Song of a Dead Star

by Zamil Akhtar

  Though the man had no weapon, Kav recalled the Magus’s floating blade, shedding blue light and slicing Sons down the middle.

  Unseen energy...but why’s his cloak gone? Can he or can’t he conduct?

  “I’m taking Layla back,” Kav said. “Get in the way, and I’ll add you to the growing list of dead Magi.”

  Asha unsheathed his blade. Standard size, TEX issued. “Kav, you’re terribly confused. And you really need to die. I mean it this time. But before you do, let me explain everything I know about your sad condition. I could kill you without doing so. Even without conduction, I’m still a superior dueler. But I’d rather you didn’t die a confused soul, so let me tell you the truth behind everything that’s happened.”

  Don’t listen. He’s trying to break your motivation. Just plug in the twicrys, kill him, take Layla, and get out of here. You will be happy and free!

  A flurry of footsteps clanked on the grate outside. Soldiers in black coursed toward the room and lined up behind Asha. He motioned “stop” to them with his hand.

  “The mindwriter, the Whisperer in your head,” he said, “I know who it is.”

  Asha reached behind his back and took out a book. Like he just picked it out of the air. A notebook, Continental issue, the kind everyone used at the Ekrah Academy.

  “Remember this?” He tossed it on the floor in front of Kav. “After going through all your belongings, I found that to be the only thing of interest.”

  Kav stared at it. Worn from the bottom of the spine, a pen swirl on the top right. “My dream journal?”

  Asha nodded. “I did some research, to build upon what I learned from my trip into your head at SADB. Are you afraid to learn the truth?”

  A sudden shift in inertia tilted the room. A box of tools flew into the wall, scattering metal things on the floor. Fresh TEX brand screwdrivers, hammers, conduction cranks. Kav relaxed his feet to remain balanced.

  “Let me continue.” Asha stood firm, unbothered by the tilt. “That girl is not Layla, never was. The real Layla died seventeen years ago, when you were just a child. A grave marked with crystal flowers was dug for her in a quiet town somewhere near Qindsmar. Sound like a place you’ve been?”

  Mind games. Magi are fond of them. The Whisperer messaged.

  “You love fucking with people, don’t you?” Kav didn’t want to consider it. Then he remembered the dream and the digging and the certainty with which he believed Layla was in that grave.

  Kav, you dug that grave and saw yourself that it was as empty as this Magus’s words! Don’t succumb!

  “All the birth and death certificates are at the Continental Registry in Kostany, you can check the records yourself,” Asha said. “In fact, there was never a girl in the Hayat family by the name of Layla. But I did find this.”

  He took out a folded paper from his sleeve and tossed it at Kav. Without taking his eyes off the Magus, Kav picked up the paper and undid the fold.

  It was a birth certificate of a female born in Kerb, a year after Kav. A pang hit his heart when he read the name: “Mirealia Hayat.”

  I know that name...

  Tusir’s fiancé. And the name of the girl behind the mask of Magus Dahma. Her last words, as she bled from each limb, echoed in Kav’s mind: “Do you even remember me?”

  “What does it say?” Saina peered over.

  But Kav scrunched the paper and tossed it at the heel of Asha. “That means nothing to me.”

  “I’ve gathered all the pieces of your puzzle, Kav.” Asha smirked. He had a missing front tooth. “But Layla is just one half of the puzzle, because what you also need to understand, Kav, is that you are not Kav, and you never were.”

  “Of course.” Kav laughed. “And next you’re gonna tell me I’m the devil himself.”

  “That’s actually not far off. What you are is a puppet, one impregnated with false memories, emotions, and yearnings. A puppet on the strings of the greatest enemy of Eden. We call these puppets ‘Majnoon’.”

  Don’t let him get to you, Kav. Layla is here, Layla is real. Fight for her!

  “Right.” Kav clenched his sword tighter. “I’ve heard enough about your puzzle, Asha. I know who I am, and I know what I’m doing!”

  “Oh, but you don’t. You see, there really was a boy named Kav. But he died in Kerb, and you, a Majnoon, took his memories. Without an identity, a Majnoon is just an empty puppet. But with an identity, with a burning desire, a Majnoon becomes a powerful tool.”

  The word “Majnoon” pulled at Kav’s heart. He’d been called “Majnoon” before, in the forest and aboard that ship...

  Asha continued, “But that’s not the half of it. With a basic identity, new memories can be written onto a Majnoon to give him purpose. And so on top of the identity you gained, a new memory was woven. The story of an unlikely love, of two souls becoming one, and then separating with the pain of a dying star. Your dreams, Kav.”

  “No matter what you say,” Kav said, “I’ll never doubt the one thing I know to be truer, realer than all else — the time I spent with Layla.”

  Asha shook his head. “I feel sorry for you. How many times have you prayed that Nur bring her back? How many times have you called for His help? But you never got what you wanted. The only one who answered your call, who gave you hope, was the Whisperer, no? Would you like to know who he is?”

  It’s a trick, Kav.

  “He is the One who Watches the World. The Light of the Dark Sun.” Asha pointed to the ceiling. “Angra Mainyu — God of the Haemians.”

  “No! It’s not true!” Kav extended his blade at Asha.

  Asha continued. “And you are Majnoon, a puppet on his strings, treading a path of discord with the mission to bring Eden to ruin.”

  “Another god?” Saina said. “There’s only one god. Nur, Master of the Heavenly Throne. And He answers all prayers.”

  “You’re full of it.” Kav kicked his dream journal. It sprawled open at the boots of Asha. “I don’t know any other god. I don’t know of anyone named Angra Mainyu. I’m not confused, I know what I’m doing.”

  “You cling to your fantasy in vain,” Asha said. “Tell me, did your brother recognize you? No one from your past life could because despite having his memories, you don’t look like the real Kav.”

  Mezzin...he didn’t believe that I was Kav. “He’d lost it. And besides, Shar recognized me, and he can attest you’re the one spouting fantasy!”

  “That’s because Shar is also a Majnoon. Only, his Layla is you.” Asha picked up the journal. “But that’s for another day. A Majnoon, like someone with A’ab disorder, needs light to go on living. Sound familiar?”

  Saina glared at Kav. Was she starting to give in too? “You’re making all this up! Kav...Kav isn’t evil!”

  “No one is evil,” Asha said. “Everyone is motivated by simple fears and desires. Majnoon here simply wanted the pain to go away, the pain of having dark, empty spaces inside. If only you embraced that pain, that aloneness, you could be free. Aloneness is beautiful, it is the only path to nothingness, to annihilation, to fanaa.”

  “Shut up!” Kav said. “I’ll take Layla, and unless you get out of my way, I’ll put you on this path to nothingness that you love so much.”

  “Before you try, one more question. Where did you get that twicrys?” Asha pointed at Kav’s pocket. “Your so-called bond?”

  Sweat dripped down Kav’s back. “Layla, she gave it to me when we married, and—”

  “No! Kav, this is where the truth crushes your fantasy. That twicrys can’t exist. You wrote in your journal that she gave it to you while in a lucid dream. So, now you see, the kink in your falsehood! The proof that you’ve been mindwritten with made up memories. How can you have something physically in your possession from a dream?”

  “Shut up. I...” Shivers seized Kav’s limbs.

  “Look how many have suffered because of your insistence on falsehood. Your Almarian friend should know that it’s because you killed Magus Vahman th
at Qindsmar was defenseless when the Elkarians came.”

  Saina gasped. “No...Kav wouldn’t.” Her sword jittered as she shook her head.

  He’s lying, Kav. Vahman was traveling to SADB, not Qindsmar. You know this.

  “If that’s true,” Kav said, “then why didn’t you slit my throat when you had me in the sky?”

  Asha laughed. Not the laugh of a middle-aged man – too husky and hoarse. “Angra Mainyu Himself saved you, his beloved Majnoon. How else could you have survived that, and the crash of the 409?”

  Shar saved you, you can ask him yourself.

  Inertia tilted the ship again. How high up were they?

  “It’s not true,” Saina said. “If anyone’s serving falsehood, it’s you people. Kav’s not like that.”

  Asha bit his lip. “Listen, Kav. Put down your weapon. Surrender. I’ll end it painlessly. And I’ll make sure this one, who thinks so highly of you, is safely returned home. Don’t let her get caught in your reckoning.”

  Kav looked over at the girl wrapped in wires. A girl who didn’t speak his language. A girl who seemed like a girl from a dream.

  Then he looked at Saina. A fragile tiger with red eyes. How much suffering had he caused her? If he could save someone, then for her sake, he should...

  “Fine...you win.” Kav dropped his sword. It clattered onto the floor. “See Saina to safety, then do what you will with me.”

  He’s deceiving you about his weaknesses, while injecting weakness into you. All so you give up. Pick up your sword!

  “A selfless final act.” Asha approached, blade ready.

  Saina got in his way. “You’re not touching him!”

  “Don’t, Saina,” Kav said. “He’s right. I might be serving the enemies of Eden. I might be responsible for your suffering, and—”

  “No!” Saina said. “When I called for help after Qindsmar went dark, you risked your life to save me. When we were in the sky onboard the Elkarian ship, you shielded me and bled to keep me safe. And when I was about to be sold into slavery, you gave up your most precious thing to free me. Kav, you refused to abandon me, so I refuse to abandon you.”

  “A touching eulogy,” Asha said. “But I feel no mercy for little girls, little girl. My soul is free of all emotion, of every formed and formless attachment. Understand that, and reconsider.”

  “I know.” Her blade pointed straight at the human Magus.

  Asha’s stance was unbalanced: too much pressure on the back foot. A flimsy grip invited Saina in. Kav envisioned her rushing at Asha and that butterfly sword biting down, halving her.

  Plug it in, Kav. There’s no other way out!

  Asha approached the fragile tiger. A girl in Son’s clothing. The last one left to fight for Kav, even when he wouldn’t fight for himself. Soldiers entered the room, watching with hoarding eyes.

  Plug it in!

  Kav reached into his pocket, felt the bond against his fingers.

  No choice.

  That day weeks ago, at a place called SADB, Zauri was told she had to burn the entire base and every ship in the sky.

  I can’t. No-no-no not this time.

  What’s wrong with you? It’s kill or be killed. Every ship in that base is coming after you!

  Let them. Disconnect me. Throw me out of the sky. But I won’t.

  Oh Nur, you’ve lost it. I’m going to have to ask for a psych check up.

  Nur is going to punish me if I do it.

  She hovered above them: ants covering themselves with tissues. One misplaced breath and she’d blow them away.

  Nur is going to punish you if you don’t. This is an order from the Patriarch, who acts on behalf of the People of Nur. If anything, you’ll be punished for resisting me.

  What if he’s right? What if that’s why?

  Decloak, and begin simultaneous attacks on the ground and at the ships in the sky. Unleash!

  He must be right. Because she couldn’t say no. The Word was irresistible.

  But there was space between his Word and her will. Emptiness, stillness, peace. If she could expand that space, let it balloon through her arms and legs, maybe she could resist.

  But all that filled the space was the Word.

  Zauri fired a blue volley at the ants huddled beneath tissues. They charred and broke to pieces. She burned their ant castles, sliced their ant ships.

  They shot things at her. Itty-bitty lights. Fireflies that died when they hit her skin.

  Then, in the midst of battle, she felt her skin flare. A flash blinded her, melted her face, and whispered in her ear. A bullet cut through her abdomen — her innards sucked out by a vacuum. Her consciousness seeped through, went somewhere.

  To that river. She floated in that reddish fluid under a white sky.

  “Someone kill me.”

  “Okay — we will,” a ghost from heaven said.

  There was an imprint of a face in the sky. As if the sky was a sheet and someone was underneath. More appeared. Ghosts. The sky filled with their faces — masks of white.

  Each face opened its mouth. Beads of light buzzed out. Fireflies with hell on their wings.

  “Stop! I won’t do it ever again! Please!”

  The mouths echoed her. “Stop I won’t ever do it again ever again — stop I won’t ever do it again ever again — stoppp again ever again-again-again stoppp.”

  The fireflies flared toward her. Screeeeech. Her ears exploded. The river grew arms. Those arms grabbed her and pulled her apart. The fireflies burned her two halves.

  A mask laughed. Like a ghost piano on a broken note. “HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA.” All the masks joined in. “HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA.”

  And then the masks turned to ash. The white sheet ripped, the sky tore. A hand reached in and pulled her out, and she was whole again, in a cool river under a diamond sun.

  The man with the forehead of an Elkarian hero stood at the river bank. Zayd. “I had to wait a wonderfully long time for you.”

  “Huh?” Zauri said. “It’s only been a day since I last saw you, hasn’t it?”

  “Maybe to you.” He held that eight-sided star in his hand. “Let’s get this done. Get up and follow me.”

  Zauri climbed out. A dress of angel feathers covered her to the knees.

  “Why do I keep coming here when I sleep?” Zauri asked as she followed him through a field.

  “Sleep is a kind of death.”

  “So, am I dead or asleep?” Stalks of sunshine corn grew everywhere, reaching to her waist. “Is this heaven or hell?”

  A mountain waited ahead: a single protrusion of land, erected out of the plain. At the tip, the sky seemed to bend, as if holding hands with the earth.

  “Huh? What’s up there?” Zauri pointed at the mountain tip.

  “The way out.”

  Once they reached the mountain base, Zayd started on the gravel path up. She followed him on the earth’s arm.

  “This place is so alive, yet still,” Zauri said. “Can I...stay here?”

  “Not forever. Sooner or later, you’ll end up where you were.”

  They climbed to the elbow of the mountain, almost where it clasped hands with the sky. Like two lovers, the earth falling, the sky catching him.

  “But, I don’t want to go. I want to stay here.”

  Zayd paused on the mountain’s wrist. “You have to open the sky, so I can get to the other side.”

  “Why? What does that have to do with me?”

  “You’re the only one who can.”

  “Only one? I don’t get it. What’s so special about me?”

  Zayd stood like a statue. “You’re special, because this is your world.”

  “My world?”

  “You’ll understand once you insert the key.” He took her hand.

  “No!” She pulled her hand away. “I’m tired. I’m tired of doing what others tell me without knowing why. Not this time!”

  Zauri turned and walked down the earth’s arm. Zayd grabbed her shoulder.

  “Leave me al
one!” She slapped it off and kept going. “I want to stay here!”

  “Layla — wait.”

  “That’s not my name!”

  “I’ve been stuck here for a hundred years!” Zayd said. “You were sent to open the way. There’s something coming, something that no one can stop but me. The world needs me to wake up!”

  She looked deep into him. He wasn’t heroic. He was sickly and skinny. The wisdom and power of his being seemed an illusion.

  “I’ve got to worry about myself.” Zauri couldn’t bear to look at him. As she turned to walk away, something pattered onto the dirt next to her.

  The eight-sided star.

  “Let me tell you something,” Zayd said. “This place isn’t going to remain a paradise. The guilt you feel, for all those you hurt in Qindsmar, will eat away at the sunshine. You will punish yourself.”

  Her heart stopped thudding for a beat. “How do you know...about what I did?”

  “Because.” He approached. “I saw it happen.”

  The world darkened. The diamond sun dimmed like a firebulb flickering to death.

  “The truth is, you’re the reason I have to get out of here. I must bring you down, before you annihilate everything. My name isn’t Zayd, not anymore. I am the Grand Magus Haytham.”

  No longer a man, he was now a Mask: white like the fire that scalded her, more demonic than those masks that laughed at her.

  She didn’t fear him; her true form was five thousand times larger than his. “I understand now.” She smiled in the face of the demon. “If we leave, then you’ll stop me, right? That’s what I want. But do you really think you can?”

  “I am the greatest conductor that ever lived, and I say this with no pride. Rest assured, I can.” His mouth didn’t move because he didn’t have one. Was there even a body underneath?

  Zauri picked up the eight-sided star. There were inscriptions on it. One read, “The Throne rests above the Seventh Heaven.” She didn’t bother reading the rest.

  “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  The sky bent where its finger caressed the mountain tip — love flowing through. At the center was an indenture, orbited by clouds and fireflies. She reached for the sky to plug in the star.