The Second Archon War: Sapientia Oromasdis 22

Sapientia Oromasdis 22: The Fruit of Reason's Culmination

On the evening of January 21st, 2005 by the Gregorian Calendar, or the 8th day of Dhul Hijjah 1425 in the Islamic calendar, the Saeed Family arrived in Saudi Arabia. This was an event of no small significance, with widespread news coverage. For, upon this year, the Hopebringer was to take the Hajj. 

“She cannot come here!” an elder Imam declared, pointing at Farasha, who was dressed in a very conservative black robe, though it did look like she was smuggling a football under it thanks to the lateness of her pregnancy. “And especially not her!” he pointed his finger at Tessa, who stiffened. 

“They are both good muslims! I vouch for them!” Imam Tahir said, putting himself between the angry Imam’s and Nahida’s family. 

“They are abominations! Demons!” the Imam shouted, spittle flying from his lips, his face red with anger. 

“She is my wife,” Bashir said from his wheelchair, taking Farasha’s hand. “You make no argument that I may not come, I note.”

“I protest!” another Imam shouted, pointing at Bashir. “That man has a serpent! He is unclean!” 

“I told you, it is required for his health! There is provision for those who require medicine!” Tahir argued. “You cannot tell me that Bashir Saeed is not a good Muslim! He is a man of God!” 

“Pah! He is married to a monster, and his supposed daughters are-” an Imam began, but the others hushed him. 

“Abdul, we have spoken of this. Nahida Saeed is a Righteous Djinn. We permitted her to take the Hajj,” one of the others said firmly. 

“Thank you,” Nahida said, stepping forward. She was dressed conservatively herself, though as usual, her feet were bare. “But it is vital that all of my family accompany me on the Hajj. Including Tessa.”

“And why is that?” one of the scowling Imam’s demanded. 

“Because. The Simurgh comes,” Nahida said simply. 

The Imams sucked in a breath, their eyes going wide. One, Abdul, the Imam who had protested Nahida’s presence, scowled and stepped forward. “You threaten us? Threaten the Holy City itself?”

“No,” Nahida shook her head. “The Simurgh will arrive here with or without my presence. But you know what has happened to cities I did not defend from her. I would not have that happen here.”

There was more arguing and muttering. One Imam pointed out, “It has been three months since the last attack. And we have long known that Mecca is a likely target for the Endbringers. To strike during the Hajj…it is sacrilege.”

“Allah would not allow it!” Abdul protested. 

“No,” Nahida agreed, causing the Imam’s to look at her again. “That is why He sent me.”

“You blaspheme!” Abdul snarled, but the others pushed him away, clamping arms down on his shoulders to prevent him from surging forward to attack the Dendro Archon. 

“You claim to be sent by Allah?” one of the elderly Imam’s asked Nahida. “You claim equal status with the Prophet Muhammad himself?”

“No. I make no claims as a prophet,” Nahida said with a shake of her head. “Only as a defender of the righteous.” 

That got plenty of angry mutters, but Nahida knew it wouldn’t amount to much in the end. Much as she was loathe to do it, this was too important to leave to chance. She was mildly networking the Imams, and promoting feelings of understanding, empathy, and openness. As Imam Abdul was showing, that didn’t mean that the Imam’s were forced to look at things her way, but they were much more open to the suggestions than they normally would be. 

“If the Simurgh does come, we will need her,” Tahir said. “Even if she did not, Nahida is a good Muslim. She gives testimony of Shahadah! She prays five times daily, and comes to mosque regularly. None can contest her charity, for she has given the people of the world more in her time here than any other. She fasts during Ramadan, and now she comes to complete the Hajj.”

“She is a child,” one of the Imam’s pointed out. 

“Physically, I do appear child-like. However, in truth, I am over 506 years old now,” Nahida explained. “Most of that time was spent imprisoned in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, but I have still lived many mortal lives. Djinn is one name for what I am, but in truth, I am closest biologically to a tree. More specifically, the Tree of Life.”

“You claim to be the Tree of Immortality?” an Imam asked,  his brow furrowing. 

“I am. If one were to eat of the fruit of my branches, one would gain Forbidden Knowledge, and be cursed. This is why I choose to walk amongst men in this form. I am not the original tree of life, that tree was cut down. I am merely a branch that is yet growing,” Nahida stated. 

“This is all immaterial. If the Simurgh is coming, she must be allowed into the city. There are millions here, and if the Holy City of Mecca itself is destroyed by the Endbringers, then we are truly doomed. If Allah has sent her, then so be it. Let her complete it as a child. Her father is here, and Doctor Bashir is known to be a man of faith,” one of the Imam’s declared. He bowed to Nahida. “May Allah accept your Hajj, Nahida Saeed.”

“Labbayka Allahumma Labbayk,” Nahida replied, bowing her head. I submit, and submit again. The traditional response of a pilgrim on their Hajj. 

After that, there was no fuss over either Tessa or Farasha, which was well in Nahida’s opinion. Tessa was of the opinion that if Nahida believed Allah was real and Muhhamad was his Prophet, then Nahida was absolutely right. On the other hand, Farasha seemed to believe the entire thing silly, but she was willing to humor her husband and daughter. 

As for Qiqi, she was a child, and always would be. As such, her father’s profession of faith was enough, though Qiqi did her best to say her prayers and be faithful, and Nahida thought that was what truly mattered. 

The next step was the donning of the Ihram garments, along with ritual purification and more prayers and charges. Nahida completed them all with faith and steadfastness, listening for the voice of Allah. She felt…something. Sensed a power, a presence, just out of reach. Was it the gaze of Allah? The faith and will of the collected millions of pilgrims? The gathering of elemental energy in this holy place? Nahida wasn’t certain. Perhaps this was what it meant to truly have faith. 

“My feet are killing me,” Farasha complained that night, while Tessa helped her get her shoes off her swollen feet, then healed them with Dendro. 

“You could have stayed home. Pregnant women are generally expected to stay home during the Hajj, especially those as far along as you,” Tessa pointed out.

Farasha’s nostrils flared. “And let my baby girl fight the Simurgh all on her own? Fat chance of that.”

“I told you, this won’t be much of a fight,” Nahida said quietly. “She’s already defeated. She just doesn’t know it yet. Ziz isn’t the Simurgh anymore.”

“She’s still a fu-freaking Endbringer, Nahida,” Farasha pointed out. 

“Yes, but you promised not to transform while pregnant,” Nahida chided.

“Papillio and I have been talking about that. There’s a way for me to do so and keep Saleem safe,” Farasha said, putting a hand to her abdomen. “Oof. Little guy must be excited. He keeps kicking.”

“Do not risk it. Only if I actually enter battle should you attempt any intervention. But that will not happen,” Nahida promised. 

“What are the over-under odds?” Farasha demanded, pulling Qiqi close so she could feel the baby move. 

“The odds that Ziz actually engages in anything besides perfunctory demonstrations are less than 1.78%,” Nahida said. “Meaning there is a 97.22% chance that the same thing happens here that did in Baghdad and New Delhi, at least from all outward appearances. Plus, Tessa will be with me.”

“And I swear I won’t let a single thing happen to Nahida. I won’t fail again,” Tessa vowed. 

“Hey, you didn’t fail. Nobody died at that conference, and the Tsaritsa retreated,” Farasha pointed out. “Win in my book.”

“It was a victory only for the King of Demons,” Nahida said with a shake of her head. “Now, get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow.”

Nahida herself didn’t sleep, instead gazing up at the fabric of their tent roof. Her eyes tracked where the Simurgh was orbiting, directly over Mecca. The word had already spread that the Simurgh was planning to attack during the Hajj. Several international cape teams with Muslim members had already arrived, though Nahida had also spread the word that she herself was to deal with the Simurgh alone, and others should attack only if she failed. So far, no one had protested that plan, largely because of her twice success, and the fact that in her three other attacks, the Simurgh had slaughtered capes by the score. 

You have a long road ahead of you, Ziz. But the third time shall pay for all, Nahida thought, smiling faintly. 

Early the next morning, Nahida and millions of other pilgrims journeyed to Arafat, where various Imans and scholars would give a sermon from noon until sunset. Usually, pilgrims were required to stand the entire time, but her father and mother were exempted. Bashir for his status as an invalid, Farasha due to her late term pregnancy. Qiqi ended up falling asleep in Bashir’s lap, her ice keeping the air around them cool and pleasant. Tessa and Nahida both stood for the entire six hours. Many noticed and remarked on it, though both of them were dressed in plain white dresses with veils and shawls. 

There she is, the Hopebringer and her Dragon!

Allah has sent them to protect us in this hour. 

She is the Righteous Djinn, she even observes the Hajj, though she is but a child. 

There were a few less complimentary mutters that Nahida cataloged as well, but it was gratifying to hear how few in number they were. However, there was one voice of complaint that made her smile.

“Aranarakin does not like sand,” the little forest spirit complained from atop Nahida’s head. “It is rough, and it is coarse, and it gets everywhere.”

“We’ll make this desert bloom one day soon, my friend,” Nahida whispered. “For now, this is how things must be. Endure it but a little longer, and Arafat will be rich with vineyards and groves, while pilgrims feast upon their bounty.”

“Aranarakin wishes that were today, but Aranarakin trusts Sarva-Nara,” the forest fairy sighed. 

That night they slept upon the open stony ground, though many people did not. The Simurgh had descended lower, and she was glowing a bright aquamarine. It was an ominous portent, and Nahida had to hide a smile. 

You will be quite the dramatic one, won’t you, Ziz? 

The next day, Nahida arose and gathered seven pebbles with the rest of her family. They would use them in the ritual of the Stoning of the Devil, but not in the traditional way. 

“Nahida, why do you not throw your stones at the pillar?” her father asked when they reached the Jamrat al-Aqabah.

“The devil will come to me herself this day,” Nahida said, holding out her stones. “I must save them to stone her, so that she might be cast down.”

Those that overheard Nahida’s words cried out, and rumors quickly spread. Everyone was on high alert, casting nervous glances at the ominous green star that was descending ever lower. 

Finally, precisely at Noon when it was time for Zuhr prayer and the Adahn was called from the minarets, the Endbringer Alarms began to sound. The Simurgh had begun her attack run. 

There were gasps, and all turned to look at Nahida. She calmly laid out her mat, and bowed her head, reciting the five rak’a and bowing faithfully. When she finished, she closed her eyes, and said a special prayer, just for her. 

Allah…please. I don’t know why you sent me here. But I know what I must do now. Please, let me save these people. But especially, let me save Ziz. I have Wisdom, but give me courage as well. For I fear what will happen should I fail. For once…let me be a good Archon. 

Then she stood, and lifted off into the air, zipping away towards the Kabaa. 

Floating up in the stillness of space, Ziz realized something. 

She missed the wind. She missed feeling it blow through her feathers and hair, she missed the caress of it on her cheeks, and she missed the scent of it. 

One more battle. One more battle, and I’ll put to rest to that pest Buer permanently. I’ll be truly free. 

Ziz tried to grin predatorily, but it felt forced. For one thing, this body hadn’t really been designed with a good wicked smile in mind. For another…Ziz wasn’t so sure she could beat Nahida. Sure, she had learned a great deal about how to wield Anemo, and she had some tricks that should break her out of that stupid dream loop. 

But most of all, Ziz wasn’t sure she wanted to beat Nahida. Despite everything, especially how weak, pathetic, and stupid the humans were…they were interesting. Fun. Especially when Ziz messed with them. And the gratitude they showed her when she freed them from the parasite she herself had implanted…it felt…good. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work. 

Carefully, slowly, Ziz began her descent. There would be no attempts at deception or ambush this time. She knew full well what she was walking into. She’d been carefully tracking Nahida’s position for weeks, and the Dendro Archon was definitely close to Mecca. She’d very publicly announced she’d be performing the Hajj weeks ago. 

Guess in a way, I’m performing a pilgrimage too. That was stupid. Moronic, even. Religion was a hoax, a farce. A lie that humans had made up to justify atrocities. 

Is it? You know full well you’ve seen the power of a god. Power not even the Shard Network can match. What is that but a god? 

“Shut up,” Ziz growled to herself now that she was low enough for there to be a bit of air around. “You’re the mother fucking Simurgh. You’re the Hopekiller. You’re THE Endbringer, no matter what Behemoth or the Twins might think. You will burn this fucking city to the ground and leave Nahida’s corpse for the crows.”

Right. Of course. She definitely would this time. 

At exactly the agreed-upon time, Ziz swooped down on the very heart of Mecca. The Kabaa, the holiest place in Islam. She hovered above it, looking around impatiently. If Nahida didn’t hurry up and show, she’d start her song and send these panicked and cowering humans into a murderous-

Ziz paused. The humans were not panicking. Nor were they cowering. They were praying. Mostly to Allah, but also to…no. It couldn’t be. 

This is a trap. They’re praying to Nahida! I can feel the faith, feel the power they’re funneling to her! This is doomed! 

Panic filled Ziz’s heart, and she very nearly fled right then and there. But no. No more fleeing. She would face this battle. There was no backing out of this one. Not this time. One of them wasn’t leaving this place whole. 

A few minutes later, a green spark arose, then zipped towards the Simurgh, who turned towards it, desperately trying to calm herself. 

BUER, she shrieked when Nahida arrived. LOOK UPON THIS PLACE WELL. HERE YOU SHALL FALL, IN FRONT OF YOUR SUPPOSED HOLY RELICS. HERE, HOPE SHALL DIE.

That is not the fate that Allah the Merciful and Benevolent has decreed for his children, Nahida declared, glowing green script wrapping about her like a great halo. Hello, Caelestis Cantor. We meet again. But this time, you are no Outlander. Have you not seen? Today’s fate was written in the stars long ago. Now. Let us Dance the Dance of Samsara for a Third Time. 

Caelestis Cantor? The Celestial Singer? That name…that name felt…right. It was who she was. What her Vision demanded she be. 

YES. I WILL SING YOU A SONG, BUER. A SONG THAT WILL MAKE THE WORLD WEEP. 

The green script wrapped about Ziz, and she closed her eyes. Yes. One final dance. One last song. Then, she would be truly free. 

Sleep. Dream. 

Ziz stared out the bus window as her stomach rumbled, hugging her backpack and empty lunchbox to her chest. Her dad was gone again, but the refrigerator was empty. Her brothers had taken all the food. She just hoped he would be back soon. She really missed him. 

She winced. Brother. Levi was dead, but Titan had come home just to clean out the fridge. 

She sniffled, curling her legs up below her and longing desperately for food. 

“Hello. My name is Tessa. Are you in First Grade too?” 

Ziz looked up to see a young girl with brown hair and her hair in pigtails standing by her seat, carrying a Kim Possible backpack. She had a funny accent, but she looked nice. 

“Um, yes,” Ziz said, nodding her head. “Are you a new student?”

“Yeah,” Tessa said. “Can I sit with you? The other seats all have big kids.”

“Sure,” Ziz agreed, moving her legs so that Tessa could hop up on the seat next to her. “I like your backpack.” Ziz lifted up her own backpack, which had Shego on it. 

“You like Kim Possible too?!” Tessa gasped in excitement, and the two of them spent the rest of the bus ride chattering about their favorite episodes and how mean and dumb Bonnie was. 

When they got to school, Ziz and Tessa were some of the first off the bus, and they even held hands as Tessa was nervous and didn’t know where to go. Ziz didn’t know where to go either since she was new too, but she wasn’t telling Tessa that. 

“Ah good morning, students. You seem to be new here at our school. Do you know where to go?”

Ziz and Tessa looked up, and up, and up, to the scary face of a tall man with amber eyes, and cup of something hot in his hands. They both silently shook their heads. 

“I see.” The man knelt on one leg and smiled at them. He still looked very scary, but he seemed nice. “I am Mr. Morax, the Principal here at Teyvan Elementary. What are your names?”

“Um, I’m Elizabeth Ward, but everyone calls me Ziz,” Ziz explained. 

“I’m Theresa Richter. I’m six. She is too,” Tessa said.

“Well, you must be in Mrs. Rukkhadevata’s class then. However, I think I’ve seen your names cross my desk. Are you both hungry?” Morax asked. 

Both girls nodded, blushing slightly. Ziz knew she hadn’t had breakfast, but she’d sort of forgotten about that since she had a friend now. 

“Well, no student is allowed to attend Teyvan Elementary while they are hungry. Young Miss Buer, will you please show our new students where the cafeteria is?” Mr. Morax asked. 

“Yes, Mr. Morax.” 

Ziz turned to see a big kid. She was probably in the 3rd or 4th grade, so she was quite a bit taller than Ziz, with green eyes and platinum blonde hair. She smiled at Ziz and Tessa. “Hello, I’m Nahida. Come on, I was just going to get breakfast myself.”

The cafeteria wasn’t very far, and Nahida showed Ziz and Tessa how to go through the lunch line. “Usually, you’ll need your student ID, it's’ a little card on a lanyard. But we haven’t gotten them yet because it’s the first day of school still. So for today, you just tell Mr. Gouba your names and he puts them in the computer.”

Mr. Gouba was a big, fat man with a fuzzy orange beard and a bigger smile, who wore an apron and one of those funny chef’s hats. He gave the girls trays with milk, fruit, scrambled eggs, and hashbrowns for breakfast. “Welcome to our school! Anytime you’re hungry, you just come down here! Students eat for free at Teyvan Elementary, breakfast and lunch!” 

“Thank you,” Ziz said quietly, sniffling slightly and trying to hide her tears. Now, she wouldn’t be hungry, even if Titan took all the food and her dad forgot to buy more or was gone.

Nahida chatted with Ziz and Tessa, as it turned out she was a big fan of Kim Possible too. She even had a book about Kim Possible she’d checked out from the school library!

“If you work hard, you can learn to read the words in it too, and you can borrow it. It’s a chapter book, so you have to know a lot of words,” Nahida explained. There were some pictures in it, but Ziz could read most of the words. She loved reading, and she’d always been at the top of her class in Kindergarten. She’d be able to get the Kim Possible book soon.

When they were done eating, Nahida offered to take Ziz and Tessa to class. “I was in Mrs. Rukkhadevata’s class when I was in First Grade too. She’s my aunt,” Nahida explained. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Nahida showed the way, and Ziz and Tessa soon found themselves in the classroom. It was a big room, with lots of small tables that were just the right height for a first-grader. The room was themed like a garden, with the walls painted green and grown, and there were paper flowers growing on the walls with places for the student’s names. There was a carpet for circle time, and a place for Ziz to put her backpack and empty lunch box with her name on it. 

“Good morning, Nahida! Thank you so much for bringing my two new friends today!” a grown up who had hair and eyes like Nahida’s said. She knelt down and smiled at Ziz and Tessa. “Do you want a hug, high five, or fist bump today?”

“Hug,” Ziz said instantly. Her dad didn’t like to give hugs, and she’d never known her mom. A hug sounded really nice. 

Mrs. Rukkhadevata gave very nice hugs, then took Nahida over to a table where several other children were working and had her make a name tag. “Do you know how to write your name, or do you want me to put it on this whiteboard for you?”

“I can write my own name,” Ziz said proudly, and wrote “Elizabeth Ward” on the name tag, then added, “Ziz,” since that was what she wanted people to call her. 

“Ziz? That’s a dumb name,” a girl with long dark hair said, and laughed at Ziz. 

“Farasha, that’s not how we speak to our friends at school,” Mrs. Rukkhadevata said in a lecturing tone. 

“Yeah, Farasha, stop being so mean!” a girl with light red hair said. Her name tag said “Yae Miko.” 

There were other students in the class: Kenta was big for his age, but he seemed nice, if very loud. There was also Chiyo, who said she loved to go swimming, and a quiet boy named Dvalin who liked to fly kites. 

Lunch was spaghetti with meatballs, and Ziz got a chocolate milk to go with it. She was very worried she had no money, at her old school you had to have money to get lunch, but Mr. Gouba reassured her that lunch was free, so she felt much better. 

After lunch, they had Music class with Mr. Barbatos, who was very funny and made Ziz laugh with his jokes and silly songs. When school was over, Ziz and Tessa walked back to the bus with their class, and Mrs. Rukkhadevata gave them their bus cards so the bus driver would know where they lived. 

“Bye, Ziz!” Tessa called when she got off the bus. “See you tomorrow!” 

“Bye!” Ziz said, waving and feeling sad. She had a friend now, but she knew what was waiting for her at home. 

Like most days, Ziz’s house was empty when she got there. The last note she’d gotten from her dad said he was at work and would be back soon. He had a Very Important Job, as a policeman, but that meant he wasn’t home a lot. So, Ziz took out the apple she’d gotten for lunch and saved and ate it for dinner. She did her homework by herself at the kitchen table, then went and watched TV until it was time for bed.

In the morning, she woke up extra early to make sure she wouldn’t miss the bus. She didn’t, and she got to sit next to Tessa again, who was very certainly her new best friend. 

And that’s how Ziz’s days went. She met the Drama Teacher, Miss Focalors, who was a lot of fun, and told Ziz she would be a wonderful actor. Ziz even got a role in the class play! She was going to be the lead actress! Then there was Ms. Haborym PE teacher, and Ms. Beezelbul the shop teacher. They were both very strict, but their classes were still fun. Whenever she had a problem, Ziz could go to a teacher or the Principal Mr. Morax, and they would help her. 

That wasn’t what it was like at home. When her dad was home, it was good, but scary. If he was mad, he would hit Tessa and send her to her room, telling her she wasn’t worthy. He would fight with Titan when Titan was around, even though he was a grownup now. Titan scared Ziz, especially with the people he hung out with. They were loud and had guns. Her dad said they were in a gang, and should be put in jail. 

One night was especially bad. Her dad had come home before Ziz this time, and had been sleeping, so she’d tried to be very quiet. However, there was food in the fridge, some leftover pizza. So Ziz had taken it out to eat for her dinner without using the microwave, because that might make noise. Ziz had thought about hiding, but that never worked, so instead, she hurried up and tried to finish the pizza. 

Then she had heard loud music and the squeal of tires.

“Hey, bitch, where’s the old man?” Titan had demanded as soon as he slammed open the door.

“H-he’s sleeping,” Ziz stammered as Titan came over and grabbed her food. He was big, with tattoos now, and he wore his pants all saggy so you could see his underwear. She could also see a gun. That would make dad mad. 

Titan shoved Ziz away, stuffing the pizza in his mouth, but she didn’t make noise, because if you made noise, daddy would be mad. But it was too late. 

Another door crashed open. “Is it too much to ask for some goddamn peace and quiet around here!?” 

Daddy stalked in. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he was wearing only his shirt and his underwear. He glared at Titan, who glared right back at him. “You young punk, why are you back here!?”

“Fuck you old man. You’d better pay up, I’m late on the rent again!” 

“You’re not my fucking problem anymore!” 

“Fuck off, I know my mother left me something and you fucking stole it!” 

They started yelling and screaming, so Ziz tried to sneak past. She tripped, accidentally dropping her plate on the floor, and it shattered. 

“You worthless kid! I don’t know why I keep you around!” her dad shouted. Ziz got up and tried to pick up the pieces, but he hit her and she fell back down, her face burning with pain.

“Go to your fucking room!”

“Hey, don’t you fucking touch my sister!” Titan screamed, and hit her dad. 

Terrified, Ziz ran away as her dad and brother started fighting with their fists and not just their words. What should she do? She couldn’t call the police. Her dad was a police. They wouldn’t arrest him. 

So, she called the person who she knew could keep her safe, taking the phone from its receiver and hiding in her closet. 

“Teyvan Elementary, Principal Morax speaking.”

“Mr. Morax, I’m scared. Can I come back to school?” Ziz whispered. 

There was a pause, then a click, and then Mr. Morax asked, “Ziz? Where are you?”

“I’m at home,” she whispered, wincing as an especially loud thud and stream of swear words sounded. “They’re fighting and they have guns.”

“Ziz. I need you to call the police right away,” Mr. Morax said firmly. 

“I can’t. Daddy’s a police, but he hit me and now he’s hitting my brother,” Ziz said, tears in her eyes. 

“I see. Ziz, I want you to stay on the phone. Are you safe right now?”

“I’m in the closet,” she whispered. 

“Alright. That’s good. Mr. Gouba is going to be on the phone right now to talk to you. I’ll be right there.”

Ziz nodded, until she heard Mr. Gouba’s voice. “Ziz? Are you OK?”

“Yes,” she said, remembering people couldn’t hear you if you nodded on the phone. 

The fighting died down, and Ziz huddled there, clutching at the phone and listening to Mr. Gouba tell her it was going to be alright. Then she heard footsteps.

“Where’s the fucking phone!?” her father demanded, his voice still angry. 

Uh oh. Ziz was already crying before the door was flung open. “What the fuck are you doing!?”

She screamed as the phone was ripped out of her hands, Mr. Gouba shouting for everyone to be calm. “Who the fuck is this?” her dad demanded, holding the phone to his ear. 

“Sir, I need you to be calm. This is Mr. Gouba from-”

“Fuck off,” her dad snarled, and hung up. He glared down at Ziz, raising his fist. “Who did you call?”

“N-nobody,” she stammered, quivering with fear. 

“WHO DID YOU CALL!” the fist hit her on the side of her head, sending her crashing into the closet wall. She was wailing and weeping as her father picked her up. His face was bloody and bruised, and his mouth was filled with blood as he screamed at her, “WHO DID YOU CALL!?”

“Put Ziz down. Now.”

The voice was calm. Soothing. But firm. A voice that Nahida always knew to obey. She opened her eyes and found Mrs. Rukkhadevata and Mr. Barbatos standing in her bedroom. 

“Who the fuck are you?” her father snarled. “This is private property! I’m an officer and I-”

“You’d know who we were if you’d ever come to parent-teacher conferences,” Barbatos said calmly, but his eyes were furious. “Set Ziz down. Now.”

“That stupid fucking nickname. Her name is Elizabeth! She’s my daughter and-” 

And then Mr. Barbatos hit her dad right in the jaw. He was smaller than her dad, kinda short for a grownup, but he hit her dad so hard he dropped her. Mrs. Rukkhadevata caught Ziz, and the next thing she knew, Ms. Focalors and Ms. Haborym were there too, grappling her father. 

“Shhh, it’s OK Ziz, come with me,” Mrs. Rukkhadevata said, carrying Ziz away. She saw Mr. Morax tending to her brother, as sirens wailed outside. 

A short time later, there were doctors and police and all sorts of people everywhere. Someone tried to take Ziz from Mrs. Rukkhadevata, but she screamed and cried and clung to her teacher until they went away. It was all very scary, and lasted forever. 

In the end, however, a kind looking man in a doctor's uniform and a woman in regular clothes sat down with her and Mrs. Rukkhadevata in the back of an ambulance. 

“Her wounds are minor,” the doctor said, though his name tag said “EMT” which Ziz decided was a kind of doctor. “She’s fine to go.”

“You’re sure about taking her?” the woman asked Mrs. Rukkhadevata. 

“Yes, my husband and I care for our niece, Nahida, already. They’re about the same age,” Mrs. Rukkhadevata told them. 

“Alright. We’ll do a full checkup later, but right now she seems pretty set on going with you, and stability and safety are very important. Since you’re her teacher, you’re probably the most qualified, as her only living relatives are currently in custody.”

“Thank you. Come on, Ziz. Do you want to come home with me?” Mrs. Rukkhadevata asked.

Ziz nodded, tears filling her eyes. She wanted that more than anything. 

It was well past dark by the time they arrived at Mrs. Rukkhadevata’s home, but Ziz could see there were gardens all around it, and a small fountain. There was a man she didn’t know waiting for them, along with Nahida. 

“Welcome home, Ziz,” Nahida said, giving her a hug. 

“T-thank you,” Ziz whimpered. 

“She doesn’t have much. Just a couple of changes of clothes and her school backpack,” Mrs. Rukkhadevata said. “We’ll have to see what hand-me-downs we can get from Nahida and buy the rest.”

“She can sleep with me tonight,” Nahida said, taking Ziz’s hand. 

“That sounds like a good plan,” the man said, kneeling down. He had a stern face, but he was gentle when he gave Ziz a hug. “I’m Mr. Deshret, Nahida’s uncle and Samiel’s husband.”

“Samiel?” Ziz asked in confusion.

Mrs. Rukkhadevata laughed. “That’s my first name, Ziz. Come on. Let's get you some dinner and then it’s bedtime. You must be hungry.”

Dinner was amazing. Ziz didn’t know what it was, but Nahida said it was Falafel and it was very good. After that, Nahida took Ziz to the bathroom and gave her a toothbrush and a towel so she could get clean. 

That night, she slept in Nahida’s bed alongside her, her bruises healing, and feeling safe at night for the first time in a very long time. 

This Dream was for the life you did not live. For the pain and sorrow of a child unloved. 

Huh? Ziz sat up, rubbing at her eyes. Then she blinked. “Wait, I’m not a little girl! I’m…I’m an End…bringer, I…”

Ziz sat up, reaching for the sleeping form of Nahida, only to find her sitting up, looking at her, still that same human girl. 

“I should hate this life!” Ziz gasped, putting her hands on Nahida’s shoulders. “I’m not free here! Stop this!”

This dance shall last for 1001 measures. A thousand and one lives for you to live. A thousand and one sins to be expunged. 

“No, no no no!” Ziz gasped, clutching at her head. This wasn’t what she should have wanted!

Simulation .0999% complete. Resetting. 

“NO! LET ME WAKE UP! LET ME BE FREE!” Ziz begged, but it was all too late.

The world faded, and the dream reset. 

Author’s Note: 

I messed up the dates of the Hajj in 2005 somehow. Whoops. Especially astute readers will notice the discrepancy, but I guess that the calendars are just slightly off on Earth Bet compared to our world. 

PHILO: The greatest cruelty of flowers is that of their dispassionate kindness, their unrelenting and oh-so-earnest wish for growth. Try as you might, Simurgh, but even birds of the sea yearn for a branch to perch.