Contraband

The haze of pain that washed over me disappeared as fast as it came. I rubbed my chest with apprehension, hesitant to move forth with my schedule. 

Should I risk it today? I felt for other signs of pain and discovered none. Rather, my urge to leave the hauntingly dark palace roared like fire through my veins.

I got up and restored my appearance on the jewel-encrusted mirror hanging on the wall. It leaned against it heavily. Almost as if its bearings were too much for it to hold.

The thin mirror was elongated in shape. Rectangular, with tarnished gold rims that emphasized its edges with a vintage appeal. Nonetheless, it looked akin to any other mirror. At least that's what I've been told. 

Normal, they say? What a good job I've done then, I thought with some reverence. A few years back I infused concealing magic into the mirror so it performs as a walk-in cell. Years of work and nights went without sleep. All for control. The power I will hold in just a few years’ time sends shivers down my back. The hunger rears its head. And it knows what is waiting for him. 

Revenge. Vengeance. Possession. They’ll mean nothing.

Once I catch you, Nailah. You’re going to face everything that I went through, tenfold. The fervour of my hatred is enough to kick-start my morning. Like motivation. I laughed pathetically.

I take the withered thing on my desk, careful to not get its crumbs on my clothes, and throw it into the beckoning thralls of the mirror. These encrypted cells are invincible for both humans and djinns. Hard to get in, hard to get out.

I didn’t think it’d work so much to my advantage, but here we are.

Sufian’s possessions maintained its VIP spot in my dungeon. I looked pointedly at the withered clump of djinn and girl as it joined the others in a heaped mesh, slowly regaining control of its limbs. Of course, I can kill it here and now, but what’d bring the fun in that?

I turned away from the mirror and it instinctively covered itself in its mirror glaze. I looked over the mess on my desk and realized that the black-seal documents were the only ones left untouched by the flames. Covered in hieroglyphs, I sought no interest in interpreting the passage. Khorasa has a good eye for these things, I admitted.

It felt like my eyes were gonna cross every time I even tried reading them. One of my weaknesses, of course… not that I’m ashamed of it or anything. The ancient texts are something I’ve always despised trying to interpret. Anyone who entertains the thought of losing brain cells is special... and not in a good way.

I grimaced while scanning the pages. Now that I think about it, Shareef looked quite interested in the documents.

“What if I…” I trailed off, absentmindedly.

I scattered some documents Shareef saw me organize on the table and left the rest in its folder. Now, whose eyes will you attract… I’m quite eager to find out.

Shareef’s careful gaze and clumsy handwork may be an act for all I know.

I left the room in a mess and had to think twice about whether it was worth the energy to clean it up. It’ll get messy again later, so there’s no point. I pulled a ring from the depths of my drawers and slipped it onto my pinky. It rested like a heavyweight, burdening me with the name of my house and the weight of this palace. This empire.

The underworld.

I ran my thumb over the Abraha insignia. A golden emblazoned crow in mid-flight and twisted the ring so it lay against my palm. I hated the sight of it. The weight. The feel of it was even worse.

Suddenly, a thought crossed my head at the resemblance of the black seal and my ring. A symbol that I failed to recognize but hazily suspected. The eerie eyes of an owl. Of course, she chose that over anything else. Sabrina, you cunning piece of shit.

One thing was certain, though. Shareef recognized the symbol. I rubbed my eyes as I left my room. The hall was empty save for the occasional maid or patrolling guard.

The environment became a blur as the trifles in my head started to multiply. Sabrina’s departure was definitely a relief. Yet something inside me hesitated. And it was the part of me that still cared.

I tried shoving down the worry that tried to bubble out of my chest and stared down a door.

I leaned my forehead against it, unable to tamper down my frustrations. “Stop worrying about that mutt, you goddamn fool,” I said, defeated.

The last letter she had sent only spurred me further. The Treasure of Nur, she told me, it would help me. Not you. That’s what Sabrina was looking for. I banged my fist against the wall.

It’s all with that other piece of shit. I groaned. I couldn’t even find her after all these years of searching.

Memories of her amber eyes twinkled behind my closed eyes. Tempting eyes. I shook my head free of the sight.

Eyes that were yet to shed tears of blood. I wanted to wrench them from their very sockets myself. Like the prized possessions Sufian has. I smirked at the surge of rage that compelled me to move.

I removed myself from the door and walked towards the interrogation chambers. Sabrina can wait. I have more pressing matters that don’t involve rogue princesses.

Or maybe they do. I suppressed a groan and walked into the luminescent room.

Along a wall, the mages strew up soaked crates, in what I assume, was holy water.

“Ya, wia kurr. Ya wia saori. Ya wia…” they chanted in harmony.

I noticed the difference in their cloaks, and with a start, I recalled they were from the liturgy. Five men huddled in a mix of bronze and white, leaned over writhing dark masses that littered the floor in an array of rotting human flesh, djinn remains, and crude oil.

Naturally, my hand flew to the collar of my thobe, increasing the need to hide my nose from the stench.

Skies, Sufian.

A retch from my left sent a bout of nausea through me. I had to close my eyes for a second before I turned to the sound and found a very ill-looking Faruq keeling on his side. Khorasa held his back as he struggled to regain his breathing. I bent down, pressing a hand to his forehead, ignoring the shared gasps echoing around me.

Their unnecessary commentary only irritated me further, and Khorasa quickly hushed the surrounding folk. Faruq’s nausea came not only from the stench.

“Resofa,” I breathed.

Faruq’s breathing halted for a quick second, and Khorasa shot me a panicked look. I nodded assuringly and then slowed Faruq’s racing heart in the next breath with a “slosena, din resofa.”

The pause spell lifted and Faruq’s panic attack eased into gasps. As if he was thirsty for water. I waved over a couple of maids and they helped him to his feet, taking him to the wall, where they dabbed at his face and comforted him accordingly.

I stood and watched as the mages scrambled back to their duties, awkwardly resuming their chanting.

“Come here, Shareef,” I said, comely.

He stumbled over his feet and lowered his head. His brown hair had flecks of black ooze sticking out at the ends. Did I tell you to roll in the goo? I thought, confused why he would voluntarily partake in something like this.

“Is the contraband ready?”

“Y-your highness,” he started, “the contraband might take some time to neutralize, especially since no one can nullify its protection spells. Mage Faruq barely started before doubling over in pain.”

I looked at where Faruq stood with his sister. Khorasa held his hand, and their dark skin glowed for a brief second, before fading away with a spark. A look of trepidation passed between them. If this is a hard enough task for them, then I’d have to step in.

I opened my mouth to speak when a loud noise thundered across the room.