The Sand Isle's dunes glowed under a moonless sky, the buried temple's runes flaring like embers in a dying brazier. Zahra al-Nur stood before its entrance, her heart pounding with a cocktail of rage and sorrow, the two shards of the Heart of the Sands burning cold in her satchel. The fire jinn loomed, its form a roaring blaze of molten flame, its ember eyes locked on her, the red-robed figure at its side laughing—a low, cruel sound that grated like sand on raw skin. Yasmin's betrayal still bled in Zahra's chest, her friend's tearful plea (Samir had my sister) a wound that wouldn't close, though her attempt to fight in the shrine had sparked a flicker of doubt. The shards' song wailed, a dirge that tugged at Zahra's bones, her arm's blue veins glowing past her elbow, a curse she couldn't outrun. Her scarf clung to her sweat-damp neck, and her eyes burned, tears threatening as she gripped her scimitar, its blade a frail comfort against a jinn."
Get back!" Layla shouted, her pirate blade raised, her wild curls singed from the jinn's heat. Her grin was fierce, but her eyes betrayed fear, wide and flickering like a candle in a storm. "That thing'll roast us!"
Zahra's throat was tight, grief and defiance choking her. "Not if I roast it first," she rasped, her voice cracking, raw with the pain of Yasmin's treachery and the weight of the shards' curse. Her heart ached for the days when her biggest worry was dodging port guards, not jinn or warlords. Now, she was a smuggler with a destiny she didn't want, and it hurt like a fresh scar.
Jafar, his salt-crusted beard streaked with sand, pulled Malik behind a sandstone pillar, his scar creased with urgency. "The fire shard's in that temple, girl!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with worry. "But the jinn's bound to it. You can't fight it without paying more."
Zahra's nerves sparked, like a flint in the dark. The blue veins on her arm throbbed, a cold fire that scared her more than the jinn's flames. "Flames scar me," she whispered, her voice trembling but fierce, "but I'll scar them back." Her eyes stung, tears spilling despite her grit, and she swiped them away, furious at her own weakness.
Yasmin stepped forward, her dagger drawn, her face a mess of tears and resolve. "Zahra, let me help," she pleaded, her voice breaking, eyes red and desperate. "I messed up, but I'm here now." Her braids swayed, sand clinging to her cheeks, and Zahra's heart twisted—grief, rage, and a sliver of longing for the friend she'd lost.
"Prove it," Zahra snapped, her voice raw, cracking with pain. "But don't expect forgiveness." Her tears burned, and she turned away, the shards' song drowning out Yasmin's choked sob.
The fire jinn surged, its flames roaring like a furnace, the air shimmering with heat. The red-robed figure—its face hidden, its laugh a venomous hiss—raised a hand, and the jinn lashed out, a whip of fire cracking toward Zahra. She dove, sand scorching her palms, her scimitar clattering as she rolled. Her heart raced, fear clawing her throat, but she grabbed the shards from her satchel, their light blinding, their song a wild chant that steadied her trembling hands.
Layla charged, her blade slashing at the jinn, drawing a howl like molten metal. The jinn's flames grazed her, singeing her arm, and she stumbled, cursing, her grin gone. Yasmin darted in, her dagger flashing, striking the jinn's fiery mass, her face fierce despite the tears. "For you, Zahra!" she shouted, her voice cracking with desperate hope.
Zahra's chest ached, a raw wound—she wanted to believe Yasmin, but trust was a broken mast, useless in a storm. She thrust the shards forward, letting their song guide her, reckless as a sailor leaping into a squall. The air twisted, a gale erupting from her, sand swirling like a dervish. The wind clashed with the jinn's flames, steam hissing, but the jinn held, its ember eyes glaring.
Zahra staggered, her vision blurring, the shards' power draining her like a punctured wineskin. Her arm burned, the blue veins glowing brighter, creeping toward her shoulder. She gasped, pain lancing through her, fear choking her—a sob tore free, not just from pain but from the crushing weight of it all. "I can't do this," she whispered, her voice breaking, tears streaming as she sank to her knees.
Yasmin dropped beside her, her hands shaking as she grabbed Zahra's shoulders. "You can," she said, her voice fierce through tears. "You're stronger than me, than Samir, than this jinn. I betrayed you, but I won't let you fall." Her eyes burned, pleading, and Zahra's heart cracked, a flicker of hope battling her grief.
Jafar's shout cut through. "The temple, girl! The shard!" Zahra glanced at the entrance, its runes flaring, the fire shard's glow pulsing within. She stood, her legs shaky, clutching the shards, her breath hitching. "Cover me," she said to Yasmin, her voice soft but steel-edged, a fragile trust she wasn't ready to name.
Yasmin nodded, her dagger raised, and charged the jinn with Layla, their blades a blur. Zahra sprinted, sand stinging her face, her heart pounding with fear and resolve. She reached the temple, its air thick with ash and myrrh, the fire shard on a sandstone altar, its light a molten red. She grabbed it, its heat searing her palm, and the song tripled, a harmony of power and pain. A vision flashed—darkness, the wind-cloaked figure, its storm-cloud eyes blazing. Three shards burn, but the curse consumes all. The Stone Isle holds the next, but blood will fall. A flash of cliffs, a stone altar, a scream.
Zahra reeled, her breath a sob, tears streaming as the curse's weight crushed her. The jinn roared outside, its flames surging, and the red-robed figure's laugh echoed. She stumbled from the temple, the three shards humming, her arm's blue veins now at her collarbone. Yasmin and Layla fought, bloodied but unyielding, and Zahra's heart swelled—grief, hope, and defiance mixing like a storm.
Then, a shadow moved behind Yasmin—a Fire Isle assassin, its blade raised. Zahra screamed, her voice raw, "Yasmin, behind you!" But the blade fell, and Yasmin crumpled, blood blooming on her side.
Zahra's world stopped, grief and rage exploding in her chest, the shards' song a war cry.