was taking photos of the destruction, the ripped Persian carpets, and of Nahla. Nahla in her flowing skirts of sea green and purple jewels, untouched by wear and unstained by blood.

He stood by his father’s body, the chest showing the lightest flutter of movement, the only sign that he was alive. Despite all of the conflict happening before, all Nahla wanted to do was to make sure everyone was fine, to become what the Summoner called her in their shared reverie. Dream weaver, could she weave a peaceful dream for all of them, one where no one would ever have to fight, to kill? She could not begin to understand everyone, but Dulce’s eyes, her haunted eyes that have seen the finality of life…if she could remove that, give her life—

Someone yanked her arm. Nahla conjured a watery shield before her back landed on the floor.

“Samir! Why are you—”

Samir did not yank her to the ground. Sure he had pulled her tightly before, especially late at night. It wasn’t Samir’s deep brown eyes with hints of brotherly warmth tucked away, but blood red lenses that revealed no eyes, only a cold unfeeling stare. The woman from earlier kept her hand gripped tightly upon her whip, though Nahla watched her rearrange her fingers several times. There was no face to drown in, only a mask from which the wearer breathed heavily through. It covered her entire face and the long black braid covered the rest of her head. Everything was black and fit the woman like a second skin. Nahla noticed with mounting panic that the woman sported multiple throwing knives on her chest. For a moment, they stared at each other. Finally, the silence was broken when the woman decided to cough.

She was about to speak when a metal rod flew across the room and crashed onto the back of her head. It clamoured to the ground where it lay. The woman whipped around in time for her to dodge the Summoner’s golden spurs aimed at her head.

« Maudite servante des ténèbres ! Va-t'en au fond d'abîme duquel tu es partie ! »

The woman wasn’t visibly affected by the blow to the head, though Nahla felt that the corridor steadily became more gloomy. One minute, the Summoner was readying another attack. The next, a black scorpion tail jabbed the Summoner in the shoulder, making her wince in pain and slump to the floor. The woman stood behind, hand gripped tightly around the whip as her tail retracted back into her body. It was that moment that Nahla dashed into the watery shield, grabbing the cream before anyone asked her. She was about to reach the Summoner before a stinging sensation forced her to drop the cream. Nahla's hand stung as she watched the woman retrieve the green container. It only lasted until a monkey's tail wrapped around the woman in black's head.

— Sentiu minha falta? Tenho um presentinho para você, já que se recusou a jogar. – Felícia shouted cheerfully. – Pegue isso!

Nahla ducked onto the floor just as a gun flew through the air. The woman prepared to duck only for the gun to transform into a shower of lotus petals. The woman stopped to hold one in her left hand—before ducking to avoid Felícia swinging a metal chair into her head. She lashed out with her whip, but the girl with an ever present smirk kept dodging.

— Ha! Se você chama isso de chicote, então minha avó era uma rainha. Esse fiozinho não pode me tocar. Tudo o que você faz é se esgueirar na escuridão e apunhalar as pessoas quando elas menos esperam. Você não é páreo….

For a moment, all stood still as Nahla watched the woman. The wild movements of Felícia stopped, replaced by her swaying gently until she hit the ground with a thud. Nahla watched with horror as she groaned, struggling to get up while she cried tears of blood. Some crimson blood was escaping out of her mouth in startled spurts. Nahla tried to manipulate the blood, but it was no use. It refused to respond, and suddenly it felt as though pressure closed around her throat.

The woman was coming closer, the cream secure in her grasp. Dulce was still present, silently gasping in horror at what befell her friends. Nahla summoned a watery hand and sent it to secure the cream. Dulce was drawing something that looked more and more like brightly coloured balloons. The hand secured the cream, just in time for a hundred balloons to be drawn into existence. Immediately the woman noticed the absence of the cream. Unfortunately, picking apart the culprit when there were many balloons in her face was hard.

After the cream was safely deposited, Nahla rushed to the Summoner. It wasn’t as bad as Khalid’s father, yet the poison spread through her right shoulder. She managed to apply one layer of cream before a lashing tail and whip impaled all of the balloons. The woman was swivelling her head wildly, watching for any signs of movement. The Summoner started to stir before Nahla motioned for her to be quiet, though she sighed in relief. Darkness trickled in the hallway, some prodding at Nahla’s face. Suddenly, a vase was smashed as the woman was stunned by the sudden appearance of Nahla’s brother. Across the hallway, Felícia was free to move, her nose bleeding profusely.

The struggle between the two continued close to where Khalid and his father were. Nahla ran after them. Would Samir be fine? She knew that he seemed fine, but she was still worried. Nonetheless, she took cover underneath a cherry table before the woman kicked Samir in a certain sensitive area and flipped him into the table, smashing it into splinters. Nahla winced as one found its way into her foot. Thankfully, Samir didn’t land on her.

Samir noticed her before she could speak. “Are you hurt?!”

Nahla just pointed at her foot. Samir nodded and pulled the splinter out. She had to suppress herself from screaming in pain.

The woman noticed that Khalid’s father was still alive and was advancing on them when a lasso restrained her right hand. The other end was tied to a stray wooden beam with Dulce nervously watching. The Summoner was staring daggers at the woman with darts at the ready. Samir frowned.

“One of my old friends used to know a guy with throwing knives. He said that throwing knives isn't always the primary weapon of a person. When it isn’t, they would store it where their non-dominant hand would be able to reach it.” Samir pointed out the throwing knives. “That’s not usual.”

Nahla studied the sheathes more closely. It looked like it was impossible for anyone to reach with their left hand. She thought about how the woman gripped her whip in her right hand, and how it always seemed unsteady. Something else caught her, with the woman reaching for her whip…with her left hand.

Oh.

Dulce restrained the wrong hand.

The woman grabbed the whip and tore a vicious slash that scarred the pale yellow walls and snapped the rope in half. Dulce was briefly surprised before dashing away from the crack of a whip. Khalid noticed Samir and was about to move before the whip caught him, reeling him in like a fish.

One of the throwing knives was plucked from its sheath and held against Khalid’s throat. Nahla wanted to try and save him, but the woman was resolute. Though the woman never said anything, Nahla knew that if any of them approached, Khalid would die by her hand. A trickle of blood fell from where the steel met his neck.

She looked at Khalid, his terrified eyes darting between the window and the people surrounding him and the woman. Did he recognise her, Nahla wondered, from their shared dream? Now, her attention was on the woman in black. Was she hurt by Khalid’s father? Why did she want to end his life? Nahla wasn’t inclined to think that there was malicious intent for her or the other girls. Maybe she was more hurt by the Summoner’s metal rod than Nahla realised. How was Nahla going to approach her? Physically wasn’t an option, not when Khalid’s life was determined by the direction of the knife to his bobbing throat. The woman wasn’t sleeping, so contacting her in her dreams wasn’t an option either. She hoped the woman understood Arabic.

“Are you doing well?” she asked.

Samir sighed, but she continued on. “If you’re hurting, you can tell me. It’s safe here.”

The woman gave no reaction, but she wasn’t trying to send darkness or bloody tendrils after anyone so Nahla thought it was working. Khalid was fiddling with his camera.

“Maybe we can talk later, after all of this, but please put the knife down. I don’t know what issues you have with his father, but Khalid is innocent.” She hoped the woman listened. “Please.”

The woman refused to drop the knife. Khalid stopped messing with his camera. Before Nahla could do anything, he snapped a photo of the woman, the bright lights disorienting the woman long enough that Khalid managed to slip away—before the woman recovered, grabbed him again, and threw him head first through a nearby window.

Glass flew out the window with Khalid falling through the air. Nahla was about to summon a net made of water, only for Khalid to stop falling while the glass shards shattered onto the hedges below. She noticed Dulce out of the other window with her hand outstretched. After letting Khalid ascend and setting him down on the floor, he decided to sit down.

“Wow, that was…impressive and cool. How did you do that?” he asked Dulce.

“It’s a simple magician trick,” Dulce answered.

Khalid nodded. “I should try and learn it.” He looked at Nahla. “You were trying to talk her down, and I messed it up. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine! Anyone with a knife to their throat would have probably reacted the same way. Are you fine?” She checked him over, her feet growing lighter with the lack of severe injuries.

“No, it’s—wait she’s still here?”

Both girls turned around. The fight was still ongoing, as Felícia started using the nearby furniture as weapons. Currently, she turned one of the Persian carpets into an inflatable flamingo pool float and dragged the woman with the scorpion tail around by the neck with the float. The Summoner was throwing darts at her while Samir just watched. The dark tendrils watched as their mistress made no move to encircle any of her opponents. Eventually, the woman popped the inflatable with her tail and walked off. She was about to approach Khalid’s father, but after noticing the amount of security guards surrounding him, she kept on walking. Before she left, she sprinted next to Nahla. Nahla felt her hands become lighter. The woman straddled the broken window and launched herself from there. Dulce looked over the window.

« Elle est partie. » Dulce checked beyond the hedges, appearing satisfied at the woman’s disappearance.

Nahla nodded and helped Khalid up. She was about to give him back the green cream when she noticed that it was missing. She frantically checked her sleeves, skirt, and the floor. Nothing. The woman in black must have taken it, she thought. Nahla wondered what the cream was.

Khalid dusted himself off, wincing when he dusted off glass fragments, when his father approached him, prompting him to stand at attention. Khalid’s father stared down at his son and turned to face everyone else. Nahla noticed that he didn’t react at the sight of her fish scales, Dulce’s sheep ears, Felícia’s monkey tail, or the Summoner’s tail feathers.

He merely nodded towards one of the servants, who beckoned for the group to follow him. Samir begrudgingly agreed.

“Hopefully, we can both go home.” Samir winced as he walked down the stairs. His back was bleeding, and Nahla wished she had held onto the cream a little while longer.

— Salvamos seu traseiros e ele nem sequer agradeceram… – Felícia muttered to herself, casting cold gazes at Khalid’s father and Khalid.

They were all escorted to one of the rooms untouched by the battle outside. Except for the painting hanging by a single nail, the room was nicely furnished.

Nahla waved to the servant before he left. “Excuse me! What happened out here?”

“You mean the woman? I suppose that she must have snuck in during the party and waited for all of the guests to leave. She killed most of the guards…that much blood shouldn’t be possible. A few of the staff tried to fight her off—you can guess at how well that went.” He sighed. “Other than that, she didn’t hurt us. Having dark tentacles gagging you wasn’t pleasant, but at least we aren’t dead. Oh, and all of the white chocolates vanished.”

Nahla nodded. “Are you feeling well?”

He shook his head. “Thank you for asking though. Someone should be here with refreshments shortly. In the meantime, please wait here.”

The door shut quietly behind him. The Summoner was reclining on a beige-coloured couch. Nahla couldn’t tell if she was sleeping. Felícia was lounging on the couch across from the Summoner, her arms draped on the floor and her feet high in the air. Dulce was next to Nahla with her cloak covering most of the grey-coloured couch. Samir was on her other side, watching the curtains surrounding tall windows.

She wondered how Khalid was doing. The Summoner showed no reaction to her questions, though she did say yes when she was asked about her shoulder hurting. Dulce was napping with her cloak acting as a blanket. Samir informed her that Felícia wasn’t interested in answering any questions about her well-being. The girl with a tail of green feathers suddenly stood up.

— Essa farsa mesquinha chegou ao fim.

The Summoner threw a circular object made of white gold that clattered onto the glass table while she fished inside Felícia’s pockets. Tapping Dulce’s shoulders lightly, she managed to procure a dark ink-like amulet from her. There were three of them on the table now, but Nahla couldn’t read the symbols written on them. She pulled her own amulet on the table.

“So…where did you all really come from?” Samir asked.

They received their answer from Felícia after Dulce agreed. They all were coming from Brazil, but the Summoner and Dulce were from France and a country called Costa Rica respectively. They were following a map, though they couldn’t read it. The Summoner decided to land in Morocco for rest, confident that the oceans were “calling to her, a symbol of the Light’s dominance.” Dulce thought that if they kept it secret, then no one would be looking for them. Nahla decided to not press on why Dulce was afraid of telling other people or who was looking for them, though she understood.

She checked on the Summoner again, her face forever stoic. Her shoulder twitched frequently. Some part of her wanted to peel back the mask to see what lay beyond unblinking white, but she never made a move. It was just her and the seemingly dreaming rooster with the red combed hair. At least, Nahla thought she was sleeping. She searched for her dreams, but none revealed themselves to her. Dulce was sketching. Where were Samir and Felícia? Light fluttered with the curtains, dappling with each light ruffle. Has the Calamity already passed? Was that where they were? No, Nahla thought, Samir would have never taken the time to enjoy the warm feeling of surviving a Calamity. He would have had his head stuck in a book, reading and questioning why it was written this way. Or…terrified and shaking.

The door outside was open, perhaps Nahla should take a look? Once she left the threshold, she noticed that the marks of the previous conflict were left untouched. Samir had his ear to the wall and was translating to Felícia, who every once in a while would squint and mutter something in Portuguese. Nahla snuck into a small alcove, and put her ear against her wall. The first thing she noticed was that the walls were able to carry sound well inside. The second thing she noticed was that Khalid and his father were talking…loudly.

“What do you mean you’re sending me away?!”

“It’s for your protection. I can’t let what happened to you today happen again. You will be travelling with an escort of five security guards, and a trusted associate will be meeting you at the airport–”

“Why am I going to Zurich of all places?! I can stay here just fine!”

“It’s safer there. The events of today have proven that the security here is insufficient for us and requires improvement.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to send me to a completely different continent because of a minor home invasion–”

“You were thrown out of a window! Before that, you had a knife to your throat! I don’t know what this woman is capable of or what she wants, but I know that she has a vendetta against this family–”

“You talk about the ‘family’, yet after Mama died you had no hesitation sending me across the ocean alone and grieving and not knowing any English! Also, don’t forget that she was trying to kill you too! For all I know, her issues are with you and you only! Your reaction to anything is to push everyone away, even your own son and I–”

“You’re dismissed.”

Samir and Felícia vanished when the doors started to open. Khalid stumbled out, noticing Nahla immediately.

“You heard all of that, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“...yeah. We don’t have the best relationship.” He sighed. “I don’t want to go to Europe, not when I’ve only been here for two weeks. The last time I came home was during the winter break in America, and he had left for some business function in Korea. Sometimes, I wanted to talk to him, but lately, he’s been withdrawing away from me, sending me to these far-off places. And then when we do talk…” He gestured to the closed door. “That happens.”

Nahla nodded.

Khalid slumped to the ground and buried his head in his legs. “His first reaction to his son being thrown out a window was to send him far away, to someone who I don’t know. Not comforting him, sending him to a country that he’s never been to for his safety. At least I can take some good photos there.”

He’s been hurt badly. “Maybe there’s a good reason for his disappearances, maybe there isn’t. He should listen to you, and what you want.” She thought about how her own mama mourned for her husband for three years. “Grief takes a lot of time to heal from. Both of you might be hurting, and you’re expressing it in different ways. Sometimes talking can help, but it’s not a steadfast solution.” Samir had shut himself away in his books while his mama mourned, always looking out of the window to the shining ocean out of fear. Nahla had no one to mourn.

Khalid nodded, looking up at Nahla with tears in his eyes. “Thank you for the advice. I wish I had something to give you.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, seriously. I brought you here to talk and look where we are. The next time we see each other, I’ll teach you the dance they taught me in school, like I promised."

Dancing…so he did remember.

Samir was standing in front of the window, the curtains blowing in his face when Nahla arrived back at the room. Should she tell him that she was with Khalid alone? He would disapprove, she knew, but he’s her brother.

“I spent time with Khalid after the conversation ended.”

Samir’s shoulders sagged in apparent disappointment. “I told you not to be alone with him alone. Especially now…” He looked beyond the horizon.

Nahla peered through the curtains. The shimmering translucent shield was still up.

“I don’t trust him or his father. I might not like the woman who broke in, but there has to be a reason that she would sneak into someone’s house and try to murder them.” He looked out the window. “Why are these shields up? The Calamity ended already.”

Nahla looked. She noticed the hedges that the woman showed her were facing the window. The Calamity had indeed ended with no traces of it other than some downed trees outside of the shield.

“Why would he invite you to his house….” Samir trailed off, lost in thought.

Nahla sought a seat beside Dulce, who had finished her sketch. The sketch was of a crab, waiting along the beach. It was a realistic rendition, Nahla thought, to be almost lifelike. If it wasn’t on a piece of paper, she would have believed it to be real. Almost immediately, she created a small red crab, which menacingly waved around its pincers. Suddenly, the paper crab lifted itself off of the page and challenged the watery crab to a duel. Soon the two crabs were fighting each other to the amusement of Dulce and Nahla. Fighting each other with pincers was cute, Nahla thought. Dulce seemed to think so too. Felícia decided that Dulce’s crab was more likely to win and kept encouraging it in Portuguese. The Summoner had not awoken and Samir wasn’t paying attention to the crab fight.

Eventually, Dulce’s crab subdued Nahla’s crab, raising its pincers in a moment of triumph. Felícia clapped a lot, her face beaming in delight. Nahla clapped as well while Dulce patted her small happy crab who waved in enjoyment. Nahla patted her crab too, making it happy as well.

Someone knocked on the door, startling Nahla. Her crab dissolved into water while Dulce managed to sneak her crab out of the window.

“Hello? Is this where Nahla is? I’m supposed to bring refreshments to her, Dulce, Felícia, Samir, and…I can’t read English. Someone else.”

“This is Nahla!” she responded.

The door was opened by a young woman with a tray of various drinks and maakouda. “Refreshments are here!” She set them down on the table.

Once she shut the door, the Summoner shot up from her resting position. Dulce picked up the tray and handed each person a glass. Nahla wondered what kind of drink it was. It was coloured white, which was an interesting colour. Looking around the room, all of the drinks were either black or white. Samir was intently examining the drinks while the Summoner helped herself to the maakouda and the drinks. Felícia hesitated, but after seeing the Summoner gulp down her drink, shrugged and ate a maakouda. Nahla was about to drink when something jolted her. Startled, she looked around.

Take a closer look.

The room seemed fine.

No, a much closer look. You can control the sea, surely you can handle one drink?

Usually, the voice only was present for important matters. One drink—wait.

Nahla examined the drink she held. It seemed fine on the surface, but when she dug deeper and pulled at the water, something else was there. What was that? Nahla tried to pull at it, but it refused to move. She looked around.

“Did you drink this?” she whispered to Samir.

“No,” was his reply.

“There’s something in these drinks. I don’t know what they are.”

Samir nodded, opened the window, and poured out his glass onto the bushes.

Nahla tried to get the Summoner’s attention. « Ne bois pas ça ! »

The Summoner stood up to respond—and promptly crashed into the table. Dulce suppressed a scream while Felícia’s eyes widened in shock, darting to her half-full glass and the Summoner’s empty glass.

« On y va ! Maintenant ! » Dulce yelled.

Nahla turned to Samir and Felícia. Hopefully, they will have answers. Felícia began to wildly gesture and made some sort of single-finger gesture to the Summoner while Samir translated as she spoke rapidly.

“So Felícia has a…cloud? A cloud that floats, it can hold two people…yes I know it’s a cloud. She can take herself and…slow down! I don't know Portuguese that well! So your friend can float people like she did with Khalid? Okay…no I am not carrying your friend! She’s not your friend, she’s your—” Samir looked at Nahla. “I can’t say that in front of Nahla. I can take Nahla…just because I’m tall doesn’t mean I have super strength. Why can’t you take the unconscious girl with—”

Footsteps resonated throughout the floor. Samir and Felícia exchanged a look before she emptied herself of all of the various items she took from the dead guards. After some transformations, they formed a massive layered stone barrier that surrounded the door. Nahla noticed Felícia’s eyes starting to close. Dulce noticed too, unbuckling her cloak just in time for it to catch Felícia once she fell unconscious. Samir slung the Summoner on his shoulder, grumbling.

“What do we do now?” Nahla asked Dulce and Samir. “What about Khalid?”

“Enough about Khalid! We need to get out of here before those guards arrive! If anything, I’m pretty sure Khalid lured us here.”

Nahla doubted that, but this wasn’t the time to voice her opinions

— Felícia, acorde, por favor! – Dulce whispered to a sleeping Felícia.

For a brief second, Felícia stirred, waved her hand, and fell back asleep. Enough time for a small blueish-white cloud to appear in front of the window.

When the guards burst into the room after taking a drill to the barrier, they found a small cloud zooming away and a girl floating in the sky.

----------------------------------------

This was new to her.

She spent twenty minutes poring over the control panel, its multicoloured wires taunting her with their complexity. Which wire controlled which? Was it the blue one or the purple one? Or was it the red one? It had always been the red one, but sometimes, it was black. Either way, the bolt cutters she stole from the shed needed to be used quickly. The overhead cameras had just finished their sweep of the western grounds. If they caught her before she escaped…

She had done puzzles before and solved them with ease. If that fucking asshole hadn’t hit her with a metal rod, she would have been out of the mansion and lost to the world.

Her gaze landed on the cream that sat snugly within her palm. What was in it? It acted faster than any drug she had seen. She would have to look into that.

Nevertheless, she focused back on her task at hand. Why was this complicated? Actually...why did she need to think about this? They were already on high alert, and she could disappear faster than they could blink. The guards were dead, she had made sure of that. Readying her bolt cutters, she allowed herself a smile.

After she set some of her dark strands on the control panel, she watched the shield fall away. Tossing the bolt cutters in a nearby hedge, she detransformed—just in time for her to spot a floating white cloud passing through and a fluttering white speck.

Huh, so they figured it out.

She took off her mask, reached into her stash of white chocolate and bit into it. Mmm, it tasted good. Her thoughts turned to the girl who tried to talk to her, the one with the fish scales. She replayed the words in her mind. Something for another day.

Sauntering off into the clearing, she let the darkness shroud her before heading to a crowded souk where she melted into the crowd like a ghost.