Fortune Favors the Cursed
the-reticent-seer
diverselit
diverselit
1.3K5
An orphan girl with questionable morals. A scarred prince with two lives. One relic to change their world.
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Badriya As-Sahra is sick of piling up camel dung and ...Chapter 18
Ayaz wasn't dead, but he felt like dying.
He didn't know how long the pain had lasted, but it was long enough for him to think that Badriya should've killed him in a quicker manner than she did. At that moment, he wasn't angry that he had been too blind to see her literally backstabbing him. He had become too soft for his own good. It was as if his instincts left his body once he developed feelings for Badriya.
Badriya. That beautiful, dastardly girl. How could he have fallen for her? They were nothing alike. And yet, somehow. . . it just happened in an instant.
Ayaz wished that his mother was still alive so he could ask her for advice. She was the one he'd come to when it came to matters of the heart and mind. She would've known what to do if he'd ever come across someone that caught his heart. The woman did fall in love with his now-despicable father.
The pain in his chest soon dwindled into a dull throb, and Ayaz breathed a shaky but relieved sigh. Finally.
"Open your eyes, kid," a man's voice. That voice again. "You're awake."
Ayaz snapped his eyes open, but quickly narrowed them at the first thing he saw. The sun was high up in the sky, indicating late afternoon. He must've been lying under the sun for so long because he swiped the thick layer of sweat that collected on his forehead. Moments later, he felt his skin burning from the heat. He dragged his hands through the ground, the sand going under his fingernails.
He was outside. Outside the cave.
Then, his gaze lowered to his torso. Where the stab wound should've been was an ugly tear that exposed the middle of his chest. And it was clean. No sign of blood or even the knife anywhere.
The wound was gone.
A light breeze blew onto his face. "Marhaba."
Ayaz perked up. He looked at his horse standing under a small shade made by the high mountain. As he tilted his head, Layl blinked at him with a seemingly-judging look. His trusty steed didn't look like he was starving or thirsty, so not more than a day or two should've passed since he fell unconscious. But Layl must have been waiting for him to feed him anything.
"You're finally up."
Ayaz narrowed his eyes. Am I turning mad. . .? "Are you—"
"The horse is not the one who's talking." The voice, which definitely didn't come from Layl, sounded amused. "And no, you are not hearing voices in your head. I'm real."
"Who are you?" Ayaz still searched around him. "Show yourself."
"I wish I could, kid, but I lost my body a long time ago." The gale picked up strength for a moment as if taking a deep sigh. "You can focus on your horse friend if you want to picture me as a living being. All that's left of me is my voice."
"Your voice?" he repeated.
Ayaz closed his eyes. He'd learn every tale and myth that existed in his country and more. Many involved terrifying creatures and monsters beyond one's imagination, but some of them, those of which were 'harmless', were rarely known and told by people since they were. . . well, harmless and uninteresting. But he knew exactly what—or who—he was dealing with.
"You're a Hatif," Ayaz said, looking around once more. "I'm talking to a dead man."
"Is that what I am called?" the voice mused. "I don't remember much before I died, but I don't think I knew a lot about folktales."
"So you've been dead for a while," Ayaz guessed. "Do you remember your name?"
"Fudail," the voice answered. "My name. That's the only thing I can remember in confidence. I'm not sure what my father's name is."
"I. . . see." Ayaz had his hand travel to his chest. "Were you the one who healed me and got me out of the cave?"
The wind died down for a second before coming back. "I believe so. . . And before you ask, I myself am not even sure how."
"How come?" Ayaz asked. "A Hatif is not supposed to be able to do anything. You're just a ghost with no vessel and only words." He quickly added, "I mean no offense."
"It's alright," Fudail said. "I'm not even sure if I understand anything that we are saying right now. Your words and mine. . ." A pause. "They come in and out of my ears—let's pretend that I still have those. It's like the words are bent around, but I try to catch up."
Ayaz went deep into thought as he stared down at Layl. "How long have you died? Do you remember?"
"I just know that it's been a long time," Fudail said. "I don't think I've talked to anyone but you since I was. . . dead. I'm not even sure if I even did anything before I 'came' to you and helped you."
"Perhaps you'll remember your memories over time," Ayaz said, his tone hopeful.
Pushing himself up, Ayaz limped towards Layl, the hot air subsiding. He brushed his mane gently, leaning beside the animal's back for support.
Hatif were, as far as he could remember, bodiless souls that lingered near graves. Some said they were an omen of death, others said they were simply a figment of one's mind as a result of loneliness. Ayaz doubted that it was the latter. Fudail probably 'reappeared' because Ayaz was on the brink of death.
Ayaz tugged lightly on his mother's ring. The thought of him crossing the threshold of the afterlife made him unsettled. He wasn't much of a believer in anything but his cause, but he wondered if he would ever meet his mother again once he died too.
Another theory then came to mind: since it was said that Hatif manifested around graves, it would be possible that there was a grave hidden somewhere near the cave.
Or maybe Fudail's remains were inside the cave. That's why he was able to aid Ayaz, however he did it. Fudail must've been looking for the Jewel but ended up dying along the way.
The Jewel. Badriya got the Jewel—that's why she stabbed him as a distraction. He almost forgot.
The Sultan. . . Ayaz was in so much trouble.
"Fudail?" Ayaz called. "Are you still there?"
The wind returned. "I am," Fudail said. "Wait. . . Did you ever tell me your name?"
"No, I didn't. It's Ayaz." He leaped over Layl's back, his grip on the reins. "If I leave this place, will I still hear from you?"
The breeze gained speed. "Leave? Where are you going?"
"I have to go back. . . home," Ayaz said, hesitating on the last word. "The reason I came here was to find the Jewel of Opulence hidden in the cave up in the mountain. But I failed. By any chance, do you know anything about it?"
"The Jewel of Opulence?" Fudail echoed. "I. . . I think I remember. . . something."
"What is it?"
"I think. . . someone I knew died because of it."
Ayaz's brows shot up. That was a piece of information he didn't expect to hear.
"Can you elaborate more?" he asked gently. "How exactly did that person die because of the Jewel?"
The breeze turned into a strong gale, picking up sand and forcing Ayaz to close his eyes. "He—She didn't die because of the Jewel." Fudail's voice was a murmur. "S-She ran away from her duty to go someplace else, but her family. . . her family wasn't pleased when they found out. And then, the Jewel—they were trying to look for it and wanted her to help, but she didn't want to and. . . That's all I can remember."
"That's fine," Ayaz said as the gale turned into a light gust. "Listen. I will go now, but I promise to come back once I sort things out. I will also try to help you find out what really happened to this person you're talking about."
"Thank you, kid," Fudail said. "I will never forget you."