Chapter 8: Veil of Mist and Memory
Zirak stood silent, his brows knit in thought. Words of comfort eluded him as he watched Ravi, whose expression remained unreadable as he hid the mark, the dark sigil on his neck hidden beneath the turned-up collar of his robe.
Without a word, Ravi turned away.
"Don't let desperation take hold of you, Ravi!" Zirak called out, a tinge of frustration in his voice.
Ravi stopped, adjusting his sword as it slipped slightly from the sheath. He didn't turn around.
"It's not desperation," he said quietly. "It's ... I just don't know where to start. Maybe you think I'm guilty, too."
A faint blue shimmer lit up Zirak's right hand. Ghostly azure hands materialized before Ravi like a wall, halting his steps. A moment later, the spectral barrier vanished as Zirak conjured a blue-hued chair beneath himself and sat.
"You're being hunted by the Azure Village," he said calmly. "And you carry the curse of the Dark Sigil. What's your plan?"
Ravi turned, his gaze steady.
"First, I need to remove this mark. I've found a way ... but it won't be easy."
Zirak gave a long pause before replying, "Then I'll help you. Whatever you need. For now, stay. Spend some time with your sister. She has missed you."
In a quiet room across the house, Zaara lay sleeping peacefully. Then, faint glowing lines appeared on her forehead—pale blue, like frost forming on glass. The markings slowly crawled down her body before rising again, encircling her like a silent wave.
Shards of ice formed around her, glittering in the dim light. The room's temperature dropped sharply. A pale mist seeped through the air ... and then, all at once, stillness. The mist dissipated, the ice faded, and warmth returned.
Zaara stirred, eyes fluttering open. She sat up, feeling refreshed and oddly energized, a quiet wonder in her expression. She washed up, staring at her cloak draped by the door. Only an hour? she was surprised to learn that she had slept only for an hour.
She quickly performed ablution and offered the Dhuhr prayer slowly, but steadily. Her head was wrapped in a white scarf. After performing the prayer, she placed the white scarf and jainamaz back at their proper places.
She tiptoed into the kitchen, intending to surprise her teacher—only to stop in her tracks as she saw her big brother working alongside her teacher. There they were. Cooking. Sort of.
Zirak, without turning, called out, "Sit at the table, Zaara. Lunch will be ready soon."
Ravi turned around and greeted Zaara with a Salam as he asked with a smile, "It's been a while, how's you doing?"
Zaara blinked and greeted back while thinking. How did they know every time?
Zirak, whisking something creamy in a bowl, added dryly, "I still can't believe you're my student, Ravi. Your cooking skills are as tragic as ever."
Beside him, Ravi stood in front of what might have once been eggs and bread—now burnt and blackened, giving off a scent that Zaara was pretty sure counted as a health hazard. Ravi let out a defeated sigh.
"Cooking isn't exactly my calling."
"Yes," Zirak muttered, putting the mixture from his spoon on a bread, "but I was foolish enough to hope my masterclass might've improved you."
Soon, the table was filled with an array of delicious dishes. The three of them offered dua of when beginning the meal. Ravi and Zirak barely touched the food, but they finished their plates, though Zaara ate heartily.
When the meal was finished, they offered the dua of after finishing the meal, and then Zirak smiled faintly. "Let's go out today, Zaara. You deserve a little break."
Antiarena City was soaked in the rain.
The storm had rolled in without warning. The sky was leaden, the wind soft, and the streets shimmered with water. Rain fell in sheets, drumming rhythmically on rooftops and stone walls.
Zaara twirled under her white rain cloak, beaming. The cold rain thrilled her, while Ravi's grey robe shimmered as droplets slid off, untouched by moisture. Zirak's cloak clung to him with elegant folds as he walked beside them, quietly whispering with Ravi.
"What kind of artificial essence did you use to conceal Zaara's true nature?" Ravi asked.
"Icy Crystalline Neblina," Zirak replied, watching Zaara's joyful movements with half-closed eyes. "A rare essence power. Nearly extinct."
Ravi exhaled softly. "So ... her aspect is like his ... our father?"
Zirak gave a slow nod.
"Yes. Her true aspect—Ghost Monarch—but it was still in its dormant state."
They both looked ahead in silence as Zaara danced between puddles, her laughter echoing softly through the rain.