Guess who's back, back again?

and oh my gosh is that a long chapter you see? yes. yes it is.


EXTRAORDINARY

11

Wonderstruck

Ja'Far

Ja'Far stumbled into bed, appreciative of the cool, silk bedding that welcomed his aching limbs with slippery ease. His fingers swam through the sheets as he groaned into his pillow. There were a good many things on his mind as he tried to squirm into a comfortable position. It had come to his abrupt understanding that Kalaraqi curry didn't quite sit well with him. Perhaps it was all the spices? Then there was the matter of Zahra and Rohan's father being a noble—where the hell did that come from? Why didn't anyone say anything about it before? And how could he be overseas if nobody knew about Kalaraq? Wait, but what if people around the world did know about Kalaraq, and it was just he that was out of the loop. Out of the loop? Ja'Far? Was that even possible?

He scowled to himself. The mere thought disgusted him as much as it did scare him.

But that wasn't what would likely keep him awake through the night. Instead, it was the fact that he had heard Balbir's Mountain Monster story before.

Ja'Far didn't take himself to be a superbly avid reader. It was only recently that he even learned to read properly under Rurumu's careful instruction, and whatever he read was somehow in relation to international business, company affairs, or the governmental policies of trade in other countries. Had he ever read anything for fun? Probably not; Ja'Far harrumphed at that. It was impossible that he ever read the tale, so he must have heard it during his childhood, or maybe he inadvertently eavesdropped on a conversation in Balbadd or Parthevia or Reim or…

The possibilities of the story's source began bubbling through his head. And then he wondered how on earth he had never heard of Kalaraq before. If he had known the story, and the story was about Kalaraq, then how…?

His mind spun, round and round in circles until the notion of sleep was light years away.

In the midst of his blizzard of thoughts, Ja'Far's fingers snaked under his pillow, and was surprised when his skin met a cold, smooth surface. He grabbed it, yanking the thing out to realize what it was—the tawie light that Lakita gave him back at the academia center. Turning onto his back, the boy held the broken stone up towards the ceiling, inspecting it as he twirled it over his fingertips. The lines were deliberate, he noticed, as they caught the light of the kerosene lamp by his bedside.

A country that ran on magoi. "Incredible," he mumbled to himself.

"Definitely."

Ja'Far shot upright in bed at the sound of a familiar voice. He slapped a hand to his chest in relief at the sight of his friend. "Mystras! You scared the hell out of me," he said with a sigh.

The knight laughed. "Sorry, didn't mean to catch you off guard, Ja'Far. What're you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Me neither."

A chuckle escaped Ja'Far's lips. "Ghost story?"

"N-No!" he cried, a touch of pink dusting his cheeks. Ja'Far raised a brow. "... okay, yeah," he cleared his throat. "May I come in?"

"Of course, sit wherever you want," Ja'Far gestured to Sinbad's empty bed, anyways.

"Where is he?" Mystras asked about their leader as he quietly shrank into the silk of his seat.

"He said he needed some air," Ja'Far lay down once again, staring at the ceiling. "He should be back soon, I think."

Mystras hummed. "Speaking of which, do you think Sinbad was acting weird today?"

"I think he's been acting weird for months," Ja'Far corrected him. It was true. He had scarce seen his leader smile since his deal with Barbarossa. In fact, it was probably only around Barbarossa that Sinbad had smiled the most.

"Yes, but, especially today," Mystras said. "I think he's suspicious of them, Ja'Far."

"Them?"

"Rohan, Zahra, Faraz, Pari, Balbir," he paused, "maybe even little Lakita. But why?"

"I don't know," Ja'Far replied. "But I can't deny that there's something weird in the air. There's so much history to this place," he tossed the tawie light to Mystras who caught it awkwardly in his hands, "and too many stones that we will probably have to unturn ourselves, since it seems that everyone else here wants to keep their underlying stories hidden."

"Well, maybe they're doing it for the best?"

The boy shrugged, not really convinced. "Maybe."

Mystras laughed to himself. "What if they don't even know what's going on?" he asked as he thumbed the stone between his fingers. "What if everything is a secret even to them, and they're not hiding this stuff on purpose?"

Ja'Far furrowed his brows.

He didn't think about that.

The boy flopped back on Sinbad's bed. "Nevermind, that's ridiculous. How can they not know?" he tittered nervously.

"Right," he said quietly. "Maybe… maybe we should leave."

"What?"

"We have so much work to do. Barbarossa's down payment isn't going to just magically appear in our hands. The purpose of our trip was to go set up a branch in Carthago and all we're doing right now is sitting on our asses doing absolutely nothing! Instead of listening to stories about mountain monsters, we should be trying to get out of here. We're just about to set Sinbad's—no, our dream—into motion, and I can't let this setback in a weird country get in the way!" Ja'Far declared, not realizing that his voice had risen significantly in volume.

He suddenly felt guilty at the hopeless look on Mystras' face. Shit, he thought to himself. Too far. "You're right, Ja'Far. But, don't you think this place is wonderful?"

"Wonderful?" he chuckled flippantly. "We got shipwrecked. This entire ordeal is anything but wonderful, if you ask me."

"I guess I mean that it's 'full of wonders', more than wonderful," Mystras said, rubbing the back of his head, as he always did when he told the truth, "especially with those really cool trees in the jungle, and the academia center, and the Capital, and…" he trailed off for a moment, "... and these people seem really nice."

How foolish. Ja'Far stood from his bed, walking over to his comrade. "Don't you think that's suspicious, Mystras?" he asked, reproach marring the ends of his words.

Mystras blinked. "Suspicious?"

"Yeah," he said. "Why would they suddenly take us in? Why aren't they telling us all these things? Something is up with this country, and if we don't find out what it is soon, I have a feeling we should leave before we do."

"What if we do find out soon? What then? If there's something wrong, we should help them—that's what we do, right?"

"You and I both know that's not the truth."

That is what Sinbad does when he sees an opportunity for profit; a chance to get something in return. The fact that they now had a connection with Kalaraqi nobility gave him plenty of room to play political games in what seemed to be a complicated country. With less than five months to secure the deal with Barbarossa, Ja'Far knew that Sinbad didn't have the time or need for that kind of nonsense—not anymore.

He wouldn't have it.

"We're wasting time," he said as he paced over to his window, the moon casting a jali-patterned shadow over his face.

"But, we haven't even been here for a week," said Mystras. "Don't you think you're overreacting, Ja'Far?"

"Overreacting?" he snapped a glare at his friend. "Maybe to you, because right now it seems like I'm the only one who's actually concerned about the situation at hand."

"That's not true, and you know it," Mystras said, suddenly sounding unusually irritated. "We're all worried about what tomorrow will bring, but if you haven't noticed, we have literally nothing but the clothes on our backs," he stood from the bed. "These people have fed us, clothed us, and given us a place to stay. If it weren't for them, we would be starving out in the middle of nowhere, or worse. If we have any chance of making our way back home, it'll be with the help of Zahra, Faraz, and the others."

Ja'Far glowered, relaxing his fisted hands. Then why is there a voice telling me that if we don't leave now, we never will?

A gentle hand clasped his shoulder. "Get some rest, Ja'Far. Don't worry, we'll be back on our way soon." He nodded in response, and Mystras started towards the door. "Besides, I'm sure Rurumu has done some scouting for us already in the Capital."

"Rurumu?"

"Yeah, Hinahoho just left with Rohan to bring her here to Etor."


Sinbad

"Wait, we have to go in there?"

"Yeah? What's the problem?"

Sinbad frowned. It wasn't that he was afraid of the darkness of the jungle, nor was he really afraid of being thrown around by another tree branch. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something telling him to stay as far as possible from the overgrown thicket. Still, it was a diminutive sense of danger compared to his ego. "Nothing."

"Good," Zahra's brusque remark almost stung. "Because if we want to be back before the sun rises, we have to go now," she said as she gripped the neck of her leather cloak. She eyed him curiously, pouting before reaching out to throw the hood of his own cloak over his head, covering his eyes. Sinbad adjusted it with a grunt, and followed her footsteps as they trudged into the depths of the jungle.

As an adventurer, Sinbad had faced perilous and often uncomfortable circumstances. Still, he couldn't help but wonder how on earth plants could grow so close together. There were layers of them, growing on top of one another as though they were fighting to survive. The further Zahra led him in, the more he felt that he shouldn't have been in there. I wonder if she feels the same way, he mused.

"You know where we're going right?" he called out between sputters as leaves and branches smacked his face.

"Of course!" she cried back, "I've been here hundreds of ti—oof!" her voice fell short as she toppled forward, disappearing beneath the coverage of fan-like leaves.

"Zahra!" Sinbad exclaimed, rushing to her side. "Are you okay?" he asked, heaving branches back and forth, looking under leaves and brushes to find her, but to no avail. Brows scrunched, he glanced about. What the hell?

She was gone?

Sinbad scratched his head, looking again in the area that he swore she fell. "Hey, where'd you go?" he bellowed. "Zahra?" He tried scanning his surroundings, but the trees seemed to close in around him; they were trapping him in. Creaks and groans flooded his hearing: the whispers of insect wings, the sway of leaves in the cool night air, and… words?

Silencing himself, he listened for them.

"... out."

"G…"

He laughed a little. You're hearing things. Stop bugging

"Get… out."

"Get out."

"Get out."

GET OUT.

Choking.

Sinbad suddenly felt like he was choking.

He wanted to cover his ears, but he had to listen for her reply. "Zahra, this isn't funny anymore. Zahra!"

Heart thrumming hard, smashing against his ribs, Sinbad quickly realized that he was completely alone. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he turned this way and that, but no matter which direction he faced, all he saw was jungle to the left, jungle to the right, jungle above and below and all around him. The ground beneath him seemed like it was creeping up his calves, and the leaves of the brush grew fingers, clawing, grabbing, prodding at him beneath his cloak. His vision began to swirl, dizzied, and he almost collapsed to the dirt in confusion and fear until—

"There you are!"

Lungs in his throat, Sinbad whipped around to see Zahra, standing a few feet away and brushing stray leaves off of her shoulders. He suddenly felt faint, and leaned on a nearby tree to support his buckling knees, ignoring the beetles that scattered away on the trunk. "Where the hell did you go?"

She managed to push her way through to him. "Don't mock me," she said defiantly as she rubbed away dirt on her lips with the back of her hand. "You're such a dick. I just fell, you know."

"What?" Sinbad was incredulous. "No, I'm not mocking you. Y-you disappeared. You fell right here," he pointed to the spot where she had supposedly fallen, "and then I couldn't find you, and then you ended up over there." Zahra shook her head, crossing her arms, looking at him as if he were a child.

"If I knew you were going to act like this, I wouldn't have brought you at all," she said, hands on hips.

"Are you crazy?"

"I should be asking you that!"

Sinbad was about to protest, but he thought about it for a moment, and suddenly realized that what he was saying really was crazy. How on earth could she have fallen in one place and appeared in another without him seeing her? It was impossible.

Did it even happen at all?

"Get out."

He gripped his head. "Nevermind. Lets keep going."

Sinbad expected her to chastise him, but instead, a twinge of concern made her lips crinkle. "Okay."

After walking for some time, Sinbad realized that he was laughably out of shape. All that time spent at his desk, eating food through all nighters filled with paperwork, and drinking—so much drinking—had taken a toll on his physique.

Zahra, however, seemed quite the opposite. She walked with ease, even though she had to work to push obstacles out of her way. It was with shame that he realized he was the only one out of breath when they finally came to a halt. He doubled over, breathing hard as he rested his hands on top of his thighs.

"We're here," Zahra breathed, something bubbling in her tone.

She's… excited?

Mustering the last of his strength, Sinbad straightened up to look at whatever it is she was marvelling at. To his dismay, he only saw a small entrance to what seemed to be a cave. It was carved away into a massive rock formation cloaked in shrubbery. Still, it was nothing special. "This is it?"

The girl harrumphed, a smirk playing over her lips. "Things aren't always what they seem," she said before ducking her head and entering into the doorless darkness. Sinbad sighed. She was going in with or without him.

He turned left and right, and his gaze fell upon a bust sculpture buried deep in the ground by the entrance. Deep green moss and purple fungi made the gleaming black sculpture their home, and hid its facial features. But he was able to identify engraved lines swirling all over its form. They were vaguely familiar.

Officially intrigued, he entered the cave.

Here goes nothing.


Rohan

"Sorry, you have how many kids?"

Hinahoho laughed again. "Three, and one more on the way!"

"Man, that's incredible. We're the same age, but you have your entire life together!" Rohan cried, reaching his hands behind his head as they walked down the path towards the Capital. "That's really admirable, you know?" he said wistfully.

"Nah, it isn't that big of a deal. I just really love my family, that's all there is to it," said Hinahoho. "But Sinbad always keeps me busy, so I'm never not working, either. It isn't easy."

Rohan could relate to that part. "Yeah, I understand. I'm always working in the western orchards."

"So you work the field? I saw the beautiful fruits from there at the market."

"Yeah, that's because of the ridiculous amount of magoi in the earth itself; it made the soil really fertile," Rohan explained, using exaggerated hand gestures to express just how much magoi he was talking about. "But Kalaraqi researchers discovered that they could actually extract the magoi directly from the land. They call it Harvesting."

"Ah, I see," Hinahoho nodded sagely, holding his chin in thought. "So that's how you powered all those magic tools?"

"Yeah. Most magic tools are obsolete, but there's still a few major things that we need magoi to power. An example would be the gate to Kalaraq itself—it's completely magoi-powered."

"I see, so that's why everyone was so shocked that we didn't have a kalahm pass—you need one to safely enter and leave Kalaraq through the gate."

"Bingo," Rohan confirmed. "But the gate is self-sufficient, so it doesn't really need humans to fix it. For people like me, who aren't as particularly gifted with science-y shit like most Kalaraqi, we're responsible for manual labor in other parts of the country. So, I'm a farmer."

According to his mother, it was 'unfortunate turn of fate' that Rohan wasn't an academic prodigy like his younger sister. He thought back to the gruelling hours spent under Uncle Balbir's teaching, the one-on-one sessions he spent with the best tutors his family could afford, and he remembered how he just couldn't grasp the material the way Zahra did in a heartbeat. As a child, he was much more transfixed on tinkering with the magic tools at home than understanding the nitty-gritty details of energy conversion, form and function, efficiency, circuitry, and everything else that made his head spin round.

"So people replaced the magic tools that used to do all the hard jobs. I take it that it's been like that since Ak-aro, huh?"

Rohan was impressed. "You're good at this."

"So I'm told," Hinahoho shrugged with a snicker. "What're you going to do when I'm picking up Rurumu?"

Shit. Rohan's tongue melted into jelly. "Oh, well, um, I kind of have to, uh, meet someone."

"Uh-huh," Damn, does he have to be this good? "This someone must be special—you're bumbling like a little girl."

"W-What? It's just a friend."

"Uh-huhhh," Hinahoho drawled.

"A friend, I swear."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Roro."

Rohan's heart dropped.

"Wait, where did you—how did you—"

Damn it, Zahra!

"We're here!" Hinahoho exclaimed.

Rohan didn't even notice that they'd entered into the Capital, overwhelmed by the rush of images jumping around in his head.

"Well, I'm going on ahead," Hinahoho announced with pride. "Tell me all about it later, yeah?" An elbow in the ribs, intended to be playful, almost sent Rohan crashing to the ground. He struggled to laugh casually.

"You're hilarious!"

"See ya, loverboy!" Hinahoho waved over his shoulder as they split ways.

Rohan shook his head, chuckling to himself. I like him.

He soon found himself on his own, standing at an all too familiar entrance. It had been some time since Rohan had visited Dead Sea Tavern, the most famous tavern in the entire Capital. It wasn't that he wasn't big on drinking (he drank like a fish), it was just that he was rather scared of one of the waitresses who worked at this particular tavern.

He watched as Hinahoho made his way to the inn. He had a few hours before meeting with him and Rurumu to return home, thus he had some time to kill. So, with a deep breath, he forced himself through the beaded curtain and into the darkness of the tavern. The fumes of tobacco and scent of alcohol danced in the air, mingling with the haughty laughter of drunk men and the strained giggles of weary waitresses. Rohan breathed it all in happily. So nostalgic.

"Rohan?"

He turned in response, only to face a pair of waitresses with beams of excitement practically shooting out of their eyes. "Uh, yeah? That's me."

They squealed, clasping each other's hands and bouncing on their heels. "Oh my gosh, it really is him!"

"He's so much hotter than I expected!" Excuse me?

"Oh my gosh, should we tell her?"

"Indra! That's such a bad idea!" she stared at the other girl intently for a moment. "Let's do it."

It took a few moments for everything to get through Rohan's thick skull. Realization hit him like a set of cinderblocks, and he felt all the blood drain from his face. "H-Hey, wait a minute! Don't—" but the two had already vanished behind a pair of swinging saloon doors, giggling maniacally.

Shit, shit, shit! Rohan cursed himself, frantically taking seat at the bar. Heart pumping, he fixed his hair, adjusted his bandana, and smoothed the wrinkles of his robes. Hands. What do I do with my hands? he thought, shifting this way and that on his stool until the bartender gave him several bizarre looks. It wasn't that he didn't have any confidence. It also wasn't that he didn't do well with women.

"You've got some nerve coming back here."

It was just that he messed up with this one.

Rohan gulped as he turned to face the rosy-haired waitress. "Listen, Omaira. I can explain—"

"What?" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "Are you going to explain why I haven't seen you for a whole month? Or the fact that you've been sleeping around with other girls?"

"WHAT?" Rohan cried. The bartender seemed to be getting increasingly irritated with his outlandish behavior. He hemmed an apology, turning to properly face the girl. "Omaira. That's a lie, because I haven't slept with anybody else but you."

"Oh yeah? Then tell me why you've been avoiding me."

"I got caught up with work. Monsoon season is almost here, and so we've been working twice as hard to prepare for it," Omaira didn't seem convinced, "and on top of that, my father is overseas right now. So, I have to be home more often."

"You couldn't have come to visit me just for a day? For an hour?" she frowned, turning away.

"I'm sorry, love," Rohan brought his hand to her cheek, turning to face him again. Her eyes burned with suspicion and affection, each slowly undoing one another. "I won't let it happen again. I'll come visit you at least twice a week from here on out."

Omaira pouted, crossing her arms over her chest, a washcloth between her fingers. "You promise?"

"I," Rohan smiled mischievously, and she returned it as a stubborn grin spread across her pink lips, "promise," Rohan said as he placed his hands on her hips, pulling her towards him. "Now, tell me how you've been."

"Same old, same old, you know?" she said. As she took a seat on a stool next to his, he noticed that she spoke same way she did every time he saw her: with weariness in her words. "The men grow more hungry, thirsty, and lustful with every passing day."

"Is that so?"

She shrugged, thin shoulders bouncing lightly. "Can't blame them, really. Both local and foreign merchants are making less and less money here in the Capital, since they keep racking up the prices of their products."

Trade hadn't been kind to Kalaraq for the past many years. There had already been major changes to the ways of Kalaraq. Countless methods and morals that Kalaraq held dear to her culture had been sacrificed in hopes of her people's survival. "We lose magic tools, we lose our independence, we lose our culture and our resources, but we magically discover a man-killing beast in the jungle," Rohan laughed despairingly. It all made him want to flee the country and never, ever return. "Solomon, this island is really going to shit, huh?"

"Maybe, but if that's the case, we can run away together," Omaira grinned, gripping his curled fist with her own hand. Whatever twinkled in her stone-gray eyes made Rohan weak in his seat, feeling as though he was falling in love with her as he did countless times before. "Anyways, tell me what's up with you."

"Ugh, where do I start?" Rohan sighed. "We took in some kids the other day."

"Kids?"

"Yeah, four foreigners. Travellers, all of them, hailing from different countries, though," he squinted, as though it would help him make out the expression of shock on Omaira's face. "What?"

"Wait a minute. I met them!"

"Huh?"

"Three of them came in the other day," she said. "A giant with blue hair, a little, sad kid with freckles, and—"

"A purple-haired prick?"

"Yeah!"

"That's them."

"And you took them all in?" Omaira's voice suddenly stooped to a whisper. "Rohan, do you think that's really such a good idea? I mean, they're foreign foreign. As in, they're not just like the foreign merchants who just hang out in the Capital, sell their shit, and leave. It's almost like they're…" she glanced around, as though to ensure nobody would hear her say: "... tourists!"

"How do you know all this?" Rohan raised a brow.

"I, uh, talked to them," she said.

He grimaced. That meant only one thing. "You mean you flirted with the purple-haired one, right?"

Omaira groaned loudly. "Relax, hon. I did it just to figure out who they were."

"You really are manipulative."

"I know," Omaira winked. "Anyways, I found out that they were shipwrecked, and that they had no idea how it even happened."

"Yeah, it was as if they didn't even remember how it happened."

What if they actually don't remember how it happened?

"... You don't think it was…"

"Omaira, no. I know you hear lots of crazy shit around here, but that is definitely not it."

"Okay, okay," she admitted. "Solomon, I'd switch places with them in a heartbeat. I wanna get out of here! How are they doing? Do they even like it in this hellhole of a country?"

Rohan didn't really know how to answer that. "I talked to Zahra about it, and we both agreed to keep quiet about the beast."

"That's probably for the best."

"They're just kids. It would be a shame if they got involved in it, somehow. There have already been more than enough victims just this month."

"Yeah, this could get bad, especially with everybody hating the King because of that thing in the jungle, and the trade industry collapsing to top it all off. They could totally hold sway over the politics here in no time. I told them about the Par'Qalb, but maybe that wasn't such a good idea after all."

"It's fine. I'm sure they've forgotten by now. If it comes up, I'll… I'll take care of it." Right?

The woman whined a little. "Hey, they could really cause a lot of trouble. You better keep an eye on them, eh?" she said, as though she suddenly had an epiphany of the days to come.

The man nodded. "Don't worry, I will. We don't need outside opinions and influence to suddenly tip scales around here. I've had enough of it already."

Omaira yawned, running a hand through her silken hair. "It would honestly be better for everyone if they just left."

Rohan couldn't have agreed more.


Sinbad

Sinbad coughed, blowing dust out of his eyes as he followed Zahra through a seemingly endless passageway. He recalled Pipirika explaining to him that he might be the type of person who didn't like small spaces after he had complained about their unsatisfactory working space at the company's headquarters. He'd grown out of it, he realized, and was ready to seek something bigger and better.

But perhaps he had grown up too quickly.

"Heads up, there's a bunch of stalactites coming our way, so mind your head!" she shouted over her shoulder.

"Where are you taking me anyways?"

They came to a torch, which was already burning as though it was just lit. Zahra picked it up from its hanger on the rock wall. "Impatient, huh?"

"Yeah," he frowned, "it's about time you told me the whole truth." Sinbad pulled the cloak tight near his collarbone. I'm… cold? he thought to himself. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this cold. Kalaraqi sun had been beating down on him for what seemed like forever, and he forgot what it meant to shiver.

Just as Zahra predicted, spikes hanging from the ceiling began blocking their path, increasing in size the further they walked. It seemed to be getting colder and colder as they walked. Sinbad was sure his teeth would shatter from their incessant chattering, and as much as he wanted to complain about it, he kept mum. How the hell is she not cold? he grumbled to himself. Soon enough, they had entered a chamber in the cave, where flowstones hung like oozing teeth and the stalactites sank to the ground to form columns over fifty feet tall. Zahra's torch illuminated it all, the flicker of its flame casting shadows on the rocks. The ceiling sparkled with the light, and it seemed as though millions of diamonds were blinking down at him as he followed the girl, mouth agape with awe. To Sinbad, the cave was coming alive.

This is… he didn't even notice that his breath had turned to steam. This is incredible. Nor did he notice that he had actually stopped in his tracks.

"Uh, Sinbad?"

Rattled, Sinbad turned to face Zahra's mocking smile wearing him down from afar. "Y-Yeah, sorry. I'm coming," he said, jogging towards her.

"This isn't what I wanted to show you."

"It isn't?"

"I told you: things aren't always what they seem," she said as she rounded a corner with a skip in her step, leaving the great chamber behind.

Sinbad followed.

Is that… running water? he thought, listening carefully as her footsteps faded away.

He turned the corner, and it felt as though the wind was knocked out of his chest.

"What the…" he breathed.

It was another chamber. But instead of the natural neglected flourish of the last one, this chamber was even bigger and wrought with human work and care. It was laden with writing all over the walls, where stone and mineral had been shaved away for canvas-space. Low-relief sculptures danced and stood watch over him, bound to the gray walls and sunken between lines upon lines of writing. They surrounded something even greater in the middle of the chamber—a gargantuan mountain of black sculptures and boulders, piled haphazardly on top of one another. Massive slabs of black rock, defaced with fissures that ran white along their surfaces, stuck out of the pile and littered the lake of water around it like stone guards. Water leaking from the ceiling slipped in and out of the structure, its path slowly mesmerizing Sinbad as he remained riveted to the ground.

"What are you waiting for?" Zahra called out to him. Sinbad realized she had removed her cloak, and was already standing on one of the stone slabs in the lake. She waved over to him, beckoning that he join her as she hopped from stone to stone. Despite her strong, toned legs, she wobbled from time to time as her hands whipped out from her sides to hold her balance.

"H-Hey! That's dangerous!" Sinbad exclaimed.

"Hah! I live for danger!" Zahra cried back as she stood straight, leaping from the last stone to the pile and landing as gracefully as a tiger. "What? Too scared?" she asked, challenging him while she slouched comfortably in the burly arms of a broken, headless sculpture.

Then something sparked in Sinbad's chest. Something caught fire for the first time in a long, long time.

"Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" he called back, shedding his cloak before springing onto the edge of the first slab. It was startlingly thinner than he had expected and rather slippery, so before Sinbad allowed himself the shame of losing to Zahra, he jumped once, twice, three times, and soon enough he had plowed hard into a boulder beside her.

"Hm, not bad. Though, I expected better from an accomplished dungeon capturer," Zahra said, calves swinging over the forearm of her stone prince.

He wouldn't be outdone so easily. "And how many times have you fallen from one of those stones into the water?" he asked. Her calves froze, and she looked away.

"Whatever."

"Mm-hm," he chuckled with satisfaction. Sinbad straightened his posture and managed to clamber on top of a pillar. He looked down the length of it, and discovered designs of flowers, vines, leaves, trees, and birds engraved white into the darkness.

"It's called obsidium," Zahra said as she plopped down beside him. "Well, that's what Maatanga told me."

"Who's Maatanga?" Sinbad asked.

But the way Zahra glanced at him quickly suggested the inappropriateness of his question.

"Come on, I wanna show you something," she said. Sinbad watched as she stepped on obsidium faces and ankles and chests, heaving herself higher and higher till she disappeared to the top of the pile. How the hell does she have so much energy? he thought before following suite.

Zahra was seated at the edge of the peak, the water from above dripping behind her and sprinkling gems into her hair. He noticed something in her hands. Curious, he sat down, leaning over her shoulder to look at the thing.

"What is that?" he asked.

"It's a piece of one of these tablets," she said before handing it to him. "Careful, it's kinda heavy."

It did have considerable weight in Sinbad's hands as he flipped and turned it, the wetness of his fingertips spreading streaks of droplets across the sleek surface. "It's nice, but it's just a stone."

And then she looked at him, derision like daggers in her eyes.

Things aren't always…

She placed a fingertip on the stone, fog gathering around her touch. Their eyes met, and Sinbad watched as a rogue strand of hair dipped between her brows. She grinned.

"Hirei qamar taraa."

Sinbad's breath caught as the stone quivered in his hands. Once black shine glowed white, and a scintillating light spread virulently across the surface of the tablet. He narrowed his eyes, grimacing as it slowly but surely grew brighter and brighter until Sinbad had no choice but to turn away. A sound reverberated throughout the chamber, and it vaguely reminded him of the familiar hum of Baal's lightning.

After a few moments, the light and vibrations faded away. The stone was hot—incredibly hot—but he was somehow able to hold it with little problem. Curious, he turned back to look at the tablet, and was overcome with awe to see lettering glowing softly on the slick surface, as though the script was just beneath a layer of glass. Triangles and circles and dashes shifted like white mercury, and Sinbad recognized it.

Torran.

"What does it say?" he asked.

"I don't know," Zahra confessed. "It's all… jumbled. I just can't make out actual sentences. It's almost as if it's a whole other dialect; it's not like the Torran I learned."

"Oh," Sinbad said. "That's too bad."

"Wait, can you, um," she trailed off, "maybe, decipher it?" she

"So, you need… help?" mischief dripped from his lips.

"I didn't say that."

Stubborn.

"You basically did."

"Can you do it or not?" she demanded, her voice as resolute as her jaw was tight.

Sinbad's brow twitched. "Okay, relax. I'll try," he said. It was difficult, now. It had been some time since Rurumu taught him how to read Torran. But, it was just as Zahra said: the words didn't cohere and he couldn't find any meaning in them. He looked up to search her eyes, and they were wracked with both hope and distress. It almost hurt him.

"You can't, right?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"It's okay. It was worth a shot," she said with a shrug, as though she was tossing her emotions down the pile. "So, should we head back?"

Sinbad hummed an agreement. But the rekindled fire in his heart begged otherwise.


Rurumu

No words were spoken as Hinahoho and Rurumu embraced each other. It had felt like years since they'd last seen each other, even though it had only been one night. Kikiriku gurgled happily in his mother's arms, and his father swung him high into the air, showering him with kisses and shakes that left the boy hiccupping with delight.

"I missed you. Both of you," Hinahoho said.

Rurumu shook her head. "Awh, how are you going to survive without me, sweetie?"

He snickered. "I can't, darling," he said, planting a kiss on her forehead and then her swelling belly. "How was your stay here?"

"Ah, it was lovely," she said. "The innkeeper was truly accommodating for me and Kikiriku, and I ended up learning a lot about the way things run here by talking to merchants and local citizens around town."

Thank goodness I did.

"That's great! So—"

"Wait, how is Mystras? Did you find him? Is he alright?"

Hinahoho laughed. "He's better than ever. We were taken in by a family in another village. They've been really kind to us for the past few days."

"And the others?"

"Safe and sound."

She could rest easy, now. "I'm so glad," Rurumu smiled, but Hinahoho must have seen its plaintiveness.

There was no fooling him, after all.

"What is it, honey? Why do you look so—"

She couldn't hide the tears pricking her eyes.

"Hinahoho, we need to leave. Now."


Malik

Lord Malik truly hated being sick.

There was absolutely nothing more mind-numbingly boring and unproductive than being bedridden for days on end. Well, perhaps death would be worse, he mused as he stared idly at the ceiling of his chambers. To be fair, they weren't really his chambers. He assumed that King Rashid was truly a kind man, since he had offered Malik a place to rest in his own palace. Yet, as Malik gazed around the room, lavish with fine, silver inlay furniture crafted in Reim, silk curtains spun in eastern Kou, and furbished with ornate frescos of people dancing amongst tropical birds and palm trees, he once again heard the voice that solemnly whispered: what are you doing here?

Malik was snapped out of his thoughts at a knock on his door. "Yes?" he asked, coughing violently into his arm. "Come in."

The door opened slowly, and the lord's eyes widened when a young girl, no more than ten years old, pushed a cart (that was almost too tall for her arms) into the room.

"Good afternoon, Lord Malik," she said, her voice cracking, almost disappearing into the air like a dead leaf. "I've brought you some medicinal tea as well as some ointments to aid with your illness."

He smiled. "Ah, thank you, dear child. How kind of you," he said, attempting to sit up beneath heavy sheets, but quickly collapsing from a sudden rush of dizziness. "Damn, I've really done it this time," he muttered to himself.

The girl's eyes lit up with surprise, the mop of her choppy brown hair bobbing. "No worries, my lord! I'll bring this right over to you. Please, just lie still!" she squeaked as she put all of her strength into trying to make the cart turn towards his bedside. It creaked and whistled on its wheels, but refused to move. Silently, she began pulling it back and forth, and Malik watched with a pitying smile as she aimed the cart in the proper direction, bit by little bit. But even when she was able to finally push it towards him, she crashed the cart into the bedpost. Teacups flew and smashed to the ground on impact. "Oh no!" she yelped. "I'm so sorry, my lord. I'm a new servant girl, and head servant Jirah always says I'm so clumsy… I… I'll clean this up right away," ending her apology, she knelt to the ground to pick up the sharp bits in her small, worn hands.

Malik couldn't bear it any longer. "You don't need to worry about that," he assured her, leaning to the side of the bed so he could meet her gaze from the glistening marble floor. The girl looked up at him quizzically, shards of imported porcelain in her tiny palms. "Stand up, and leave the pieces on the cart." he ordered, and the servant girl obeyed. A strange look crossed her face.

"M-My lord?"

"Come, sit with me," he said, patting a space on the edge of the bed. "I've been sitting here all day by myself, so would you like to keep me company? I would very much appreciate it."

Despite his best efforts at the kindest smile he could muster, the girl looked even more petrified, her shoulders shuddering with fear. "M-My l-lord… I-I haven't… I was told that I'm not old enough to… I believe that y-you will be punished if… if…" she became fixated on her feet.

And then Malik understood.

Solomon, I really am daft, after all.

He felt nauseous.

"NO!" he exclaimed suddenly, which seemed to scare the child more. "No, no, no, dear," he said, more quietly this time. "I didn't mean anything like that. Not at all." He was practically yanking the sincerity out of his heart. "I promise, I don't want to hurt you. I only wanted to tell you some stories."

The girl's posture relaxed. "My lord, I'm only a servant girl. I really shouldn't—"

"Oh, nonsense. You can spare a few minutes to hear the tales of a place that nobody has ever heard of before, right?"

"Really?" she asked breathlessly, as though she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "There's a place that nobody's ever heard of before?"

Malik grinned triumphantly, forcing himself to sit up as the girl gingerly took a seat. "Yes, my dear. You see, there was once an island in the middle of the ocean that was filled with magic."

"Magic? But there's no such thing as magic," she sounded defeated.

"Oh, but there is," Malik said. Her jaw dipped a little in shock. "Magic is what kept the island alive, you see. The people there depended on it for their wellbeing. The magic made their crops grow lush and bountiful. It made the trees grow strong and sturdy—perfect for building everything from small homes to great palaces. The magic also powered their machines, which helped them in their daily life."

"What's a ma-mach… um…" she bit her lip, confused.

He laughed a little. "Machine, dear child. Machines made the people's lives easier. The people were also incredibly smart. They were gifted with quick minds and nimble fingers, and they were able to grow into a powerful, independent nation with the help of their machines, magic, and the leadership of their great king."

"A king? Like King Rashid?"

"Yes, a king like King Rashid."

Her small mouth made an 'O' shape for understanding. "So what about the magic, my lord? Could the people see magic?"

"No, my dear. They could feel it."

"What?" she was starstruck. "You can feel magic?"

"Of course! Magic is like energy. It can be found in plants and animals, the sky and the sea, in the earth and the wind—it exists everywhere," he grinned. "It even exists in you," he said gently, pressing a finger softly to her nose. She gasped.

"There's magic in me?"

"Yes," Malik said. "There's magic in you. Don't listen to Jirah or anyone who tells you that you're clumsy or that you're useless. You, my dear, are made of magic," the girl was gazing at him intently now. "Don't ever forget that."

Her lips spread from ear to ear, eyes glittering with amazement. "I won't, my lord!"

"Please, just call me Malik," he said. "Let's keep this conversation between us, yeah? Our little secret."

"Okay, mister Malik," she beamed.

"Run along, now, Za—" he stopped himself. The girl gave him a querying look.. He shook his head in response, ruffling her hair fondly. She hopped off the bed to the cart once again. Malik watched as she heaved it with newfound strength, pushing it back towards the door.

She stopped midway.

"Mister Malik?"

"Yes, child?"

"How come nobody's ever heard of this island before?"

Malik's chest strained. "Because nobody has ever truly left it."


Sinbad

Zahra had insisted on a shortcut. Through countless trials and tribulations and adventures and conquests, Sinbad had learned that shortcuts ought to be taken with a grain of salt. He could recall the many, many times that sneaky plans often bite back rather quickly.

She, however, didn't seem above using them.

Gazing down, Sinbad realized that they were at the edge of a steep slope littered with hefty tree roots and giant boulders. He deadpanned. That's such a trek.

"Do we really—woah, w-wait!" Too late. An alarmingly strong grip found his wrist, and before he realized what was happening, Zahra was leading him down the slope a bit too quickly for his liking.

She weaved her way down expertly. With lithe steps, Zahra led him over rocks, around jagged tree stumps, and between all of nature that reached out to trip them like claws plucking at his ankles. She moved as though she had truly followed the exact same path so hundreds of times before. The hood of her cloak slipped away from her head, the black of her hair open to the midnight breeze and bouncing with her every step. Wild laughs echoed into Sinbad's ears as he clumsily chased behind her. "Keep up, foreigner!" she cried.

Unfortunately, he wasn't that fast of a learner.

His foot caught on the end of something hard. "Shit!" he cursed as he tripped, collapsing with little grace onto an unsuspecting Zahra.

"Hey! Watch it—!"

And they tumbled down, down, down. Sinbad's back crashed horrifically against tough roots as the world spun around and around. Dirt and pebbles splattered against his face, scraping and scratching at his back and his calves, then his shoulder, then his chest, until his body finally came to a stop. He groaned, sore all over, but his voice was muffled with leather.

Wait.

Head still whirling, Sinbad looked up dizzily, only to realize that he was, indeed, slumped over a very flustered Zahra.

One hand on her shoulder, the other by her waist, his forehead at the crook of her neck, and his knees tangled between her own.

Shit.

Sinbad had been in the same position many, perhaps even hundreds of times with hundreds of women…

"Get. Off," he felt the rugged grain in her voice.

… But this was the first time that he was both petrified of and inexplicably livid at the woman he was pinning to the ground.

He pressed himself up on his hands to look at her eye to eye, and the purple length of his hair dipped down into hers. Yet as she stared back, he couldn't spot even a hint of embarrassment nor a touch of arousal on her expression. Between her brows and in her sparkling brown irises, he saw only anger.

The rogue strand of hair now hung over the bridge of her nose. Did it ever stay in place?

Then it suddenly reminded Sinbad of his father.

"Sorry," he said, shaking the thought out of his head. He carefully gathered his standing before offering a hand out to the girl.

Not to his surprise, Zahra stood up on her own.

She dusted off the dirt from her cloak. "You really have forgotten a lot, huh?" she said with a snort before continuing on her way.

"Forgotten what?" he asked.

With a flashy grin, she said, "Adventure."


Zahra

About 11 years ago...

The hiss of leaves approached the little girl. It came closer, whilst the promise of Zahra's escape began slipping from her fingers in vain. Her breaths were heavy and labored, and her loose hair was a mess. She had lost her father's satchel along the way. It didn't really matter, but she was disappointed that she wouldn't have the chance to die with it.

Happy. Thoughts.

She ground her toes into the dirt, fruitlessly trying to still her quaking knees. Her small, bloody hands curled into fists, and her big brown eyes locked on their target.

I'm not afraid.

I'm not afraid

I'm not afraid.

"If you want to go, go!"

"I'M NOT AFRAID!" Zahra screamed at the top of her lungs.

A greeting soon came. Glowing pink eyes and a painful growl approached her from the darkness.

Breath coming fast against the hot mist of the jungle, Zahra watched, stunned, as the beast slowly stepped out before her.

Her eyes immediately fell upon its paws. Giant, as big as a table, covered in black scales and deathly with long, glistening, ivory claws. Then, the rest of the beast gradually emerged from the depths of the jungle, melting away into open air. To Zahra, it almost seemed like it just kept growing until it was as big as a mountain. It was perhaps five, no, six times as tall as she was. It was splattered in scales that shined and shifted against the moonlight like obsidium would. Great, dagger-like horns sprouted from its jaws, framing its face and protruding through its long and unruly fuchsia mane. Dense black fur coated the rest of the monster, and veins pulsed with power along its legs, shoulders, and cheeks through its thickness.

But what made Zahra stagger was the beast's teeth. They didn't drip with blood like the people of Etor had said. They were white and pearly, but enormous and as sharp as blades.

It was horrible.

Yet, it made no move to attack her. In fact, it made no movement at all. It stood there, pink eyes cast downward on the girl's form. It didn't growl. It didn't even flinch. It just watched.

Zahra gazed back, her neck craning painfully to keep her eyes on the beast. She didn't even pay attention to the fact that she wasn't dead yet. All that she seemed to think about was that it almost seemed...

And then, after what seemed to be hours, the beast turned away silently. It crept back into the depths of the jungle from which it came, tail swishing amongst the brush as it disappeared once again.

It left a terribly confused Zahra behind, who stood absolutely wonderstruck.


My loves, my loves, I'm back! AND I kind of updated on time? A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!

Anyways, this was a bit of a long chapter. The writing isn't as beautiful in this because I literally just grinded it out to upload it for y'all AHAHa, hope it's not too disappointing :')) (pls be gentle w me)

YOU GUYS. You wonderful amazing people. Thank you so so much for the reviews and favs and follows - I'm so glad that my story is actually reaching you guys somehow and it makes me absolutely thrilled :)) ilyy

Also, I realized that I called King Rashid by HAROUN for an entire chapter. That's quite embarrassing. It's being fixed now *is very ashamed* I'm a disgrace to the magi fandom.

REVIEW RESPONSES:

justme: Hey again! You were absolutely right, and I actually changed it almost the moment you posted your review! I now made the first chapter a prologue and put that part in there, and so what used to be the first chapter is now a part of the previous second chapter/current first chapter. Sorry, a bit confusing to explain, much easier to just see and be like 'ah okay'. Yes, the purpose was to entice readers since I realized 'wow the opening scene is rather boring', so you really helped me out here! THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Anna: WELCOME BACK LOVE! Thank you so much! I do believe that Zahra is having a bit too much one on one time with Sinbad as of late (ahem this entire chapter dammit), but at the same time, I just can't resist. AND YES we're finally getting somewhere! It was a lot of buildup, I know, but I'm so happy that you stuck through it all up until now! I hope to see you in future chapters as well :)) AND YES I changed the cover, I just keep changing it because I'm just never satisfied, and I'm glad you liked the prologue now! And you are definitely assuming things along the right lines ;))

Hey: HOLA! You don't come off rude at all - in fact, you come off really polite and kind and I'm glad that you took the time to write this review! AND YOU CAUGHT ME REDHANDED! I definitely am a sucker for imagery and fancy words and sometimes its good but sometimes I let it run my life, which is never the best thing, so you're absolutely right. In fact, with this update, I went back and edited some other chapters because they were unnecessarily prosy (especially the earlier ones). At the same time, I do hope readers take time to read longer paragraphs. At least in a lot of books, prose can be tedious at times but it's also a vital part of the English language. STILL though, I'm a prose maniac, so I should still take a chill pill ahaha.

I do understand that maybe the characters reactions are exaggerated, but I also feel like they're somewhat realistic? I will go back and look over them, but I'd like to ask that you keep in mind that some stuff has deeper meanings (e.g. the weird feeling they get? That's important, it's not just a weird feeling). It would actually be really awesome if you could point out some of the parts where the characters' reactions are exaggerated/when my writing gets prosy, so I can edit them better! But its okay I can figure it out :))

Anyways, I hope that this story doesn't come off Enigma-y, because it's not an Enigma-y story at all. I haven't even gotten past chapter 10 in Enigma (i'm really slow), sooo... yeah.

Lastly, I'm glad that you find Zahra interesting, because she definitely is an unusual one. I hope that this chapter shed a bit more light on her character, but as you said, she does need to interact with more of the crew. More on that in the next chapter. Much more. hehehee.

Guys, I love you. I'm so glad that people are enjoying this story that I am bumbling along with, and I so so appreciate your support through this journey :) Hope it's just as much of an adventure for you as it is for me!

Also - don't be afraid to rip my writing to shreds! I really appreciate critical feedback (just, you know, don't be rude about it please and thank you!), because honestly that's the kind of feedback that drastically changes the way I approach my writing. So please HIT ME AS HARD AS YOU CAN! *flails arms emphatically*

Thanks again, guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. SEE YOU SOON!

~ AVA