The boundary between the Jinn Realm and the Mortal World did not separate gently; it tore apart like a piece of silk screamed under tension.
Sumayra crashed onto the muddy bank of the Tigris River. The transition was brutal. One moment she was surrounded by the singing crystals and ozone-scented air of Meher-e-Ruhaniya; the next, she was face-first in the cold, wet slime of the human world.
The gravity here felt crushing. She gasped for air, choking on the thick, humid fog. It smelled of decaying algae and wet clay—so different from the burning purity of her own world.
She tried to stand, but her legs refused. Her royal armor felt like lead.
"Laleh..." she whispered, the name scraping her raw throat.
She clawed her fingers into the mud, dragging herself forward. The only thing guiding her was a faint, flickering square of yellow light in the distance—the window of Ayon's hut.
She reached the wooden door. She didn't knock. She threw her weight against it, bursting into the room.
Inside, the world was impossibly, maddeningly calm.
Ayon was sitting on his torn mat. The oil lamp cast long shadows. He held a needle and thread, mending a tear in his sleeve.
In. Out. In. Out.
He didn't jump. He simply tied off the thread, bit the end, and looked up.
Sumayra collapsed. "Ayon!"
Ayon set the shirt down gently. He rose with fluid grace, poured a cup of water, and knelt beside her.
"Drink," he said. His voice was a low rumble, devoid of fear.
Sumayra pushed the cup away. "How can you be so calm?" she screamed. "He took her! Zarthus... the Storm-Eater! He swallowed the magic of fifty Royal Guards! My power fed him! Even the Stone... it only protected me. But Laleh... he took her into the sky!"
Ayon listened. His face was unreadable, but his eyes shifted from the warm brown of the tea-seller to the deep, endless black of the Void.
"He is not in the sky, Sara," Ayon murmured.
He stood up and walked to the open door, looking out into the pitch-black night. The fog was thick. The river had fallen silent. Nature was holding its breath.
"He is here."
THUD.
The sound was heavy, like a falling boulder. The floorboards vibrated.
Then came a sound that wasn't a groan, but a hiss—like water hitting hot coals.
Sumayra scrambled backward. "He found us!"
Ayon didn't summon a weapon. He tilted his head.
"Stay here," he ordered.
"Don't!" Sumayra pleaded. "It's the Storm-Eater!"
Ayon sighed. "It is probably just the milkman."
Sumayra stared at him. "What?"
"The milkmen in this town are shy," Ayon deadpanned. "They drop the delivery and run."
"This is not the time for jokes!" Sumayra hissed.
"Do not worry, Princess," Ayon said, his voice dropping to a reassuring rumble. "I never leave my own behind."
He threw the door wide open.
The fog swirled in. And there, collapsed on the muddy threshold, lay a nightmare.
It was Zarthus.
But the titan was broken. He was curled in a fetal position, his massive frame shuddering.
He was not bleeding blood.
His grey skin was cracked like dry, broken pottery. From these cracks, thick, dark smoke leaked out, hissing as it touched the wet mud. Inside the cracks, a dying, unstable red light pulsed like cooling lava. He looked like a fire that was struggling to stay lit.
And clutching tight against his chest, shielded by his own broken body, was a small bundle.
Laleh.
She was asleep, unharmed, wrapped in the shredded remains of Zarthus's cloak.
"ANCHOR..." Zarthus rasped, smoke spilling from his lips instead of breath. "COLD... SO COLD..."
Sumayra stared. She saw the wounds on his back. They were swirling, black marks that looked like Absolute Null. They were eating the light of his body.
"What happened to him?" she whispered.
Ayon looked at the wounds. He recognized the signature of the Guardians of the Tigris—the shadow army he had left in the ruins.
"He picked a fight with the wrong house," Ayon said simply. "And the tenants put out his fire."
He stepped out. He grabbed the massive Jinn by the shoulder. His hand sizzled against the Jinn's hot skin, but Ayon didn't flinch.
"Up," Ayon commanded.
"NO... DARKNESS... WHITE EYES..." Zarthus babbled, his internal light flickering.
"They are gone," Ayon said. "You are with me now. Get up."
Ayon dragged the massive, smoking entity inside.
The hut felt tiny. Zarthus filled the room, the heat radiating from him making the air shimmer.
Ayon gently took Laleh and placed her on the mat. She sighed in her sleep.
Zarthus collapsed against the wall. The shadow-wounds on his back hissed, trying to extinguish his existence.
Sumayra looked at the wounds. "He is leaking essence. He will fade."
"No," Ayon said. "He just needs to cool down."
He fetched a bowl of water and a clean rag.
He knelt beside the shivering monster. He didn't try to stitch the skin—Jinn skin doesn't stitch.
He dipped the rag in the water. He pressed the cool, wet cloth against the cracking, smoking wounds on Zarthus's face.
Hiss.
Steam rose from the contact. Zarthus flinched, then froze.
"WHY..." Zarthus wheezed, smoke curling from his mouth. "WHY... NOT... EXTINGUISH?"
Ayon didn't look up. He gently wiped the soot and leaking energy from the monster's brow. The water seemed to seal the cracks, turning the angry red light into a calm, dormant grey.
"Because you brought the girl back," Ayon said quietly. "And because I don't want scorch marks on my floor."
He stood up, tossing the blackened rag into a bucket.
He looked at the crowded room. A sleeping princess. A smoking monster. A terrified Queen.
He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Sara," he said. "Check the pantry."
"Why?"
"Because," Ayon said, gesturing to the chaos. "I am going to need a lot more tea."
He looked down at Zarthus, who was staring at his own hands, watching the smoke slowly stop.
"And you," Ayon said to the monster. "Stop burning my carpet. It's the only one I have."
Zarthus blinked. The madness in his glowing eyes receded, replaced by confusion.
"CARPET?"
"Yes," Ayon said seriously. "Now, move your leg. You are blocking the kettle."
Ayon looked around the tiny space.
"Peace will be restored," he announced. "But we have one serious problem."
Sumayra looked up. "What?"
Ayon shook his head gravely.
"My room is ten feet wide," he said. "And I have only one mat."
He looked from the Princess to the smoking Monster.
"Now, amongst the three of you... who is going to sleep on the floor?"