40°28'12.3"N 50°03'06.7"E – Bak? International Airport

  21.05.2024 – 00.00 UTC +04.00

  “Half-shadow, you need to let me and her escape unseen,” he said eventually. Normally, I would be shocked if I were forced to work in tandem with him again. But now, after what I had seen, something was pulling me to consider it.

  “Why?” Ramin protested and turned to me. “Are you on board with this?”

  “Catastrophe is born,” R??id said, “that’s what it means.”

  “We already saw a disaster. We were all there. If… when I get my position in Baku, I can help stop the war here,” Ramin said.

  “No,” he insisted, “Catastrophe. It is something else entirely. A weapon. I don’t know what you saw,” he said, turning to me, “but whoever utters these words does not do so in vain. We don’t have time for Starling, Adil, or, frankly, your Shadow political nonsense. I cannot waste time here.”

  Ramin turned to me.

  “Look, I won’t stop you if you want to keep running, but if you stay with me, we can bring peace to this country. You have helped me so far, I only ask you to continue to use your wards until we bring peace here,” Ramin said. He pulled out the matchbox he had previously taken from me. He handed it to me.

  “I can’t escape without you,” R??id pleaded. “Our curses combined, we are undetectable. If you don’t come, I will be forced to stay here. I promise you, you want to stop Catastrophe. This is bigger than Azerbaijan.”

  I had not realized how much I did not trust both of them until that point. I had met both of them just today, and that was only if I was willing to overlook R??id’s attack a couple of days ago.

  “Okay then,” I said, “I know what we have to do.”

  ? ? ?

  As I stepped out of the airplane, I gazed at the scene.

  The midnight sky was cloudy and dark. Bright white lights spotlighted the aircraft from emergency beacons.

  Police cars with black stripes and ambulances were lined up around the aircraft, with one black media van at the far end. A crew of reporters and three cameras were set up, undoubtedly delivering the bulletin of the year.

  I pulled my hair on my right side, hoping it would obscure most of my features from the live broadcast. Next to me, R??id leaned forward as he took every step of the stairs.

  “We will regret this,” he told me.

  Ramin, in front of us and unarmed, waved us to move faster as he joined the rest of the escapees. Some of them were already lined up in front of the ambulance, where emergency medics tested them for all kinds of shock. As I walked closely, I noticed Nuray, one of the women we had saved, as a first responder checked her eyes with a flashlight, and a policeman asked her questions.

  “And how did you escape exactly?”

  “...it was pure luck. We were close to the gates and we managed to rush to the aircraft…”

  She momentarily looked at me, and I averted my gaze. Maybe Nuray would not be the one, but it was enough that one of our companions spoke of our Curses, and the policemen of Bak?’s regime would apprehend us.

  Ramin had begged them not to, as a payment to repay the debt of being saved. R??id was also as nervous as I was.

  “Perhaps they can brave this walk,” he said sarcastically, using my words against me. I did not respond to his bitterness. Instead, I hurried to one of the medics, gesturing at me.

  “Can you tell me your name?” The medic asked as I approached her. She was a little bit taller than me, and her features looked worried as I approached.

  “Nilay,” I said.

  My feet turned cold at my response. It was the name my parents had given, not my coven. A name I had forgone for years. No one would recognize me with this, and it was an honest response that would not raise suspicions. Yet, it felt weird saying it aloud.

  “Do you know where you are now?”

  “In Bak? airport,” I said.

  “What day is it today?”

  “Monday,” I said.

  “Well, now it is Tuesday,” the woman said, “past midnight. Do you know what happened?”

  “There was an attack,” I said, “and we ran as fast as we could. I…”

  The world seemed to spin around me, in another fit of dizziness after the use of my Curses.

  “Are you feeling faint?” The medic asked, grabbing me by the shoulder.

  “No. I am fine. Really.”

  I felt my weight oscillating and resting on her hand.

  “You don’t seem okay. Let’s bring you in as well,” the medic said.

  “No, please, I just want to go rest,” I said, raising my voice.

  “Please, madame, remain calm. We need to check you for injuries.”

  “I have no injuries.”

  “That you know of. I am sorry, but this is mandatory.”

  I contemplated my options. Had I anywhere else to go anyway?

  I woke up to the faint sound of television. Traditional music.

  I opened my eyes, trying to recall my last waking moments, and instantly realized I had fallen asleep on the ride to the hospital.

  A dish with food was left next to me, a combination of boiled vegetables and mashed potatoes. Its smell reached my nostrils, particularly appetizing for hospital food.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  I looked around: on my left, there was a window with its blinds closed, with only a hint of light passing through, while on my right, curtains separated my part of the room from the rest. I could hear someone eating from the other side, while a television played an annoying traditional soundtrack.

  I grabbed the food and ate as much as I could. There were a lot of things to worry about; the first thing being what would happen if they figured out my identity. But if I were lying asleep, with food and no chains, it meant I still had time to recover my energy.

  After a good few minutes of eating, I felt refreshed. Between my lunch in K?rimli the day before and the unfortunate trip to the airport, I hadn’t had a proper chance to eat.

  The moment I leaned back, I sprang up again. I checked around my body with my hands in a terrible moment of realization: I was wearing a hospital gown.

  Where were my clothes – and most importantly, the matchbox Ramin had returned to me?

  I stood up from the bed, thankful I was not connected to any of these contraptions with medical liquids.

  “They are called IVs,” I said faintly to myself, remembering I had heard this often in medical dramas.

  I pulled the curtain, looking for a part of the room with a cupboard or a wardrobe.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi!” I said, startled by Nuray, lying in her bed and slurping down the contents of a soup.

  “I guess we are hospital roommates,” she said and smiled.

  “I guess,” I said, smiling awkwardly. It made sense – she was the only woman who survived besides me. If anything, they would have put me in the same room.

  I examined the rest of the room. There was indeed a wardrobe, next to a closed door that must have been the exit.

  “They say I have an inflammation. Something in my lungs. My hypothesis is glass dust,” she said and winked at me.

  “Oh,” I hesitated, “I am so sorry.”

  “You don’t need to be. They said I will be fine in another day, just need to be monitored and given stuff,” she said and pointed at the IV bag next to her bed.

  “I am glad,” I said and worryingly ran towards the wardrobe. Luckily, all my clothes were there. Well, the clothes Ramin had given me when I first met him. I realized that my proper starling outfit was gone, alongside all the possessions I had left in my coven. Still, it was a moment of relief to see that I had at least my set of clothes.

  “Are you going already? You just woke up,” Nuray said and lowered the music on the television.

  I had started dressing myself already.

  “Yes, unfortunately, I cannot overextend my stay,” I said hurriedly. I checked the pocket of the dress; the matchbox was there.

  “Oh, that’s a shame. All this time you were out, I started getting curious, your matches and all that,” Nuray said, leaving her dish to the side. “You are out of this world. I had heard so many stories from my n?n?cik. Others fear, but I know you mean good. Not a div’s curse, but a djinn’s. Well, a good djinn,” she said, amazed, “it was the worst day of my life, but your wonders reignite my faith in our fate.”

  I looked at her for a moment. Her eyes looked sad, but she was smiling. She had somehow found solace in the uniqueness of the curses she had experienced.

  “Not everyone sees it this way,” I answered as I opened the matchbox: a good five matches were left. That would do. “How long was I out?”

  “A day and a night. Doctors argued outside the door, not knowing why you wouldn’t wake up or what was wrong with you. They started guessing,” she said, chuckling.

  I felt my eyebrows tighten. I took a match out, I whispered and lit it, and approached the woman.

  She excitedly looked at me and the flame I held.

  “Oh! Is this how it works?”

  “Have you told them anything?” I bypassed her enthusiasm. I needed to know if she spoke the truth.

  “They asked a lot. But I did not say,” she said and smiled. She was a good woman, perhaps. She stared at me, mesmerized by my warded match’s flame. “Can I learn?”

  I nodded and sighed. I realized it didn’t matter if I could trust her or not. She was just another mortal, untouched by curses. Mortals always made the wrong move.

  “Yes, you can,” I lied and handed her the match, “count to three and blow the match.”

  The woman’s eyes dilated, and she grabbed the lit match.

  “What will happen?” She said and smiled at me, “my kids will love this when I tell them! They will visit soon.”

  “It is a surprise. Hurry before it goes out!” I told her.

  “Oh! Okay! One!”

  I nodded approvingly.

  “Two! Three!”

  I tuned in to her thoughts for a split second, faint whispers at the back of her mind.

  “You never met a Curse,” I told her as I grabbed the extinguished match.

  Her expression softened as the match left her hands, her mind and thoughts scrambling and trying to explain what she had witnessed and survived over the past days. I turned on the television again and left the remote in her hand, as she stared blankly at the screen. The traditional faint music filled the void her silence had created.

  There was no time to wonder about the consequences on her psyche. Or if I was meant to take this from her. But fortunately, I owed her nothing. I owed to no one.

  I left the room, and whispered to my match once more:

  Stay lit only for me.

  During my walk outside the hospital and as I tried to determine my next move, I aimed to prepare myself for all kinds of surprises. I hadn’t been to Bak? in years, and I had only heard stories of a unique Domain, one ruled by Shadows, where no Cursed could walk freely.

  It was described as changed, a society tied by rules and authoritarianism, a city no Cursed could thrive. The effects of the Domain were a mystery, as no one from Starling’s coven had ever returned from this city. The mortals were oblivious to this, but enjoyed apparent safety compared to the rest of the country’s districts, ravaged by coven wars.

  “Matchbox to matchbox,” I said to myself, although I knew that once outside in crowded streets, I could not successfully ward myself. I spent the last minutes before reaching the exit contemplating the plan: find a place to stay, lie low, and immediately assume a new identity. Lastly, find Ramin. He had promised he would help, but finding him in a big city would be impossible, since we were separated. I knew nothing about him. Besides his claim over the Shadow Domain of the city.

  I walked outside the hospital, and I picked up the pace, no longer warded by a match, but enjoying the bright morning sun. I walked and I walked, ready to fend off a threat at any point.

  But no threat arrived. It was a city like any other, or at least it seemed like it. The hospital was located in a very central neighborhood, surrounded by tall buildings in the center of the city. Their architecture blended red and brown, riddled with boxes of AC exhausts.

  “Don’t lower your guard,” I said to myself.

  I had been in these neighborhoods before, in my early twenties. I was not far from the zoo park. Nothing seemed to have changed significantly. But then, my eyes trailed over an open window of a restaurant, noticing the large television on display.

  Of all the things I had prepared myself to see, this was the least: a photo of Ramin’s face.

  It was a news broadcast dedicated to him.

  “General Secretary ?sg?rov,” I read the bulletin. A video of the National Assembly imposing building zoomed in at its entrance, where Ramin, dressed in a military uniform and accompanied by a man and a woman, stopped on his tracks to look back at the crowd and wave.

  I stepped inside the restaurant.

  “Please turn the volume on,” I asked a man sitting and reading through a newspaper. Perhaps he was the owner of the empty restaurant. He looked up, shrugged, and then, using the remote control, he raised the volume.

  “Who knows where those damned kept him? Escaped via airplane, they say,” the man said.

  I felt my throat dry up as I listened to him and the news report. His voice overlaid the clip:

  “…but nothing compares to what you, good citizens of this country, have been through. And now that I have finally returned, I will be at the forefront of ending this war.”

  The caption of the report changed, and bright red letters rose from the bottom of the screen.

  I HAVE FINALLY RETURNED!