The coral shrine pulsed with red light, its air thick with the stench of ozone and myrrh, as the jinn rose from the altar, its form a swirling mass of coral shards and fury. Zahra al-Nur's heart slammed against her ribs, her breath ragged, the crystal's song in her satchel a wild scream that drowned out her fear but not her grief. Yasmin's betrayal—her friend's voice scheming with Prince Samir—tore at her like a jagged reef, leaving her raw and bleeding inside. She clutched her scimitar, its weight a fragile anchor, her arm throbbing where the shard's blue veins glowed under her skin. The second shard on the altar called to her, its light a twin to the one she carried, but the jinn's blood-star eyes promised death first.
"Move!" Layla shouted, her pirate blade flashing as she lunged at the jinn. The coral shards whirled, slicing her arm, and she stumbled back, cursing, her wild curls matted with sweat. Her grin was gone, replaced by a grimace of pain and defiance.
Zahra's throat tightened, fear and anger warring in her chest. She didn't trust Layla, but the pirate had fought for her, unlike Yasmin, who stood frozen by the cave wall, her braids swaying, her eyes wide with guilt and something softer—regret, maybe, but too late. Zahra's voice cracked, raw with hurt. "Yasmin, you gonna stand there or fight?"
Yasmin's lips trembled, her hands shaking as she drew her dagger. "Zahra, I—" Her voice broke, tears glinting, but Zahra turned away, the ache in her heart too sharp to face.
Jafar, his salt-crusted beard streaked with coral dust, grabbed Malik, shoving the kid behind a stalagmite. "Stay down, boy!" he rasped, his scar creased with urgency. To Zahra, he said, "Use the shard, girl! It's your only shot!"
Zahra's stomach churned, the memory of the shard's wind—its power, its price—burning in her mind. Her arm's blue veins pulsed, a cold fire spreading, and Jafar's warning (blood, soul, or worse) echoed like a souk merchant's curse. But the jinn surged, its coral shards slashing the air, and Zahra had no choice. She yanked the crystal from her satchel, its light blinding, its song a roar that shook her bones. Her eyes stung, tears mixing with sweat, not just from fear but from the weight of it all—betrayal, curses, a destiny she never wanted.
"Jinn may burn," she whispered, her voice trembling but fierce, "but my will burns brighter." She thrust the crystal forward, letting its song guide her, reckless as a sailor diving into a maelstrom. The air twisted, a gale erupting from her, slamming into the jinn. Coral shards scattered, the jinn's form wavering, its scream a sound like shattering stone.
Layla staggered to her feet, blood dripping from her arm, her grin flickering back. "That's the spirit, smuggler!"
But Zahra swayed, her vision blurring, the shard's power draining her like a cracked waterskin. Her arm burned, the blue veins glowing brighter, creeping toward her shoulder. She gasped, pain lancing through her, and dropped to one knee, the crystal slipping from her fingers. Malik rushed to her, his young face pale, his voice cracking with panic. "Zahra, you okay?"
"Not… yet," she panted, her heart a frantic drum, fear clawing at her. The jinn reformed, smaller but angrier, its shards swirling like a sandstorm. Zahra's eyes locked on the altar's shard, its light pulsing in time with her own. She needed it, but the jinn stood in her way.
Yasmin moved, sudden and fierce, her dagger flashing as she threw it at the jinn. The blade sank into its coral mass, drawing a howl, and Yasmin darted to Zahra, her hands trembling as she helped her up. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with tears, her eyes pleading. "Samir promised to spare my family. I didn't want to hurt you."
Zahra's heart shattered, grief and rage flooding her. She wanted to scream, to shove Yasmin away, but the jinn's roar drowned her thoughts. "Save it," she snapped, her voice raw, tears burning her cheeks. "We're not done." She grabbed the crystal, its song flaring, and stood, her legs shaky but her resolve iron.
Layla charged again, her blade a blur, drawing the jinn's attention. Jafar shouted, "The altar, girl! Now!" Zahra sprinted, her boots slipping on coral dust, her breath hitching with every step. She reached the altar, her hand closing on the second shard, its light searing her palm. The song doubled, a harmony of power and pain, and another vision hit—darkness, the wind-cloaked figure, its storm-cloud eyes blazing. Three shards remain, but the curse consumes. Seek the Sand Isle, or all is lost. A flash of dunes, a buried temple, flames licking the sky.
Zahra reeled, her breath a sob, the weight of the islands' fate crushing her. She wasn't a hero—she was a smuggler, scarred and stubborn, but the shards wouldn't let her run. The jinn surged toward her, its shards slicing her arm, fresh blood mixing with the blue glow. She screamed, pain and defiance tearing from her throat, and thrust both shards forward. The wind exploded, a hurricane that shattered the jinn's form, its coral shards raining like broken stars.
The cave fell silent, save for Zahra's gasping breaths and the shards' fading hum. She collapsed, clutching the crystals, her body trembling, tears streaming freely now—not just from pain, but from the ache of Yasmin's confession, the fear of the curse, the flicker of hope that she could fight it. Layla limped over, her grin weary but real. "You're tougher than a storm, smuggler."Jafar's face was grim, his eyes on Zahra's arm, where the blue veins now reached her elbow. "You paid a price, girl. The shards are binding you deeper."
Zahra's voice was hoarse, cracked with grief and resolve. "Then I'll pay it and keep fighting." She looked at Yasmin, her heart twisting, but said nothing. Not yet.
Malik pointed to the cave's mouth, his voice shaking. "Sails! Water Isle's found us!"
Zahra staggered to her feet, the shards heavy in her hands, their song a warning. Samir's armada was closing, and the Sand Isle's temple called. She wiped her tears, her grin sharp despite the pain. The curse could chase her, but she'd chase it back.