Wisps of silver smoke curled around the oppressive sun. Flames would soon dance across the horizon and bleed the sky dry. The world would acquiesce to violence once more. 

​

Mahira tightened her grip on the reins of her horse. The thunderous noise of the comrades riding alongside her did little to instill any comfort. Above them, a convey of chukars flew out from the woodland. Treachery awaited the Azadrian Army in the village of Gulaba in the heart of the Kala Forest. 

​

Although she had yet to graduate from the Training Corps, Commander Leila had assigned the top twenty cadets to fight in the vanguard alongside the Combat Unit. Instead of aimlessly jabbing their talwars at fake targets, the cutthroat cadets in her class whose mouths frothed at the prospect of seeing a Jinn in person would finally have the real-life experience that they desperately craved. It repulsed her. The cruel irony is that not all of them would make it home. 

​

Commander Leila roared with a ferocity that almost scared Mahira. “For Azadria, fight for all those who dare to exist and endure! For all those who remain of humanity, do not capitulate to the monsters who threaten our existence! Fight with every muscle in your body! Maut tak!”

​

“Maut tak!” 

​

Everyone’s impassioned battle cries fused into one resonant sound that encapsulated the sheer fortitude of humanity.

​

Until death.

​

A heavy feeling suddenly settled into Mahira’s stomach. She recalled her crippling fear of losing the only person in the world whom she cared about. 

​

“Dariush,” Mahira called out to her childhood friend as he tightened the laces of his leather boots. Probably lost in his own world, the sound of her voice brought him back to reality. She maneuvered her way through the cadets fretfully scuttling around their base.

​

Dariush’s face was always a storm of emotions. Green eyes electrified with anger at the world. Eyebrows constantly furrowed in thought. Mouth pressed in a frown. 

​

“What is it?” he asked.

​

Mahira grabbed his forearms. “Don’t die today.” 

​

Dariush flashed her an irritated look. “Don’t tell me you came all the way over here to tell me that,” he snapped, pulling away.

​

“Listen to me,” she urged, “I know how long you’ve been waiting for this moment, but you need to keep your emotions in check. Just follow orders. Listen to the people who have been doing this for longer than you. Don’t die a meaningless death. Don’t even die a meaningful death.” 

​

As she spoke, Mahira unconsciously ran her fingers through her hair, twirling and tugging at her wavy strands. She didn’t even realize what she was doing until Dariush reached his hand out, touching her fingertips and pulling them away from her hair. 

​

“I hate when you do that,” Dariush muttered. He knew her coping mechanisms all too well. 

​

“I know,” she mumbled. 

​

“Look,” he said, “this is what we signed up for four years ago. You and I both know that there is no taking the easy way out. So, just worry about yourself,” he said. 

​

She stared at him. If there was anyone to worry about, it was him. She would survive. She always survived. But Dariush wasn’t like her. And he knew it. He was always getting himself into senseless trouble, always being guided by his resent towards everything that was unjust in the world.  

​

“Hey,” Dariush snapped at her again, “Go finish getting ready. We’re heading out to meet with the rest of the Combat Unit any minute now. And as I recall, you were assigned to the left-wing of the vanguard. I’m on the opposite side. So, I’ll see you after this is all over.”

​

He brushed past her, and Mahira wondered if this would be the last time she saw him. As if he could sense her troubled thoughts, Dariush paused to glance back at her, briefly meeting her eyes. “I won’t die, Mahira. I promise.”

​

As the viridescent gloom of Kala Forest engulfed her under an increasingly foreboding orange sky, she had no choice but to trust his promise.

​

In seconds, she and her comrades were surrounded by unfettered flames hungrily devouring the dehydrated trees and shamelessly scorching the ground. Their inferno gear was all that protected them from the ravages of the firestorm. Designed by Azadrian scientists and refined over the years, she wore a lightweight black turnout suit with her double talwars situated in holsters at her sides and her aerial navigation fuel pack resting on her back. Typically, the Jinn could be swiftly decollated from the horse itself. However, some Jinn were too large and required comrades to switch into aerial navigation mode. It was the only reason they stood a chance against the beasts. 

​

Ear-shattering screams erupted all around her. Without looking, she knew that comrades had commenced fighting the beings of flame. The remote village of Gulaba, revered for its careful cultivation of turmeric, was now in utter disarray. Families fearfully poured out of their intricately architected wooden homes, stumbling over each other as they ran in all directions. It was no wonder the Azadrian Army had enlisted the cadets to partake in this precarious operation. They needed all the help they could get. 

​

Mahira sucked in her breath, wondering how many bodies had already been mercilessly swallowed by the flames. At any moment, she would be playing the same game of death. Around her, the fire tore away at the kikar trees of the village until they were just skeletal remains of life. Her heart pounded in her chest, reminding her that she was alive and untouched. She had to push onward. 

​

The twisting maze of trees and flames before them had greatly dissolved their tactical formation. This was no surprise, as they had learned in their training, but even so, her apprehension increased. Mahira swiftly steered her horse, avoiding as much of the conflagration as she possibly could. The orders for those at the vanguard were to charge forward until each comrade came into contact with a Jinn. 

​

Within the blink of an eye, an abnormally large Jinn materialized in front of her, momentarily affrighting her into paralysis. Its eyes blazed with a red fury that made her blood run cold. Flames ejected from the creature’s gigantic hands, aiming towards her. Her eyes widened, and just in time, she jerked her horse away from the surge of fire that narrowly missed her shoulder. 

​

With quick fingers, she activated the aerial navigation mode on her inferno suit. The fuel pack situated at her back sputtered with a start, and she ascended through her through the air, barely missing other surges of fire that shot past her. She unsheathed her talwars and leaned forward, launching towards the monster. A vicious growl escaped from her mouth as she remembered all that the Jinn had taken from her nation and all that it threatened to take. She felt the blade of her talwars lacerate its neck and in one stroke, Mahira had dexterously decapitated the monster. 

​

She landed softly on the ground. When she looked up, a little girl stood before her. The girl trembled, tears brimming in her brown eyes. Her patterned green tunic fluttered in the wind. Mahira didn’t need to ask the dreaded question. She knew. 

​

“My name is Mahira. What’s your name?” She felt the girl’s pain viscerally. It was once her own. 

​

“R-ruqaiya,” she stammered. 

​

“Ruqaiya,” Mahira held her hand out. “You’re going to survive this.”

​

The girl remained still. Their ears were flooded with the wailing of fleeing families, the screaming of people being scorched alive, and the roars of those who audaciously dared to take on the monsters. Most homes were collapsing from the fire. Smoke billowed through the air. They had to keep moving before another Jinn materialized.

 

“I want to go home,” she started to break down. 

​

Mahira kneeled on the ground. “I’m sorry, but your home is gone.” 

​

The girl only cried harder, her short brown hair falling over her small face.

​

“You need to come with me so that I can get you to safety.” 

​

“But my family...Ami, Abu, Baaji, I want to be with them,” she sobbed and hiccuped relentlessly. Mahira began running her fingers forcefully through her hair, trying to figure out what to say. They were running out of time. With every second they wasted, they drifted closer to the precipice of death. 

​

Finally, Mahira spoke, “Wo chahein gay kay tum zinda raho. Wo hamaysha tumharay andar rahein gay aur is waja say tum mazboot ho jao gi.”

​

The girl looked up suddenly and eyed Mahira’s outstretched hands.

​

They would want you to remain alive. They will always live inside of you and for this reason, you will grow strong.

​

They were the words that Dariush told her five years ago when he saved her life. It had reinvigorated her desire to endure. To never yield to the cold and pernicious forces of their world. It kept her going. 

​

“Please, come with me,” Mahira begged once more. The girl finally moved towards her, and Mahira lifted the child into her arms. She whistled and to her relief, her horse came galloping towards the two of them. 

​

Mahira recalled that the Evacuation Unit would be stationed with wagons for the refugees on the southern outskirts of the village. In just a couple of minutes, she could get this girl out of the burning forest. As they rode in that direction, Mahira watched the smoky silhouettes of her comrades fighting Jinn in the distance. She wondered how well they were faring. She wondered how Darius was faring. 

​

Ruqaiya’s scream abruptly brought Mahira’s attention back to the path ahead of them. Another Jinn had materialized several yards away. She cursed and brought her horse to a stop. Grateful that the Jinn was facing a different direction, she wrapped her arm around Ruqaiya’s waist. 

​

“Hold on,” she said before they launched through the air and alighted on a stout limb of a tree untouched by the fire.

​

“Are you okay?” Mahira let out a shaky breath. 

​

“I-I’m scared,” Ruqaiya whispered.  

​

“It’s okay to be scared,” Mahira paused and gazed at the storm of smoke in the distance. “You should know that the bravest people in this world are often the ones who are the most scared.” 

​

“W-what do you mean?”

​

“Everyone in the Azadrian Army is scared. We’re scared of the Jinn and what they can do to us,” Mahira paused and closed her eyes. “We’re scared of what they can do to the people that we care about. But, even so, we endure. We have to be brave enough to not succumb to fear. Fear exists as a reminder that we can always overcome it.” 

​

The girl remained silent for several seconds. “Baaji and Abu were at the bazaar buying bangles for Ami’s birthday tomorrow. I was in the garden with Ami. She told me to go inside to get her gloves. When I came out, there was a Jinn holding her…,” Her voice quivered, and she looked down at her hands.

​

 “Ami told me to run. Ami said, bahadur ho. Be brave. Then, the Jinn…” she let out a small cry. “The bazaar was on fire...Everyone was gone...I couldn’t find...” Tears flowed in endless streams from her face.

​

Mahira placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder. Their hearts ached together. 

​

“You are brave, Ruqaiya.”

​

Suddenly, they heard the sound of hooves beneath them. A soldier emerged from a cloud of smoke, skillfully dodging the Jinn’s fire surges and traversing the terrain with mesmerizing ease. He pressed the aerial navigation button on his suit. Nothing happened. He pressed it again. Nothing. Frustrated, he jabbed at his suit until he realized that it was to no avail. He yanked the reins and pulled his horse to a stop. 

​

The soldier dismounted and unsheathed his talwars as the Jinn maliciously approached him. It was too tall to fight without aerial navigation. He wouldn’t make it, but he would fight until his death. Maut tak. 

​

Mahira clenched her teeth. All their equipment is scrutinized, checked, and double-checked before soldiers embark on a mission. How could his button not work? When she saw the insignia of the golden nightingale on his suit, adrenaline pulsated through Mahira’s body.

​

“Ruqaiya,” Mahira started. 

​

“You have to help him? You have to be brave again, don’t you?” Ruqaiya’s eyes were red from crying. Mahira hesitated to leave the girl on her own, but she knew that she couldn’t leave a commanding officer to die.

​

“You have to be brave again too,” Mahira explained, “I need you to hold on tightly to the branch, okay? Don’t draw any attention to yourself. I will be back for you soon.” 

​

Ruqaiya pulled at Mahira’s suit. Her knuckles were white. 

​

“Mujhse wada karo,” she begged. The poor girl was shaking. 

​

Promise me. Mahira placed both of her hands over the child’s. It would take her no more than a minute to do what she needed to do. One stroke of her talwars. Then, one push of a button, and she’d be back with Ruqaiya. Mahira was capable. She was strong, and she was resilient. She could do this. 

​

“Main wada karti hoon,” she squeezed Ruqaiya’s hand. 

​

I promise you.

​

Mahira flew from the branch and towards the Jinn, her talwars gracefully beheading the creature. Its blood splattered across the ground. Once again, she landed as smoothly as she always did in training. 

​

The man was oddly calm for someone who had just narrowly escaped a gruesome demise. He was a true Azadrian soldier, fully prepared to die at the hands of the Jinn. 

​

“My aerial navigation mode stopped working. If you don’t want to perish, you need to get out of here. You only saved me from a slightly earlier death.” His voice cut into her body like a talwar. 

​

Mahira narrowed her eyes and frowned. Despite his stern composure and formidable presence, there was a faint sadness in his voice. Something about the darkness of his eyes and the scar that lined his cheekbone felt hauntingly familiar to her. When she realized who she had just saved, her eyes widened. 

​

“You’re Captain Farid.” 

​

At the age of twenty-five, he was the youngest commanding officer in the entire Azadrian Army. He had repeatedly broken his own record for Jinn kills, and his squadron was revered for their prowess. His finesse in the field was unparalleled, and everyone in Azadria knew his name. 

​

“That’s my name. Do you need any more information for my epitaph?” 

​

Mahira frowned again. He was known for being cold, but she didn’t realize he would unleash such bitterness on a cadet who had just saved his life. Pushing her thoughts about the stoic officer away, she looked in the direction of where she left Ruqaiya. 

​

Her heart stopped. At the base of the tree, a Jinn gazed up at the girl. 

​

Knowing that she could make it in time to kill the Jinn and save her, she hit her aerial navigation button. Her feet remained planted on the ground. She pressed the button again.

​

“No,” Mahira cried out.

“Yours, too?” Captain Farid sighed.

​

The Jinn began shaking the tree with all of its might. 

​

“Ruqaiya,” she yelled, “don’t let go of the branch.”

​

But, with one more vigorous shake, the girl slipped. Mahira’s heart fell out of her chest as Ruqaiya screamed. 

​

Captain Farid grasped her arm before she could run towards her. 

​

“Let go of me,” she pleaded as she writhed in Captain Farid’s tenacious grip. 

​

“That Jinn is too large to fight without aerial navigation.” 

​

Ignoring him, Mahira called out her name until her throat hurt. 

​

“Cadet,” Captain Farid scolded her, “stop screaming. You’ll draw its attention here.”

​

She continued to resist his hold on her until he forcefully pulled her towards him until their faces were inches apart. Though his words seemed austere, his eyes told a different story.

​

“Listen to me,” he said, “The Azadrian Army is running on fumes. Both of our aerial navigation modes have stopped working. Who knows who else is facing the same predicament? We need to get to the Evacuation Unit before another Jinn materializes and kills us both.” 

​

Mahira stared at him.

​

“There is nothing you can do. You made the decision to leave her. Now, you have to bear the burden of that decision.” Captain Farid whistled for her horse. 

​

Her cheeks burned with rage, and water welled in her eyes. They would have to leave this child to die. Mahira’s head dropped and her shoulders slacked. 

​

Despair overtook her useless body as she mounted her horse. She didn’t have the courage to look back until Ruqaiya called out her name. Still in its clutches, the Jinn had yet to end her life, giving her moments to impart words that would crush Mahira’s soul into oblivion. 

​

“Main nay bahadur ban nay ki koshish ki lakin dunya rehnay kay qabil nahin hai.” Tears streamed down her face, and she smiled. “Ab mein ghar ja rahi hoon.” 

​

In the next second, Ruqaiya caught fire, and she screamed in anguish. The red flames devoured the fabric of her green tunic. In less than seconds, they turned her face, eyes, and skin to ashes. Ruqaiya, the little girl from the Village of Gulaba, disintegrated into the air as if she never existed. 

​

I tried to be brave, but this world is not worth living in, she had said. I am going home now. 

​

Tears finally broke free from Mahira’s eyes. She slapped the reins on her horse and dug her nails into her hands until they bled. 

​

The nation of Azadria, as determined as it was to sustain humanity, would continually buckle to the creatures who possessed more power than humans ever could. The cries of the burned girl would haunt Mahira for the rest of her short life.