Chapter 2
“You’re glowing, Malira.”
Edran’s voice was a whisper against my ear, his strong arms encircling my waist from behind. His hands—calloused from years of labour—rested gently over my stomach, as though already cradling the life we had prayed so desperately for.
I turned, reaching up to cup his sun-bronzed face, feeling the rough stubble against my palms. His hazel eyes brimmed with quiet hope. My throat tightened.
“What do you see in me that gives you such certainty?” I asked, tracing along the scar that curved from his temple to his jaw.
Edran captured my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. “I can feel it in my heart.” He interlaced our fingers, placing it over the gentle beat within his chest.
I kissed his soft lips, tasting the faint sweetness of date honey.
“It is much too early to know.” My voice was careful, though my heart ached to believe him. “All we can do is pray the Heavens will bless us this time.”
“You will be,” he murmured, brushing his lips over my forehead.
He gently traced circles on my back and began to hum, the same melody he always sang when my sorrow threatened to swallow me whole.
I closed my eyes, melting into him as the familiar tune washed over me.
He knew the weight I carried. The ache of endless prayers left unanswered, of whispered condolences from midwives, of the pitiful glances from village women who had given birth to child after child while my arms remained empty.
For fifteen long years, we’d hoped, prayed, wept, and every attempt ended in silence. No heartbeat, no flutter of life, only the pain of absence. And now, time had turned against me. My body, once ripe with promise, had grown traitorous with age.
The cruel truth was that the fault was mine. I couldn’t prove it, but I felt it—deep beneath my skin, deep within the hollow of my womb.
Perhaps that was why, in my darkest hour, I remembered the stories. The whispers of a legend spoken in hushed tones around cooking fires and behind cupped hands.
The tale of Zaheera
The Firewalker.
A Jinn of ethereal beauty and terrible power. A spirit who granted impossible desires... for a price.
Many had tired. Too many. They followed the ritual passed down in fragments:
Enter the forest where the trees are oldest. Where no bird sings and no wind stirs.
Then speak her name. Once. Only once.
And wish—not with words, but from the aching centre of your soul.
Zaheera did not answer every cry. She did not bow to sorrow, nor bargain with those who treated her like a legend to be summoned on demand. She only came to people she deemed worthy.
Through years of failures—endless attempts to summon her only to be met with silence, belief faded into myth. Hope curdled into superstition. Until none dared to call upon her anymore, for fear of being met with only the cruel laughter of the wind.
My own desperation gnawed at me. The want of something I knew I could not reach weighed heavily against my already fragile mind.
Would she come for me?
And so, I made a choice.
The rest of the day had flown by in a haze, the endless possibilities unspooling into anxious ticks. Tapping my finger rhythmically against any surface I touched. Biting my nails until they bled.
Once night descended upon the village and Edran had fallen asleep, I slipped out of our bed, the woven mat rustling lightly beneath my bare feet. I draped thick wool over my head like a hood, pulling one end over my face to guard against the chill.
I stole one last glance at Edran. His chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm, one arm stretched across the space where I should have been.
Guilt twisted in my stomach like a sharp dagger, but I could not stop now. I placed a hand over my heart and whispered, “Forgive me.”
I stepped out into the inky darkness, the air crisp with the scent of night-blooming jasmine. The moon hung high above our village, a silver eye watching as I made my way toward the forest’s edge.
The deeper I went, the more the shadows stretched, stirring like unseen figures lurking just beyond reach of my lantern’s flickering glow.
At last, I reached a small clearing where the trees bowed back, making way for the full moon’s light. The ghostly light bathing the clearing in eerie luminescence.
I placed the lantern onto the ground and lifted my gaze to the Heavens. The stars pulsed above me, watching. Waiting.
I closed my eyes.
“Zaheera.”
Her name passed my lips like a prayer.
I wished with my soul, my hands clasped.
Silence.
Tears slipped from my closed eyes as hope left my body. The quiet was a cruel mockery of my mounting sorrow.
I was foolish to think she would answer my call.
Suddenly the air grew heavy, pressing against my skin like wet silk. The lantern’s flame shuddered violently before extinguishing, plunging me into darkness. A thick, curling smoke rose from the ground, twisting and writhing.
And then she appeared.
Zaheera.
She was otherworldly. Terrible and beautiful all at once. Her dark skin, smooth as polished obsidian, gleamed under the moonlight, her presence laced with menace and majesty alike.
Shimmering black fabric wrapped around her in intricate layers, revealing glimpses of flesh.
Chains of delicate gold were draped over her neck, arms, and ankles, each glinting as she moved.
Tinkling softly, like distant bells. Her hair—as dark as the void—wove down in braids adorned with golden clasps, shifting like liquid shadow.
And her eyes—
They smouldered like twin embers in the darkness, pinning me in place. I could not move, could not breathe beneath that gaze.
A small smile spread across her lips as she lifted her chin, exuding power.
“I am Zaheera,” she said, her voice a melody of velvet and venom. It slithered from ear to ear as if she was everywhere at once, though she stood completely still.
“Why do you call upon me, mortal?”
“I… I…” The words stuck like honey to my tongue.
She chuckled, a sound like fire crackling over dry wood. “Your heart speaks loudly enough.” She circled me, her bare feet making no sound on the forest floor. “A child. You wish for a child of your own.”
Hope began to flare in my chest, bright and painful. “Can you—”
“I hear your cry,” she interrupted, stopping directly before me, “and I feel your sorrow. I will grant you what your heart desires.”
She lifted a hand to my face, her fingers warm against my cheek—too warm, as though she carried fire within her veins.
I tried to lean into the touch, starved for the promise it held. She pulled back, clasping her hands together.
“But…”
The word dropped like a stone into still water. Her smile widened, the cold light catching on her perfect teeth.
“A bargain must be made. One that cannot be undone.”
I locked my hands into fists, pressing my nails so deep it burned. “Will I know the terms before I agree?”
Zaheera’s laughter was quiet as she began circling me again. “Ahh… clever girl,” she purred, trailing a burning fingertip across my shoulders. “But no.”
Her ember eyes gleamed with ancient knowledge. “You will agree first. Only then shall I grant your heart’s desire.”
A pulse of fear thrummed beneath my skin. My mind raced, warning me—begging me to turn back. To run. To return to Edran’s safe embrace and forget this madness.
But I couldn’t.
My entire life had been spent yearning for the chance to be a mother. To cradle my own child. To silence the whispers of the village. To give Edran what he longed for.
“What will happen if I refuse?” I asked.
Zaheera’s eyes narrowed. “Then you will leave as you came.” She gestured toward the path from which I’d entered. “Empty.”
The word struck deep.
Empty.
As I had always been.
Zaheera watched me closely, her patience clearly thinning. The air around her wavering with heat. “Your time with me is ending,” she warned. “You must decide. Now.”
I looked to the ground, to the swirling leaves at my feet. Tears pricked at my eyes.
“I agree.”
The moment the words left me, I knew I had made a mistake.
A rush of something dark and ancient filled the air. The trees around us groaned and bent, bowing to Zaheera’s power. Fear gripped me like talons raking through my chest.
Zaheera’s hands settled on my shoulders and she leaned in, her breath smelling of woodsmoke. Before I could react, she pressed her lips to mine.
A sharp, burning heat flooded my body, starting at my mouth and racing downward, igniting every nerve. Every cell. Thick smoke curled around us, and then I heard them.
Whispers.
They rose from the darkness, speaking words I could not understand.
I struggled, pushing against her chest, but her grip was like steel.
She exhaled. A breath of fire. Of magic. Of something unnatural. It consumed me, searing through my veins like molten rock.
I convulsed, my knees nearly giving out as the sensation spread, coiling in my womb like a snake. I tried to cry out, but no sound emerged.
As quickly as it began, it was over.
Zaheera released me, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. I collapsed to my knees, gasping. My skin slick with sweat despite the cool night air.
“It is done,” she announced, her voice echoing in the clearing.
I pressed a shaky hand to my stomach, already feeling something different. A presence.
“And the bargain?” I managed to ask, my voice raw as though I had been screaming for hours. “What is your price?”
Zaheera’s smile returned as she spoke.
But I could not hear her.
The pounding in my ears was too loud. My pulse roaring like thunder.
What have I done?
I sat frozen in place, eyes wide with disbelief. My mouth hung open like a gaping fish pulled from water. The sweet incense burning in the corner of the room turned acrid in my nostrils.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I managed to swallow. “What was the bargain?”
She didn’t answer straight away, her gaze darting between her hands and my face. The golden bangles on her wrists clinked softly as she fidgeted.