AHHHHHH ANOTHER CHAPTER? HELLLL YES Y'ALL. I'M BACK AT IT!

EXTRAORDINARY

10

Pompous

OMNISCIENT

The young man didn't sign up for this. When he decided to join the Raqh Guard, he believed he was doing his duty as a protector of Kalaraq's citizens. This would involved arresting thieves, bandits, rapists, and killers. This would involve identifying unrest within the country whilst respecting the people of the land. He did not, however, expect that he would be sent in with other members of the Raqh Guard into the depths of the notoriously deadly jungles.

He cursed his superiors, who sent him down as punishment for abandoning his post the other day. Nobody deserved to face this beast—not even the scum of the country.

"Man, this sucks," one of the other guards said to him as they grunted and grumbled, forcing their way through the thickest part of the jungle. "There's so many—" he groaned "—trees!" he said as he pushed aside stubborn branches and kicked fruitlessly at stiff roots.

"It's a jungle, Caz," the young man said grimly, glancing at his friend whose hollowed cheeks tightened and loosened with every step. "There's nothing much we can do about this."

Caz harrumphed. "I guess. I get that the people want this thing out of their lives, but isn't there a safer way to do this? I mean, almost all the guards before us were killed. Don't they care about us?"

"They care about their families, just like we do. We are the Raqh Guard. Our first duty is to protect—"

"Shut up," Caz interrupted him. "Adil… do you hear that?"

"What? I don't hear anything," Adil paused. "Caz?"

"Sh," he hushed him, pointing a finger to his mouth. "I'm gonna go investigate."

"Wait, Caz, I don't think that's such a good idea!" but before Adil could stop him, Caz was out of sight.

For a few moments, it was quiet. Adil almost felt at peace there in the jungle, surrounded by poisonous plants, thorns, hideous trees oozing with sap and swarmed with insects. It was musty, thick, and the closeness of everything made him almost claustrophobic, yet still, he was at peace.

And suddenly, a scream thundered in the air. Adil whipped around, calling out for his friend. "Caz? Caz! Caz, this isn't funny! I'm done with your jokes! Just come out!" he bellowed, but nobody responded. "We can head back, now! I'm sure the other guards are waiting for us outside the jungle borders! Caz!"

Instead of Caz calling back, Adil heard a low grumbling. It was quiet and subtle, but as eerie and ominous as the rumble of a volcano.

When he turned, he saw the glowing pink eyes, the eyes that everyone talked about, the eyes that would supposedly make you paralyzed so that the beast could attack you.

But Adil noticed he wasn't paralyzed. If he was, he wouldn't have started running for his life

Ja'Far

"Geez, what a letdown," Mystras mumbled through a few coughs.

It really was a letdown.

What Ja'Far expected to see was a great hall filled with all kinds of equipment, golden tools gleaming with the promise of productivity, flying around and buzzing away while magoi ran through their veins.

Instead, he saw an unexpectedly small and dark room, lit with only a single, weeping candle from a broken chandelier. Rather than glowing objects alive with energy, Ja'Far's eyes wandered over large piles of gray and blackened metal. Sprockets and strips of the scrapped tools poked in and out of the piles, jumbled together in such disarray that Ja'Far found it incredibly difficult to picture them as being once useful at all. Dust flew around him in clouds, swarming his lungs and cloaking the room and masses of the dead magic tools in a layer of neglect. Ja'Far had never actually seen magic tools before, but he assumed there would be at least some sign of power in their design. He assumed they would be noisy and clamorous, but the room rang with absolute silence; not a single whirr of life could reach his ears.

"What is this?" Hinahoho asked as he covered his nose with his brawny forearm to shield himself from the sooty air.

"It's history," Balbir squashed a rampaging bug with his foot. "These are all the magic tools that we can no longer use."

Lakita squeezed her nose, resulting in a high, nasal tone, "Which is all of them," she kicked one of the tools nearby her foot and it crumbled like glass upon impact. "It's all junk, now."

"Hey, look!" Rohan exclaimed, grabbing a mass of gray from one of the piles, "I haven't seen one of these in forever!"

Ja'Far paced over to him, standing on his toes to sneak a glance. "What is it?" he asked as Rohan handed it over to him. His chest burned with curiosity as he turned the artifact over in his palms. It was a simple sphere, black by what appeared to be burns, matted with wear, and maimed with dents. To the boy, it looked nothing more than a distressed shotput ball, similar to the ones that he had once used for training as an assassin.

"Can't you tell?" Zahra sounded amused. Ja'Far watched, puzzled, as she pointed to different parts of the thing. "It's a candle."

"Huh?"

"Our magic tools used to have these things called pida lakah, which are basically specific areas on the tool that you have to touch in order for them to work. Like here," Zahra gestured to an elevated circle on the sphere.

Ja'Far seemed to understand the cue, and he obediently pressed his thumb to the button. Pressure points? He jumped in surprise when the sphere sprang open, unfolding along lines that Ja'Far swore weren't there before. The metal melted away in Ja'Far's hands into the formation of a lotus flower. As Zahra predicted, there was a small space in the middle where old wax was obstinately glued to. Ja'Far brought the object to eye level. It was rather beautiful, actually. "Why can't you use them anymore?" he asked.

"Well, magic tools run on magoi," Balbir explained as he tossed an unrecognizable block of metal from one hand to the other. "But our magic tools were specifically designed so that they ran on the magoi of the island itself. The energy of life, if you will. Some time ago, people started running into problems with their magic tools. They'd shut down randomly. It would be the little things first, like watering wells and magoi-powered doorknobs."

"I remember my mama tried to make tea for me when I was sick once, but the magic tool pot that we used never boiled the water. It just didn't work anymore," Lakita offered.

Zahra flicked the lotus candle in Ja'Far's hand. "Then it got worse. The banks in the country used magoi-encrypted vault systems and farms relied on magic tools for their irrigation methods, so when the power starting going out, the banks were being robbed, crops died, everything just started falling apart."

"They called it Ak-aro, or Great Blackout, in the common tongue," Rohan said, "But it was beyond my time."

Lakita turned to Ja'Far suddenly, grabbing his hands in a frenzied motion. She beamed, placing a smooth object in his hand. "This is a tawie light," her eyes dimmed a little. "Or, what's left of one."

The thing was cold—icy, even. Shivers ran across Ja'Far's shoulders as he opened his hands to look at the dark, cracked stone the little girl had handed him. There were lines and dots engraved all over its surface, weaving in and around each other before meeting in a single lopsided semi-circle. He could almost feel the echoes of energy flowing through it.

Hinahoho and Mystras peered over his shoulder, fighting for a glance. "So that thing lights up? Just like that?" Mystras asked.

"No fire? No sparks?" Hinahoho continued.

"Nope. Just pure magoi," Lakita confirmed.

Ja'Far's eyes found Sinbad's, who looked around the room with that all-too-familiar glint in his eye. He didn't want to believe it, but Ja'Far knew that it had gotten much more prominent since his frequent meetings with Barbarossa. It was hard to look at, too—that cunning that was so potent that felt like watching him pierce the people around him with poisoned needles.

"This is what Kalaraq's really about?" Sinbad asked as he kept looking around. His fists were clenched, Ja'Far noticed.

"This is what Kalaraq was about," Zahra corrected.

"That's kind of sad."

The words escaped Ja'Far's lips unintentionally. Zahra delivered a small smile his way, but he couldn't tell whether it was from gratitude or sorrow or neither. Regardless, he was caught off guard. He looked away.

"Let's go. This is depressing, right, kids?" Ja'Far cringed at Balbir's last words. The man began leading the group out of the room again, Lakita quick on his heels like an eager pup.

Sinbad turned to Zahra while the others filed out. "I guess Kalaraq is as ordinary as any other country now. I'm sorry," but Ja'Far could find no remorse in his eyes.

With a airy chuckle, the girl turned to Ja'Far. Her eyes darted from his to the candle, his to the candle, his to the candle, over and over. Ja'Far understood, and held it out to her. To his bewilderment, Zahra took the candle, a piece of history, and tossed it over her shoulder. Ja'Far watched incredulously as the tool smashed to pieces and lifeless petals, burnt bits and drops of wax scattered across the floor instantly. Then, he saw Sinbad's expression falter when Zahra looked his way. What did she say? Did she say anything at all? He cursed his height with urgent contempt. Why did he have a strange feeling in his stomach? It was different than all the times before; it was different than the one that slipped through his veins at the name 'Kalaraq'.

No, this time he tensed at the tinkle of Zahra's bells as she walked away.

Ja'Far noticed Sinbad's gaze follow her, and suddenly, Ja'Far remembered Serendine, Queen Mira, Serendine again, and the fruity-haired woman at the tavern.

Yet, the foreign, peculiar feeling in his stomach left him indisputably frustrated and confused.

Mystras

"You can spend the night in Zahra's room!"

Mystras almost spit out his drink. "WHAT?!" he turned surprisedly to Rohan and Zahra who had cried out with him in unison. Throughout his entire life, he was urged to avoid any contact with women in general, let alone sleep in the same bedroom as one. He decided that it was an outrageous notion, one that he would probably have wished for in some other time, but with Pipirika at his side, he found himself wholly disinterested in other women.

"Lakita, dear, I think we can find Mystras a more suitable room," Balbir said assuredly, before whispering to the girl to finish her greens lest her mother's anger reached Pari's house.

"If you say so," Lakita chomped on the last bit of her pit-roasted vegetables. She glanced Mystras' way at some point, and he swore there was an apology spread across her childish features. Sometimes he would look at her and remember his own brother, Spartos, who was probably around the same age as her. He'd bury those thoughts of his home and family quite quickly. He didn't really know why, though.

A chair screeching against the stone floor snapped Mystras out of his daydreaming. "I'll start cleaning up," Faraz said as he began clearing away the plates from the table.

Lakita jumped out of her chair, "I'll help you, Faraz!" her smile eager as ever.

The boy snickered, picking her up and placing her back in the chair. "You stay here, Laki. You can't even reach the countertop, yet." A solemn, defeated expression overcame her adorable face, but she agreed ruefully as he ruffled her mess of periwinkle hair.

"I got you, Faraz," Hinahoho announced before joining the young man. Lakita gasped in wonder as Hinahoho balanced four, five, six plates on his trunk-like arm and offered it to an equally surprised Faraz. "So, what is it you were saying about your husband, Pari?"

"Ah, yes," Pari's expression relaxed upon remembering the topic at hand. "It seems that he's fallen ill overseas. I think I will be taking the next ship to see him."

"Overseas? Where is he?"

"Balbadd."

Mystras furrowed his brows. "What's he doing in Balbadd?"

"Oh, did Zahra and Rohan not tell you all?" Pari glared at her children, who looked away, abashed. Mystras was inexplicably overcome with a sense of deja vu. "If you must know, my husband is on a trip regarding 'diplomatic affairs', as he likes to call it."

It appalled Mystras that his first reaction was to glance at Sinbad's. As expected, he was now paying attention. Oddly enough, he realized that his leader had barely even touched his food. Pari had risen to clear the dinner table as well, and when she asked if Sinbad was alright, he responded with a kind smile and a nod. Still, his expression reverted to one that was pensive and neutral. He only began to notice these 'character switches' recently, but they made him uneasy nonetheless.

"He's been away for so long," said Rohan. "How long has it been now? Three months? Four?"

"Five," Zahra corrected as she cradled her cheek in her palm. A far-off look glazed over her brown eyes.

"He is a lord, after all," Lakita's tone was dull. Zahra shot her a glare, causing the child to slap a hand over her lips with realization for her apparent mistake. "Oops."

Ja'Far was surprised. "Your father is a lord?!" His amazement wasn't unfair, Mystras mused. Zahra and Rohan's home was humble, marked only with the luxuries of an impluvium, a few jolis, and an indoor garden. Other than that, the house was grounded in stone and wood, not marble and gold. Mystras recalled even his room was rather modest as well, save for the rosewood dresser and bed frame. Nevertheless, he would never expect a lord or nobleman to live in such a place.

"Y-Yeah," Zahra said, sighing wearily. "Nobles are appointed on basis of 'intellectual strength and individual tenacity'" she used air quotes, "not wealth or social status."

"Big surprise," Ja'Far mumbled.

"When will he be returning?" Sinbad asked.

"Soon, hopefully," Pari said, her maroon curls swishing as she glanced at them. "Small wonder he's sick. He's always working much too hard."

Mystras turned to face Sinbad, who was seated on the left corner of his vision. He could say the same for him, he realized. Despite his efforts to keep merry since the moment they'd gotten to the island, his weariness was still evident. In fact, Mystras could only recount Sinbad being himself when he was drunk in the Capital, ironically enough. But something had shifted in him. The young knight couldn't quite put his finger on what it was exactly, or what caused the shift to begin with. Even so, he knew there was something different in him, and he knew that both Ja'Far and Hinahoho were aware of it, too. But he just couldn't bring himself to confront him about it. His heart pinched. Typical.

Balbir suddenly slammed his hand flat on the table. "Okay, who wants to hear a ghost story?"

"Oh! Me! Me! Me!" Lakita cheered, raising her hands high above her head jovially. "Tell us a ghost story, Uncle Balbir!"

"Let's hear it!" Hinahoho said as he sauntered back to the group, gathering more plates for Faraz to clean up.

Mystras cursed them. He was always eager to listen to tales of the outside world, good and evil, beautiful and ugly, but he could never get used to ghost stories. For reasons unbeknownst to him, Spartos was always avidly interested in the eerie tales of demons, spirits, and the resurrected dead. Even his father insisted that it was as important to know God's enemies as it was to know God since God's enemies were man's enemies, or something along those lines. But to Mystras, these stories were only good for one thing, and that was keeping him sharply awake at night. Needless to say, he wasn't thrilled to hear another ghost story.

The elder man stood from the table abruptly as he clapped a fist to his chest and cleared his throat. "This is an ancient tale, one that has been passed down from generation to generation, from family to family, from father to son, from mother to daughter, for years and years and—"

"—Ugh, get on with it," Rohan whined.

"Hey!" Balbir scolded him, "I'm the storyteller here, so shut your mouth and listen well," he hemmed and continued his ballad in a distinctively lowered, baritone voice. "This is the tale of the horrible, murderous, all-powerful, all-terrifying," he grabbed Mystras' shoulders, sending waves of panic flashing across his skin, "... Mountain Monster," he growled by Mystras' ear. God, help me.

"Oh boy," Rohan rolled his eyes.

"Here we go again," Zahra muttered.

"Shh!" Lakita pressed her forefinger to her lips emphatically. "I'm trying to listen!"

"You've already heard this story, Lakita," Rohan threw his head back in grief. "We all have! A dozen times! It's such a lame one, too."

"Uh, excuse me? Lame?" Balbir slapped an open palm to his heart in theatrical agony. "My boy, how can a true tale be 'lame'? Now, where was I? Ah, yes!" he reverted back to his baritone voice and began pacing ominously around the table. "The Mountain Monster. There was once a group of men who decided to venture out to the northern mountains—the desolate, god-forsaken place that nobody in Kalaraq dared to step foot in. It's cold up there—so incredibly cold that the men's fingers and toes fell from their bodies like the dead leaves of a tree. Still, they pushed on, because they had a single goal: to seek the hidden treasure. Legend says that there are riches so beautiful and so rare that they are beyond the human imagination, and they are buried away in the depths of the great mountain, Ozdon."

"You name your mountains?" Ja'Far asked, unamused.

Balbir paused in his steps. "Y-Yes. But that's besides the point," the storyteller waved his man dismissively. "Anyways, these men were persistent and brave, so they pushed onwards on their death-defying journey. But one night," he paused, "when they were camping on the cliff in a pitched tent to protect themselves from a blizzard, one of the men awoke to a shadow created by something outside of the tent."

"Oh no, the Mountain Monster," Rohan said in a sing-song voice. "I wonder what—ow!" he cried, suddenly gripping his head from Balbir's smack.

"As I was saying," he continued, "the shadow was huge, the man noticed. It was much too big to be a person, but it didn't take the form of an animal, either… but when he looked carefully, he couldn't tell what it was anymore. He turned to warn his friends, his fellow adventurers, but," Balbir placed his hands on Zahra's shoulders, "they were gone."

Lakita gasped, and Rohan groaned loudly. The unsettling feeling in Mystras' stomach turned and turned, and he wondered if his fear was evident on his face. He bit his lip to keep his emotions under control.

"Keep going, Balbir," Faraz said as he took a seat to listen. "You're just getting to the good part."

"Right!" Balbir exclaimed. "When the man noticed that his friends were missing, he became numb with fear. He didn't know whether to flee or hide underneath his furskins. But, the man was too scared to see the monstrosity that lingered outside his tent, and so he quailed as he hid himself as best as he could. He was shivering now, but not from the cold of the blizzard air.

"Then the thing outside let out a great cry. They say it sounded like Ozdon itself was tearing apart, and the entire island shook when it screamed. The man let out a blood-curdling cry as the creature shredded his tent with its claws—claws that were as long and as sharp as fine Balbaddi swords. It was not a human, nor an animal, but an entire beast on its own. Strangely, it had no fur, and was as black as the night sky. It was enormous, probably twice my own height, and as muscular as a great baboon. It had long, dagger-like teeth, stained red from blood. However, the most frightening part of the creature was that its eyes were incredibly beautiful. They were dark and sparkling like black goldstone and as captivating as those of a most beautiful woman. The man was entranced by them, and for the smallest fraction of a moment, he fell in love with the creature's eyes."

"Gross," Zahra muttered.

"They were otherworldly and magical, so he couldn't help it. But his infatuation ended quickly as the monster proceeded to tear out his throat with a single swipe of its claws. It ravaged the body, eating flesh, organs, and even the bones—leaving nothing behind but bloodied snow.

"When the rest of Kalaraq found out that these men had gone missing, the government decided to set a law that nobody would pass through the northern mountains, especially Ozdon, until they determined that it was safe. To this day, drunkards, fools, and careless adventurers still try to find the hidden treasure, defying the law. However, nobody has returned alive. And so, the hidden Ozdon treasure, as well as The Mountain Monster, continue to live in the treacherous peaks of the Kalaraqi mountains… "

Balbir smiled, taking his seat and returning his voice to normal, "... or so the tale goes."

Zahra

The last few rays of the evening sun were peeking through the jolis of her home as Zahra walked unsteadily into the kitchen while holding a basket prepped for first aid. She threw in everything she could find in the house, including vinecloth, silk strips, turmeric, aloe vera leaves, antiseptic, powdered hot peppers, a stray bottle of arrack, matches, and yards upon yards of bandaging.

Peeking over the bundle in her arms, Zahra looked out to the dinner table, where Faraz was drying out the last few wooden plates. He caught her gaze and nodded approvingly with… a wink?

"Shit!" the action made Zahra's fingers fumble over the woven sugar cane in her hand. With a yelp, her arms moved in a craze to get the basket back in her grips. Damn, why would he do that? Her wrists tightened as she strengthened her grasp on her heap of remedies, and she breathed a sigh of relief. To her horror, Zahra heard a soft chuckle flutter from Faraz's lips. With a harrumph and a pout, she strutted over to her patient.

Mystras was waiting patiently on the ground, his legs crossed over the green-gold rug. He was always slow to anger and kind, soft-spoken at times, but Zahra had come to appreciate his gentle, clumsy character. Smiling, Zahra crouched down and sat across from him, laying the basket of goods beside her. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," she mimicked. "Are you sure you're okay with me redressing your wounds? I'm only Faraz's apprentice, so I'm not as good as he is."

"It's okay," Mystras grinned cheekily. "I trust you."

His smile and words reignited the flame of guilt in her belly. "R-Right," she said, and began unwrapping the bandages around Mystras' auburn hair. "So, how was dinner?"

"It was amazing!" Zahra was pleasantly surprised to see Mystras' eyes light up. "Your mom's curries are sooo much better than the ones I used to eat back home. Actually, I think they're the best curries I've ever had in my life!"

She laughed heartily. His enthusiasm was always welcome. "Yeah, we're famous for our curries," she said as she peeled the last bit of bandaging around a cut on his forehead. The material was stuck to the dried blood, so she tugged on it carefully with her fingertips, urging the skin to let it go. "And other things."

"Like," Mystras began counting these things off on his fingers, "how smart you guys are, how you used to basically run on magic tools, how beautiful the island is, how beautiful the people are—" Zahra couldn't help but giggle at his subsequent freakout. "I-I mean, y-you all are really a-a-a-attractive i-in that, I-I don't k-kn-know damn I shouldn't have said that I have a girlfriend but I guess I kind of mean it? Oh, what am I saying? I'M SORRY PIPIRI—"

"—Shh!" Zahra hushed him between laughs, afraid to wake the others. "It's okay. I get it. We do come from both Parthevian and Balbaddi ancestry, after all," she soaked a cloth with antiseptic and a sprinkle of turmeric, and began wiping down the cut on Mystras' forehead just as Faraz taught her. This seemed to calm him down, too. "I'm sure your girlfriend will be fine with you saying that the Kalaraqi are an attractive people," she hated herself for slipping a glance up at Faraz. He's not wrong. Solomon, she wanted to hit herself.

"I wanted to ask, Zahra," Mystras looked up at her. "Is everything alright?"

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"I mean, I guess we've all felt this weird vibe in the air. Like something's wrong. I-Is there anything wrong?"

"We shouldn't get them involved, Rohan."

"You're right."

"I'll stay quiet if you stay quiet."

"Deal. It is better this way, Z. No more people should get hurt."

After all, it's not their problem.

"No," she said, feigning confusion. "Everything's fine," she lied through her teeth. Analyzing her work, Zahra picked up a small bottle from the basket, popping it open to reveal a gold-pink paste. She scooped some of it into her hand, and gently ran it across the cut, masking the slash expertly. "There, that should speed up the healing process, I think," she plastered a small adhesive bandage to his forehead, much less cumbersome than the several feet of wrapping that concealed the shine of his hair that she so often admired. It reminded her of the tree trunks in the jungle, rusty and warm.

To her dismay, Mystras pressed on. "Are you sure? I mean, we've dealt with problems in other countries before. If there's anything we can do—"

"—No!" Zahra exclaimed, and when she saw the boy flinch, she forced herself to relax. "I'm sorry. It's just… I appreciate the thought, really, I do. But there's nothing to worry about," she urged him. Despite her efforts, he looked rather unconvinced. "You," she poked his chest playfully, "should focus on figuring out how to get back home. I'm sure your friends and family miss you."

For a moment, Mystras seemed to be staring right through her. "Yeah, I guess."

There was that pang of guilt again. As much as she enjoyed their company, she had to realize that these men were in crisis. Somehow, she kept forgetting that they were still in a whole new world, one that they still knew very, very little about.

Very little, indeed.

"Okay, you're good to go," she gave him a gentle pat on the cheek. "If there's anything you need, let me know," she said with all the kindness she could muster.

The knight's fingers reached the fresh bandage on his head, and he smiled approvingly. "Thanks, Zahra, for everything," he yawned, rubbing his eyes. "Goodnight," he bid her farewell as he stood up from the ground to retreat to his room.

"Nice job," Zahra whirled around at the sound of Sinbad's voice. He was leaning on a pillar, and when Zahra tilted her head in confusion, he gestured to his own head. "The bandaging, I mean. You've got a knack for it."

"Really?" she grinned sheepishly at the compliment. It wasn't something she hadn't heard before, though, so she didn't really know why it contented her. "Well, you're next," she said, patting the space on the rug that Mystras sat on.

Wordlessly, he sat down, crossing his legs as quietly as a shifting bird. She swiftly realized that she never actually saw a man undress before her. As Sinbad shimmied off his blazer, sliding the straps off his arms and over his fingertips, Zahra's eyebrow quivered and she averted her batting eyes. The basket quickly became her distraction, where she hopelessly rummaged for nothing in particular. But her actions bit back, where a sharp sting pierced through her thumb to the rest of her hand as her fingers moved between bottles and bandages and the bumps of the basket. In the midst of her escape, she had pricked herself on a splinter. Cursing under her breath, she yanked her hand out, flustered to the point that she didn't recognize Faraz standing right behind her.

"All good here?" he asked, to which Zahra jumped a little.

"Y-Yeah, everything's fine," she reassured him, hiding her hand from his line of sight. By the time Zahra glanced back at Sinbad, he had already taken off his vest, dress shirt, and, whatever those gold bands were around his waist, and was thus bare from head to hip. She'd seen Faraz and Rohan shirtless countless times without a problem—but admittedly not entirely true for the former—so Zahra decided it was Sinbad's apparent boredom that was beginning to anger her. Pompous.

"Alright then," Faraz said, his voice dyed with hues of suspicion and slight disdain. "Let me know if you need any help, Z," he said as he exited the kitchen.

"Okay, thank you!" Zahra called out after him. She turned back to Sinbad, who was sitting lazily with his head in his hands. "Hey, sit up," she said, tapping his back with a flick of her wrist, to which he scowled. "I can't work when you're hunched over like that."

Sinbad sighed but obediently, begrudgingly, straightened his posture. "Better?" sarcasm dripping through his lips.

"Better," she said, reaching for the antiseptic bottle. "You're awfully grumpy for someone who's about to have someone else lick their wounds."

His silence confirmed her accusation.

"Why?"

"I'm just thinking." Lakita and her damn mouth, she grumbled to herself. She had to figure out if he was planning something, anything.

"What're you thinking ab—" Zahra sealed her lips. Antiseptic seeped through the cloth and onto her splintered thumb, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out from the sharp, acid-like burn.

Sinbad looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "You okay?"

"F-Fine!" she squeaked out, but her rheumy eyes confessed what her tongue denied.

"Uh, no, you're clearly not okay," he said as he grabbed her hand, the antiseptic-soaked cloth dropping to the floor. He twisted and turned her wrist this way and that, golden eyes gliding here and there. "Are you hurt?"

"Like I said," she said through clenched jaws, "I'm fine," she spat as she tried to wrench her arm free, to no avail. "Would you let go of me?"

"Not until I see what's wrong with your hand. You can't help others if you can't help yourself first, you know."

The nerve of this man was starting to get on hers. "You don't need to give me lessons on ethics, foreigner. You tell me your gaudy stories and show me your fancy sword and now we're best friends? Think again—"

"—Found it," Sinbad said flatly, locking her thumb with his own. "A splinter? That's what's got you teary-eyed?" her pride shrivelled like a grape in Kalaraqi sun. "It's not even that deep."

Zahra came to hate tears and their uselessness in that very instant, cursing them for their false sentiment. "Why are you suddenly such an asshole?"

Silence. She hated silence.

Her rage began to bubble over, and she did nothing to stop it.

"So this is who you really are, and the guy I met in the hut last night was a drunk lie. What about Lakita? Why were you so kind to her and yet you-you—wait—hey!" she yelped when he brought her thumb to his lips. "The hell do you think you're doing?!" she cried, desperately keeping her hand from contact.

His jaw tightened with frustration. It was almost relieving to finally see him reveal some sort of emotion. On that note, Zahra was beginning to feel that she was arguing with a little child—better yet— a little girl, wracked with hormonal fluctuations and astoundingly steep mood swings. "Helping you. The easiest way to take out a splinter is to just suck it out." She couldn't believe her ears.

"What?! No it's not! Solomon, you're an idiot and an asshole," her tongue like poison. "Now, let—" she jerked her arm, "—go!"

But he didn't. "Not until you explain to me what you meant by 'your own adventure stories,'" he snarled.

Oh. Right.

Zahra didn't really know what she meant by that anymore. She tended to do that—make promises, swear oaths, whisper mysteries without paying much heed into the meanings of her words. Back at the academia center, she must have had some sort of trust in him, otherwise she wouldn't have told him that she had adventure stories of her own, ones that eclipse the boring tales of Kalaraqi research, philosophy, and endless academics. Behaving the way he was now, she wouldn't have told him anything at all. However, the tensing grip on her wrist had no intention of letting her get away with any excuses. "It was nothing." She decided it was worth a shot, anyways.

"Do you always lie like that?" he asked. "Right to someone's face?"

She gulped. "I'm not lying."

"Just like that, huh?" he scorned. "How unbecoming. You're not telling me something. The strange statue of your king, the old magic tools, the lordship of your own father? What is all this? Why do you hide such important things until someone else brings it up?"

"Because it's none of your business," she said. "You are a foreigner here, and just like you said last night, you're working on a way out. You don't need to butt your nose in other people's lives in the meantime!"

"Well, I'm right here in Kalaraq. I'm sitting right before your eyes. Therefore, I am a part of your life, now."

That was indisputable. He put it in concise, almost mathematical terms. It was a familiar way of speaking, one that she heard and used when studying with Uncle Balbir. When did he pick it up? Was he speaking to her this way to prove something? When did this become so game-like?

"Okay then, foreigner," she sneered as she yanked her arm to draw him nearer, "If you want to know so bad, I'll take you to see Kalaraq—real Kalaraq, but only on one condition."

"Name it."

"You don't tell your friends until I say so."

Sinbad gawked at her. "You're kidding, right?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why?"

A good question. Why was she making this offer to him and only him? Why not Mystras—sweet, gentle Mystras? Or Ja'Far, who seemed like he hasn't had fun in years. A more suitable candidate would have been Hinahoho, who seemed the most honorable one of them all. Yet her ever-enigmatic spirit reached for this purple-haired, self-important prick.

Maybe the stories had taken their toll, after all. Maybe she did see something in the naked steel of the metal vessel. Maybe she had placed too much trust in a complete stranger, a habit that her mother had always reprimanded her for. Maybe she recognized some semblance of truth in his drunken state. But when he looked at her now, mere inches away from her face, eyes suddenly crashing with an electricity that proved he surely was no ordinary person, the mere concept of making the offer to anybody else in the entire world seemed inexcusable; deplorable; sinful, even.

She wouldn't tell him that, though.

"Get ready, then."

"What—" Sinbad's voice muffled when she threw his clothes in his face.

"We're going."

"Now?"

"Now, foreigner."

BIG UPDATE: GUYS IF YOU HAVEN'T RE-READ CHAPTER 1 YET PLEASE DO RIGHTTTTTT NOW (check out second half of the page) it is QUITE important, I am so sorry I keep updating that chapter but I think the beginning is so important and I was really in my feelings the other day so I think it's a good addition so PLEASE FOR YOUR OWN SAKE READ CHAPTER 1 (second half) it's super short but SUPER IMPORTANT!

ALSO I need an editor SO BAD. If anyone would like to edit my works (and I can edit yours in return!) PLEASE let me know, because I so desperately need someone to look over my work - I would truly appreciate it!

oh my GOD y'all I busted this shit out over the weekend instead of doing my essays LMFAO but it was fun to write I had fun I HOPE YOU GUYS HAD FUN TOO! So yes, Ja'Far's kind of a salty bitch right now and Sinbad is... well, post-Barbarossa/post-rip-village/post-rip-Serendine/just rip in general, so you know, mood swings, sadness, confusion, suspicion as FUCKKKK, and just... just RIP. I think I'm finally starting to pull this shit back together because I watched a bit of the animes and reread some bits as well. I have a VISION and I don't want to like you know let it go so I'm working hella hard getting refs and inspo from the books I read at school, the people around me, etc, etc, ETC!

Sooo yes so much stuff going on!

but canon characters are starting to figure shit out... if you couldn't tell :) And Zahra is... well. You'll see.

ANYWAYS I hope you guys liked this chapter! Again, thank you so so much for the lovely reviews, faves, and follows. I love you guys so so much, and thanks for supporting me on this journey!

Review responses!:

Anna: Hello lovely! Thank you so much for the kind review as always - your support is so so appreciated, and I'm glad that you empathize with the stuff that I'm working through with this fic. Yeah, I did a lot of planning - but it's starting to pick up (especially the next chapter ahHH sin/zahra is gonna get real cute). AND YES the moment I saw your comment about the pov changes I went back and changed everything, so NOW EVERYTHING has pov changes! Glad that it worked for you :) and thank you for letting me know so I could improve this fic!

guest: thanks yo! hope you enjoyed this new chapter!

Guest: THANK YOU! Hope you enjoiiiiiii!

Alright y'all, I gotta get to class, so imma go but I REALLY hope you liked this chapter so far, and if you got the time, please review, fave, follow, anything, and let me know what you think!

ADIOS!

~Ava