His meeting with Zara had gone quite well. Maybe in another time, another place, it could have gone better. Especially if they’d been completely alone. But The Sorcerer did not let the rushed moment go to waste.

He was confident they would meet again in the near future. That young woman’s curiosity was stronger than her fear, whether she herself believed it or not.

And if he was honest with himself, last night was like taking a long sip of water at the break of dawn. It was so refreshing, showing off his skills for another mage after…how long had it been? Four decades? Or more? He couldn’t be exact.

His last underling—a boy of fourteen years from a small village in southern Qroish—was brutally murdered. It’d been purely his own fault for getting caught reciting spells in his own yard. He hadn’t even thought to check around for anyone who could betray him—which, unfortunately, had been his own brother. Execution by public stoning was a ghastly price to pay for such recklessness.

The Sorcerer soon left the village after visiting the abandoned body, buried up to its chest in the dirt for days on end, rotting and working up an unbearable stench in the humid heat.

A shame. He had been an eager student, but incredibly naive and foolish, going as far as to name The Sorcerer as his master during his arrest. The Sorcerer could have saved that damned wasted potential, but of course, he didn’t. He wouldn’t waste his precious magical energy on a traitor.

After living decades upon decades—eventually leading to a full century of strolling among landmasses alone—he’d learned to shut most emotions out for his own peace of mind, and for the sake of his ultimate goal—a desire to take back what was his.

He would now wait for Zara to reach for him. He would not tell her of Yohid’s fate—it was better she figure things out herself. Just as he had done through his own lengthy life.

“Punishment for those who stray from Mother are doomed for eternal purgatory, trapped in an endless nightmare of common fears. It is a Hell worse than submersion in the most frozen of tundras or the hottest of flames—”

Endless nothingness is worse than burning alive? Zara sure didn’t think so.

She had once accidentally singed herself while reaching her bare hand over a candle, and that had hurt. And as a little girl, she had witnessed a homeless burn victim approach her carriage during a family trip down to Darhai—and the memory of the old woman’s wrinkly, patchy pink skin, too-big forehead where hair could no longer grow, and the severely disfigured nose would be forever etched into her memory.

Zara was pretty sure a Hell made of eternal fire would be worse than any purgatory. She guessed the same for freezing—after all, she’s lived through the worst of Pria’s DeepWinters and she couldn’t imagine being plunged into this endless, everlasting region of bitter frost that rivaled this world’s most northern lands.

“You would learn better if you stopped thinking of other things during your lessons young lady,” Noina said, pausing her reading.

“I’m listening,” Zara muttered. But really, she’d heard her aunt’s spiels about purgatory and fire and death about a hundred times now. And every one of those hundreds of times more questions would arise than existing concerns being answered.

Noina narrowed her eyes into black beads, then sighed, flipping through the pages to search for the next part of the text she had marked up. Her forehead creased easily when deep in concentration, and she adjusted her gray shawl around her thinning hair again before settling on the next part of the lesson.

The beginning of each week was for studying religion and philosophy, taught to Zara by her aunt Noina. Rowan attended public school, because he was a normal boy and had nothing to hide.

Zara yawned, then drank some water, hoping it would cool her throbbing head. She and Rowan may be studying in different places right now, but the feelings they shared this morning were the same: they shouldn’t have been out so late right before a school week.

At least, by the grace of Lilith, they had made it home safely, and their parents were none the wiser of their absence.

She and Noina did their lessons in the dining room, but Zara wished she could do them on her own, in bed. She didn’t like being lectured all day by her stern, gods-crazy aunt. Zara took solace in the fact that she had a few months left of these annoying lessons before she was done with them for good.

Noina stopped her reading on the first evil deed of The Sorceress Queen to scrutinize Zara again.

“You seem ill,” she said.

“I’m fine,” Zara replied. “My head just aches a little.”

“Well then you aren’t fine at all.” Noina sighed. “Have you seen yourself? Your eyes cast shadows and your complexion is duller than DeepWinter skies. You’ve always been the unhealthy child around here, some way or another.” She finished her rant with a grumble.

“I wonder why,” Zara murmured.

“Did you say something?”

“No.”

After a moment’s silence, Noina said, “Your appearance is frightening Zara. It’s said that that the devilress appeared in Court looking the same way before she snapped and killed the King.”

Zara rolled her eyes. There Noina goes, talking nonsense about Queen Anvi, a piece of history that was only interesting when Noina wasn’t the one going on and on about it. The old crone was honestly as annoying as Zahir. Perhaps this crazy obsession with gods and evil ran in the paternal side of the family.

“You aren’t heading in the same direction, are you?” Noina accused, her beady glare practically hateful.

What a shame, she used to be so much more forgiving before she’d found Zara doubling the size of a leaf when Zara was fourteen. Zara hadn’t even meant to do it, but Noina was nagging her about something Zara didn’t remember anymore, and Zara had been playing with a little leaf sticking out of the flower vase before it happened.

Noina had grabbed her daughter Dolly—who had been spending the afternoon with Zara at the time—and bolted out, spitting curses at Zara’s parents all the way out the front gates.

Zara had survived a brutal beating, and her father had to spend two whole days at his sister’s house trying to convince her not to tell anyone about the incident. It took a full year getting Noina to step back in their house, and around that time, she had agreed, for the sake of the family, to teach Zara her lessons, with an emphasis on religion to keep “her demon witch self” under control.

Zara shook her head in response to Noina’s question. Her poor health was not, unfortunately, a sign of greater power like the Queen. It was just a stupid old headache. Caused by excessive drinking.

“Good,” Noina whispered under her breath, though she still didn’t seem very placated at all. Those forehead creases had gone deeper.

The sound of the front door distracted Noina long enough for Zara to slump down in her chair. She really needed to rest. Most days, Noina’s scrutiny would drive Zara to tears—tears she would hold in until she excused herself to run to the washroom and let it out—but she was too tired to care today.

“Who is that?!” Noina shrieked.

Zara winced. Besides the kitchen maid, Zara and Noina were alone in the house. Zahir was at work, and Leyli was running errands for her clothing business—so maybe Noina was right to be alarmed, but still. Did she have to be so loud about it?

Just as Noina stood with a rush that made the chair squeal behind her, Rowan appeared at the doorway, pale and sickly, his book bag hanging limply over his shoulder.

“Wh—ROWAN?!” Noina yelled.

Zara really couldn’t take this. The screeching was too much, and the bright daylight seeping through the windows made it worse.

Rowan squinted, discomforted. “Stop screaming,” he said.

“SCREAMING?! What are you DOING here?”

“Ugh, fuc—”

“Don’t even THINK about finishing that word. I will RIP your tongue out myself!”

“I threw up! Ok? I’m sick,” he answered, exasperated. “So they sent me home.”

“Who sent you?”

“…The school? The teachers? I mean, who else?!”

“What do you mean you threw up? What’s the matter with you?”

Rowan threw his head back, groaning. “I’m going to bed. I need to lie down.”

Zara stood up and almost stumbled over, dizzy. “I think I should go to bed, too. I don’t feel well either.”

Noina took a good look at them both. “What is going on with you two? Is there a sickness going around?” Her anger dissipated into worry, as though she might catch this mysterious plague herself.

Rowan wordlessly headed upstairs. Zara wanted to follow him.

“Zara,” Noina said, “you still have your recitations tomorrow, sick or no. I must hear them and return the grades back to the Board. And you still have your quiz on Divvi’s separation from the Kingdom later this week, so be sure you study well. You may go now.”

“Ok,” Zara muttered and left before Noina could get another word in. The Prian Education Board was what allowed Zara to be home schooled, along with others who needed it due to location and familial circumstances. But with the passing years, Zara was finding it pointless and repetitive. Thanks to Noina choosing all her classes, Zara was stuck with mainly religious studies and political history heavily influenced by religious studies. What was the point of any of this? How would this help Zara’s future in any way; what was she supposed to do with all this useless information?

Did she even have a future?

The wizard popped into her mind.

A cool sigh left her mouth as soon as her head hit the soft pillow. Her book bag lay on the bed next to her, reminding her of the text inside, the history she would rather be studying if her head didn’t hurt so much.

She closed her eyes. If only…if only Zara could take her life in a direction she actually wanted it to go. Would it be a life of mastering magic, like that wizard? Or perhaps, she would be on the stage, wearing her anklets, letting her body follow the rhythm of the tabla, or the dhol?

Everything seemed impossible. But she remembered the wizard’s words:

“I assume we’ll cross paths again. Until next time, Zara.”

Was he serious? How could he possibly know something like that? Was he trying to tell her something, that maybe he’s able to predict the future?

All this thinking wasn’t helping her head. She’d ponder over that man after a good morning’s rest.

With that final thought, Zara let herself drift off.

It wasn’t enough for Noina to nag during the day. She needed to stay for the evening meal, to nag even more.

“Tell me why you don’t want a career as an architect?” Noina asked Rowan. She sat in the chair directly across from him, between Zahir at his usual spot at the head of the table and Leyli next to her. This left Zara sitting beside Rowan tonight. “Your brother is doing so well in that job and he makes such great money, too. How could you not want to follow in his footsteps, since you refuse to follow your father’s? Nothing is better than a son growing up to work in the same field as his father, however, the eldest brother is the next best thing, is it not?”

Rowan picked at his food. He never liked topics surrounding their practically estranged older sibling, which Zara couldn’t blame him for since the two were always compared with each other. Naz always came out the victor in this invisible competition of the better man and brother.

“Yeah,” he muttered curtly.

“Don’t be rude,” Leyli warned.

“Noina’s right,” Zahir said. “What are you thinking of doing?” He ripped a piece of his flatbread and popped it into his mouth.

Tonight’s meal consisted of lentils, leftover chicken, and flatbread. The buttery flatbread was good enough to eat on its own, without dipping it into the lentils. Zara snagged another one, hungry for once since she hadn’t eaten much during the day.

“I don’t know,” Rowan stalled. “I mean…I guess I could do something like that?”

“Something like what, dear?” Noina inquired.

“I don’t know! What you just said.”

Architecture? At this rate, Zara believed Rowan had a more promising career as a simple construction worker—specifically the ones that liked taking shortcuts in every project.

“Stop raising your voice every time I ask you a question,” Noina snapped, her dark eyes squinting yet again, making her already old appearance look even older. “Zahir, he’s missing his manners.”

Zahir glared at his son. “Don’t look at me like that, sister. There’s only so much a father can do when his son chooses to stick around bad company.”

Rowan grimaced. “Shia’s not bad company. Neither is Talmar or Hossan for that matter.”

Zara didn’t completely disagree—she didn’t know Talmar or Hossan very well, except for that time when they came to visit and broke two vases in the parlor while playing ball in the house. Since then, they have not been allowed any more visits. She did get to meet them again last night and they were nice, though rowdy and stupid, like Rowan. Shia was the more level-headed one in the group, and despite his own boyishness, he at least had the decency to visit their home with good manners.

Leyli must have felt the same way. “Yes, Shia is not bad company,” she remarked.

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Okay, whatever.”

They ate in silence. Zara relished the peace. But then Noina decided to beeline on her. Clearly, Rowan hadn’t been dramatic enough to cause a real stir.

“Zara, you’re always so quiet. What about you? What were you thinking?”

“…What do you mean?” Zara asked.

“Well, you’ll be living a life of normalcy,” Noina stated as matter of fact. “I believe deep down, you are a fine young woman. Just keep those demons inside you where they belong and you’ll turn out alright.”

She was always bringing up these “demons” inside Zara. She liked to equate magic with demons. Besides testing her faint abilities once every rare blood moon, Zara never summoned her “demons,” ever. She might as well be considered a normal person already and wanted to be treated as such by her own family—they were the only ones who knew about her, after all. Her night at the bar was a small taste of that normalcy, because nobody fucking knew what she was in the first place and probably never would!

Well—besides that strange wizard she met of course. The wizard who knew her name. And she knew not a syllable of his.

Disturbed, Zara put her half eaten flatbread back on the plate. She wasn’t in the mood for it anymore, her stomach felt too full.

“Noina,” Leyli scolded, “you’re too hard on her. You know she’s not like that.”

“We keep her under a tight wrap. There’s no chance of anything happening under my watch anyway, sister,” Zahir added, though his defense didn’t help Zara feel any better.

“Well,” Noina said, unbothered by her own callousness. “I was just wondering what she’s going to be doing after she’s done with her education. Are you to keep her here until you die? Then what?”

Zahir and Leyli looked at each other. Rowan glanced at Zara, uncomfortably. Meanwhile Zara was trying to calm herself down, thinking of anything but what Noina was talking about. It was unfortunate this topic sucked her straight out of her fixation on meeting the wizard again.

“Is marriage even in the question?” Noina rambled on. “Leyli, I know you were concerned about that the most, are you still thinking of suitors? How will that even work? You know, I agree that Zara is well maintained, however, what if she produces a child that is like herself? You know that’s a great cause for trouble, especially since I doubt she will be able to control it as well as you have done with her—”

“Can’t we speak on this topic some other time?” Leyli cut in, strained. “And not while we eat?”

“What else is a good time if not now, when we’re all together like this?” Noina’s eyes lit up. “Oh, speaking of together, I had almost forgotten! Zahir, Dolly will be free next weekend. Invite the rest of the family, we can celebrate her engagement. I already had Leyli mail Nazeer an invitation.”

The parents relaxed at the change of topic. Zara’s throat, however, was blocked. She was glad the attention was finally off her, but she also couldn’t stand the thought of attending a family gathering so soon. She felt like she knew no one. It would be a gathering of strangers.

Zahir smiled at his wife. “You sent it today?”

“Two days before actually,” she answered. “We should be getting an answer in another week, I hope. I just want to see him, or at least hear from him again, engagement or no engagement party. I miss him.”

Zahir shrugged, but his expression was understanding of his wife’s plight. “I know. But he’s a busy man after all. Men like him hardly have the time for such things. Look at me, when was the last time I spoke to my own mother?”

Noina frowned. “You should speak with her more before she’s gone you know.”

Zahir ignored her. “I’m so proud of him,” he said to Leyli, contently.

Rowan stood from the table. “I’m finished eating. So I’m going now.”

Noina clucked her tongue at his flat tone. “How rude. You can’t even excuse yourself properly.”

“Yeah.” He walked over to the wash basin and began rinsing his hands clean.

“I’m also finished,” Zara said.

“No you’re not,” Noina replied, eyeing her half eaten flatbread. “You haven’t finished your bread.”

“Oh…I’m full though.”

“You should have thought of that before you took more bread. What a waste you’re causing.” She turned to Zahir. “Can you believe that? Doesn’t she do this all the time? I tell her she shouldn’t be wasting any part of her meal, that it’s in our very doctrine not to waste anything of value—is food and water not the most valuable of all—?”

There was a garden bug on the table. It was small and black, had many little legs, and two pinching claws. One wouldn’t have seen it if they weren’t paying attention, but Zara’s eyes were always on the table or the ground when she desperately wanted to block out her senses and pretend no one was there. The bug was crawling toward her. When it got close enough, she ripped a piece of the flatbread and placed it on the table. It stopped to nibble at it.

“Are you listening to me, girl?” Noina spat.

“I thought you weren’t speaking to me,” Zara said.

Noina’s glare hardened. “What?”

“Zara,” Zahir said, his eyes matching his sister’s almost exactly. “Watch what you say to your aunt.”

Zara simmered. All day she had been keeping herself level, like she always has. All day, all week, all year, every year.

“Until next time, Zara.”

She watched the little bug eat and suddenly had the urge to reach for it.

“Maybe she shouldn’t speak about me as if I’m not here,” Zara said lowly. “It’ll cause less confusion.” She placed her finger on the bug as if she meant to squish it.

Rowan was in the midst of drying his hands when he stopped to give Zara a round-eyed look that screamed “What in the fuck are you saying?”

This wasn’t like her. She usually kept her mouth shut, her negativity stamped down. But tonight, it was proving difficult to be silent and sorry.

“Zara,” Leyli said. “What’s going on with you? You’re being shamelessly rude tonight.”

“You might as well just sew her mouth shut!” Noina yelled. “Keep her tied up in black strings and red chillies! Don’t let her out of sight! I can swear it, it’s coming Leyli. It’s coming. The evil thing’s already formed friends, you said. That little wicked boy? I’m telling you, the older they are, the harder it gets to contain.”

Yohid. So she knows too. Of course she does.

Her parents just had to tell the overzealous Noina about everything, didn’t they? At this point Zara didn’t care what Noina said about her, or whatever tangent she was on. She could feel the bug squirm underneath her pointer finger, and as nasty as it felt, she liked the warmth it sent through her hand, starting from the tip and up the veins in her palm—as odd as that seemed.

“I have some news that might interest you, Zara,” Zahir spoke. His voice took on that deep, low timbre, which meant Zara was running on dangerous ground. Whatever he wanted to tell that might “interest” her, wasn’t going to be anything good.

Zara silently met his gaze, waiting for him to speak. The bug had stopped squirming.

“Your little friend has been taken into custody. He will be executed at the end of the week.”

Her expression remained still, her jaw tight. She pretended like it didn’t matter even though it completely did, and she wanted to hurl the supper in her stomach out on the table.

“Really?” Noina squealed in delight. “Zahir, that’s wonderful news! That’s just wonderful, is it not Leyli?”

“Um, yes,” Leyli agreed hesitantly. “Though it’s a shame—”

“A shame?!”

“No, I meant—he’s so young. Zahir told me he’s only of eight years. It’s just unfortunate, is all.”

“Unfortunate that he was born into the world like this and facing his crimes at so young an age, yes, I agree. But he is a descendant of Ahnsal, the Devil himself. He killed his own baby sister. He tore his family apart! Tell me, is age even really a factor here? It is our job as pure beings, as children of Lilith, to send monsters like him back to where they hailed from. Are you listening, Zara? If you cross any lines, you may face an even greater—”

Noina cut herself off with an ear piercing shriek as a huge black beetle—larger than the size of a supper plate—leaped at her, its sharp claws scissoring back and forth, cutting at her face as she fell backward on the chair.

Leyli and Zahir jumped back from the table.

“Holy Mother of HELL!” Rowan shouted out.

Zara had almost forgotten he was still in the dining room. If the situation wasn’t so dire, he would have had his mouth smacked twice, she presumed.

What am I thinking?

Zara blinked. She sat there, with her out-of-place thoughts, and simply watched her aunt swatting away at this huge garden bug that was once not even the full length of a pointer finger. Its claws that hardly induced a painful pinch was now purposely assaulting Noina with it. Every time Noina scurried back, it followed her, like it had a vengeance of its own.

Leyli screamed the entire time as Zahir—after shaking himself from his initial bewilderment—ran over to his sister to pull her away from the angry beetle. She was still wailing, her face suffering a few shallow cuts as the beetle went for another clawing. Zahir swatted the beetle away and pulled Noina toward him.

“MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP!” Noina cried.

Zahir managed to stomp the bug down with his sandal clad foot, making an audible crunch. Its squashed guts sprayed out on the floor and on Zahir’s shoe. He winced.

“Ugh! That’s disgusting—” Rowan gagged, unable to finish his thought.

“Take that sandal off,” Leyli ordered in a panic. “Throw it out! Good gods, What WAS that?!”

Noina was still on the floor behind her brother, a weeping mess.

“What was that?” Leyli repeated. “Where did that even COME from?!”

“It just flew out of nowhere!” Rowan claimed with a shaky voice.

“Was it near the table all this time?” Leyli asked. “I didn’t see it. Oh—” She was on the verge of vomiting. “That looked like one of those tiny garden beetles did it not? I didn’t know it could get in THAT big of a size!”

“It doesn’t,” Zahir said quietly.

“What?”

“A garden beetle doesn’t exist in this large of a size.” Zahir’s eyes shifted over to Zara.

Leyli and Rowan speechlessly looked at each other, then followed Zahir’s gaze. Noina was too busy sobbing over herself to understand what anything meant.

Zara remained at the table, unmoved. Out of all the powers she could make work as randomly as fattening a beetle four times its size, she wished she had one to make herself vanish at will.