20.05.2024 – 19.45 UTC +04.00

  “That is not possible,” I said, although I had to admit all I was taught was from Starling’s coven. A Half-Shadow? What did this even mean?

  Ramin was sitting across the table. He chuckled.

  “Of course it is. Probably more common than pure shadows nowadays,” he said as he grabbed the drinks from the waitress’ disk. The waitress left some appetizers and burgers on the table.

  Ramin did not even hesitate as he devoured his burger.

  “Unbelievable. Really. So. Amazing”

  “How long were you in there?” I asked him. I felt that his intense hunger could not be explained by his character.

  “Depends on what year it is. You told me it is May already.” He said digging through the final piece of burger,

  “Eh, 2024.”

  “Ah, shit. That must be… eight years then.”

  I almost choked on the water.

  “What did you do? Starling must have had a reason. Not every shadow is kept prisoner for so long, not that I have ever heard of.”

  “Ehm, honestly? I do not remember. But it cannot be worse than what you did,” he clapped back. “Think about it. The last thing I remember was the year 2016, when I was in Baku. Whatever the reason, the one you call Starling took me away and put me in that Cursed house. That said, they kept me alive for so long…” He paused going through another burger “The moment they think you escaped, they glass bomb the house. So, I really need to know, what it is that you have done.”

  He was right. That reaction must have been proportional to something that I had done. Or something I had learned.

  Or both. I recalled the vision about the Sahara and a message I had sent that night.

  What could I have possibly done?

  “I have only fragments of memories,” I admitted to Ramin. It felt like my brain was bleached clean, and I could only remember random whispers I received that night and only limited visual details. “I was warding a house south of here, hoping to protect south of Oghuz from…”I vaguely gestured in his direction.

  “Shadows?” Ramin asked. Sitting under the light of the candle in that diner made the question sound literal, but we both knew we were not referring to the absence of light.

  “Yes. Something happened that night. I think… I met an other Cursed.” I dug through my mind. It was difficult even away from the mind fog that the house had created over the last few days. The memories were locked behind a semi-transparent wall. “He forced me to whisper, or caused a vision? I am not sure exactly. But it somehow has to do with a place in the Sahara. I really can’t make sense of my memories.”

  We looked at each other. The awkwardness was palpable.

  “By the way you are looking at me,” he repeated my vague gesture “things must have gone more awry than I thought. I remember the radio talking about domain wars. Is it because of us?” he said troubled.

  These were hard waters to navigate. Shadows were a very particular breed of Cursed people that always existed in the region. Turkey, Armenia, Georgia, Azerbaijan, and even south Russia and north Iran, all hosted sporadic minorities among the Cursed covens of people called Shadows. They tended to have obvious Curses, always associated with darkness, decay, or like in Ramin’s case it seemed like ashes. They were shunned by the Cursed who tried to hide among the normal mortal world, exactly because of their particular curses. Where I was from, associating yourself with shadows was considered taboo.

  They also had a dramatically shortened lifespan, most of them not living past forty, succumbing to their own curses. Or at least they used to. A couple of years back some innovative mortal medication was uncovered. It boosted the shadows’ health and allowed them to push the boundaries of their powers without consuming their lifespan.

  I did not share most of my background’s prejudices against shadows. If anything, I felt a combination of pity and curiosity for their Cursed fates.

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  “Your kind,” I paused choosing my words carefully “revolted a couple of years ago. They have found a way to establish a domain in Baku, forbidding other Cursed to enter.”

  I waited a bit to gauge his reaction. He seemed perplexed, confused even, but not sad about it. I continued explaining.

  “Well, Baku was the center of activities for most covens, which created a lot of hostility between the covens. They are now vying for control of the areas around the Caspian Sea, which in turn has created more and more alliances and betrayals across covens in the area… My coven is in active domain war with Adil’s Coven, from Shaki through Q?b?l?.”

  I omitted the history of some covens persecuting and executing Shadows as punishment for their perceived insolence. I was never directly involved in these attacks against Shadows, but I am not sure how that information would help me build rapport with the only ally at hand.

  He kept frowning as I spoke, shifting his left hand on his days-old beard and scratching his cheek. I was not sure if he completely followed. As a Shadow he might have never heard of coven wars, definitely not even of Starling and Adil.

  “I see,” he answered, “not much I can do about all that. What’s the plan for us?”

  The question caught me off guard.

  “Nowhere is safe in this region if you are Cursed. The war has only just begun, and the covens will only get bolder. Maybe not even hesitate to fight out in the open,” I said, my voice lowering thinking of the consequences of my hypothesis, “the state authorities will hunt each and every Cursed to quell these fights and protect the non-Cursed.”

  “Not much we can do about that either,” he said. His grey eyes were still frowning.

  I had started to realize his personality was more direct than what that cursed house had tranquilized him into before. He tapped his hand on the table. “It sure sounds like there is a domain war raging out there,” he added.

  “Well, our case is more complex than those domain wars. My farsight showed me the West Sahara. There is no possibility this domain war extends that far, so I believe this is about something else.”

  Ramin scoffed.

  “Are you expecting us to travel to a far-off corner of the world, on a hunch?”

  “Look, I have no other lead, family or friends. My only close friend was the very masked man you saw, hunting for us. I have nowhere to go but far from here, so I may as well get a plane to Morocco and find out what is hiding there. You can go back to whatever weird family you are from.”

  He must have felt some of the pain and desperation in my voice.

  “Did you miss the part where I was locked in there for almost a decade?”

  After a moment of awkward silence, I second-guessed my words.

  “I apologize. My head is all fuzzy. I can’t imagine how your head feels. And I am sure you do have a family somewhere looking for you.”

  He did not say anything, and we were both left lost in our thoughts and my candle’s warding light.

  I was without a coven or allies, and I knew I must have uncovered something big for my coven to hunt me like this. If there was any way to fix how my life was unexpectedly shattered, that was to find out what I had learned that night.

  Ramin was a shadow prisoner of my coven, held against his will for years. There was no reason for our common trip to continue. We might have been enemies in proper circumstances.

  “That’s very far,” he sighed ignoring my innuendo to separate, “how are we going to find a flight to Morocco?”

  I scanned him with my eyes. Was he planning to tag along in my crazy plan – and was I really okay with it? I weighed my options. His help could prove very advantageous, a half-shadow that can switch his powers on and off.

  “If only I knew a shadow,” I said in the end “so that we could go through Shadow territories together.”

  He popped a cute smirk. I had to admit, there was something I really liked about him.

  “Let’s find a bus then,” he said.

  I waved to the waitress. As she came near my candle’s ward, I whispered.

  “We were never here.” We waved at her and left, as she blankly returned to her post. I felt shame for using my Cursed ward to not pay in a diner, but given we had nothing but our somehow torn clothes and a box of matches, I decided we were owed a break.

  I followed a similar strategy when we visited a nearby clothing store and when we bought tickets for the bus ride to Q?b?l? Airport. Ramin did not seem to protest but did look at me suspiciously every time I whispered a ward and lit a match.

  “So can you simply do whatever you want?” He asked when we had finally settled in our seats on the bus to Q?b?l? Airport.

  “Hm, I wish,” I said and lowered my voice “I can make a cashier ignore me and gift me things. I can protect myself, and perhaps you, if someone with bad intentions is nearby. That’s about it.”

  “It is quite handy.”

  “Well, the more people I must trick the more impossible it is. I can make a bus driver ignore us. I can’t make a whole airport work in our favor and let us on an international flight,” I explained.

  “I see. So, we do need money,” he quickly deduced.

  “And more matches,” I sighed “I am almost out.”

  The drive was uneventful. A part of me wished Zephyr would whisper back at me again, with an explanation, but I knew that wish was futile. Even if he did reach out, responding to him would pose a major risk. Some people could trace whispers, and with Q?b?l? Airport being right out of Starling’s Domain, I would not bet they would not dare follow us out there. I decided to not use my energy thinking about my old coven. I had to figure out a way to get enough money to buy two tickets out of Azerbaijan and anywhere to the south.

  Perhaps I could use my ward enough times begging for money around the airport. It could work, but we would need to make sure people would not get to us. The more people I tried to affect with the same ward, the more we would risk garnering attention. But yet, it was the best idea I could think of.

  Once we reached our destination and we exited the bus, I realized how futile my thought process was. The entire parking lot, airport market, and overall vicinity were heavily patrolled by government police carrying automatic guns.

  Government ads were playing in every corner, with a very clear motto: SEE A CURSE, REPORT A CURSE.

  “That was a major detail you left out, Nis?.”

  “I did not. Things must have happened during the past couple of days. The government is cracking down on the covens,” I said worried but started walking as the rest of the people towards the airport entrance, trying not to seem suspicious.

  “And that includes…”

  “Oh, I am sure it includes you too. Just. Just stay normal.”

  November 1st 2024

  Note to readers of the adventures of Nis?: Chapter sizes and titles have been adjusted as some chapters have proven too sizable for the online format. Thank you for following this character, and I hope this will improve the experience!