"I WAS SIX YEARS OLD WHEN I was put through The Trials. 464 B.C., sometime around August. I can't remember what date it was, but it was a few months after my birthday. Perhaps." Cairo's eyebrows drew together. "Maybe a little bit before."

He spoke slowly, voice measured and hoarse, not in the way somebody sounded when they were forced to speak, but in the way that felt like a misty, trance-like haze, where words and thoughts flowed without thinking.

And I, sitting in front of him, without thinking, reached out to grasp his hand. When my fingers reached to rub the back of his palm, much in the way Maman used to rub mine, I discovered that his knuckles had deep callouses, marks that could only be formed by the prolonged hold of something heavy and blunt.

I didn't know what.

"What were The Trials?" I asked.

"It's a... type of ritual. A coming-of-age, you could say, for the princes of Persia. To test if you were truly given by the Gods to be Son of the King, or given by the Angra Mainyu to cause catastrophe and destruction. My brothers underwent it at ten. I did not get the same priviledge."

"Why?"

"My mother was of lowly birth. She was never given the title of Queen. Just a concubine." Cairo's lips hooked up into a slow smile. "I was not born with luck or good faith."

I knew, without him saying anything else, that the priviledge given to his brothers far outweighed that of age. Perhaps they were prepared, trained, given resources and respect. Perhaps my prince was abandoned and alone.

With that thought, I enveloped his hand between both of mine and raised it to my lips.

Cairo's eyes shifted to meet mine for only a brief second, before they once again strayed away, deigning to look at the headboard behind me. For once, I did not take offense to someone not wishing to look me in the eyes. For once, I was not selfish enough to make the reason and story all about me.

"The Trials..." he continued. "They were difficult. Too difficult for a six-year-old boy -- or for any child, for that matter. It took place in the plains, a desert far, far away from here. They take you on horseback, then leave with it. You have five days to make it back to Archaem."

"Did you get a map?" I asked without thinking, and received a laugh in response.

"Perhaps my brothers did. But I wished for water and received spit."

The grip I had on his hand grew stronger, tighter, as if by doing so, I could give strength to the six year-old prince who had struggled through the desert, carrying the weight of uncaring eyes and death wishes.

"They left me there in the early morning," Cairo murmured. "I was woken up at around midnight, and I didn't have the chance to tell my mother that I would be put to trial before they led me away. I remember that I was afraid, very afraid, that my mother would wake up the next day and she would not be able to find me. I was afraid she would be frightened."

I pressed another kiss to his hand.

"It was very hot when I first arrived, but by nighttime, it was cold. I had the feeling that I would freeze to death, and when I sat on the sand, I started to hallucinate. I felt like I could hear my mother saying my name, even though I knew she was back at the Palace. It was she who didn't know where I was."

Cairo's mouth again twisted into a bitter smile. "I thought to myself that there were probably many princes who did not make it through The Trials, but I was probably the first one to come to King Yima on the very first day. I remember that I was afraid that my father would be disappointed, but most of all, I was afraid that he wouldn't care at all."

There was sadness in Cairo's voice, alongside a sharp, robotic edge, like a man who had skinned himself to remain pure muscle and bone; animalistic and instinctual, without the feelings or emotions coming with humanity. It was a tone I had never heard coming from this prince.

"I begged the Gods to help me," he continued. "I begged for water, for food, or for help. I begged for clarity of mind or wisdom so I could find my back home. I begged for strength so that I would be able to make it through the night. Eventually, I stopped begging, and laid accepting fate."

"And then?" I whispered. "Then what?"

"And then, just as I had given up on the idea of a miracle, what seemed like a miracle came," Cairo laughed; hollow and bleak. "But it was not the Gods."

"It was him? Jafar?"

Cairo shook his head. "No. Jafar is only the name of the body he is in; a wicked man whose mortality was not strong enough to commit evil. History books lists his crimes, but in the end, he is not an  When Jafar died, his soul dispersed with it. 'Him' now is no Jafar. 'Him' now only uses the name Jafar to possess some sense of humanity. 'He' is Kamak."

The name 'Kamak' was spat out with such deep loathing and disgust that for a moment, it seemed to bounce off the walls and echo around the room, searing through my eardrums and breaking them open.

"What... is Kamak?"

Finally, Cairo's gaze locked onto mine. "A jinn," he whispered. "The spirit of Angra Mainyu's favorite pet."

"As of recent, people call me Kamak," he said, "but I have always preferred Jafar."

"Kamak?" I whispered. The name brought a strange sense of recollection, though one I could not fully remember.

"You seem to recognize me," he laughed. "It is good to see people still know me."

In my head, it felt like it had finally clicked. Finally, I knew what that strange sense of recollection was. "Chamrosh and Kamak," I murmured. "The two mythical birds of the Gods?"

"Not so mythical," Cairo whispered. "Olden history say that the Gods are divided into two; those following under Ahura Mazda, the creator, the food and the righteous; and Angra Mainyu, the spirit of evil, chaos and confusion. Chamrosh and Kamak are a pair of twin birds with the bodies of dogs and the wings of an eagle -- Chamrosh, Ahura Mazda's wordly guardian; Kamak, Angra Mainyu's favorite pet."

I racked my brains, trying to remember the olden stories my Maman used to tell and the religious folklore taught in school when I was eight that I had always dismissed as myths; now discovering that perhaps what I'd always thought were false had been the worldly truth so many philosophers spent their lives seeking. "Chamrosh protects Persia on behalf of Ahura Mazda," I said, "whilst Kamak feeds on destruction."

Cairo nodded. "Correct. According to legend, Kamak had wings so large that on one occasion, he blocked the rain, bringing drought to Persia. In the chaos that ensued, Kamak swept down to feed on the humans, delighting Angra Mainyu so much that he rewarded Kamak with a hundred and twenty thousand corpses to feast on. Since then, Kamak had become Angra Mainyu's right-hand, helping him tempt humans into evil and cause catastrophe."

"But since when did Kamak become a spirit that possessed people? Since when did Kamak wish for mortality?"

"Kamak is a reincarnation of Angra Mainyu's thoughts and powers. History books say that there was a particular period in time when Ahura Mazda deeply favored one King, a Son of Heaven who so dearly loved the people and the Gods that he was showered with blessings -- and consequently, gave all these blessings to the people. This was a time when the Persian Empire's might was unshakeable."

"The Golden Age of a hundred years back. The rule of Syahir Darius the Great?"

"Indeed. It was at this time that the man Jafar was alive." Cairo's hand squeezed mine. "Jafar was Syahir Darius' right-hand man. He helped overlook the government, state affairs, and the people. Jafar was a sharp-minded, ambitious man, with a silver tongue that, according to history, was the only one that could calm Darius' anger down. He was the most capable man in the Syahir's kingdom, and the King trusted him greatly, loving him as one would a brother.

"But humans always want more," Cairo whispered. "That is the fault of mortality. Jafar was not satisfied with the respect and the admiration. He wanted to be the Son of Heaven. He wanted to be King. Gradually, he started to feel resentment -- not only towards Darius, but also the Persian Empire. He loathed how it felt that nobody appreciated or understood his deserving of the title, the 'Son of Heaven.' And when he understood that this title came to Darius because of Ahura Mazda's deep love and favor, he sought for help from the only one who could match that power."

"He made a deal with Angra Mainyu then," I said. "And Angra Mainyu gave him Kamak?"

Cairo nodded. "The books say that Angra Mainyu had long been angered by the love Ahura Mazda held for Darius, and in Jafar, he found an opportunity. He gifted Kamak to Jafar in the form of a spirit that would enter his body and temporarily give him the powers of Angra Mainyu."

"But there has to be a condition, is there not?" I asked. "Angra Mainyu would not make a deal with him for free."

"Where there is power, there is a price. Angra Mainyu gave Jafar power in the form of Kamak's spirit, but with it, he also gave his own will and desires."

"But humans are not built to handle the power of deities."

"No." Cairo shook his head. "We are not. According to the ancient texts, Angra Mainyu's powers and desires were so great that they would overpower Jafar's himself. In essence, when Kamak entered Jafar's body as a spirit, he was so powerful that he could not merge as one with his host no matter how much Jafar wished to; as a result, they remained two separate entities, but Jafar had now found himself with the ability to access Angra Mainyu's powers at will.

"Having a body that possessed Kamak's spirit but refusing to become one with it -- this was Jafar's biggest frustration. Therefore, he and Angra Mainyu found a solution. To use Angra Mainyu's powers, he would have to lose control and consciousness to Kamak, allowing Kamak to become him for that period of time. This was the perfect method for both parties who both wanted to see chaos ensue. As both their intentions aligned, Jafar saw no problem in continously giving control to Kamak, over and over again, allowing Kamak to use his body to wreak destruction on Persia."

A pause. Cairo had said these words lightly, like how one would tell a bedtime story to a child, but towards the end of his sentences, I could decipher the way his voice grew tense and shook at its tail.

When I looked up at him, trying to meet his eyes, I found that his gaze had fallen down to my chin.

Slowly, I pulled my hands out of his, and watched as sorrow painted the tails of his eyebrow. Then, I reached out to press a hand on his chest.

Cairo's heartbeat was fast, too fast to say he was not anxious, but the moment I laid my hand on his chest, he had covered it with his own, as if afraid that I would pull away and refuse to be near him. Slowly, uncertainly, his gaze lifted back up to meet mine.

"Is that what this is?" I whispered. "Has Kamak possessed you?"

For a moment, Cairo didn't speak.

"I don't know how I came across that box in the desert," he said. "I don't know why it was there, either. I do not remember what possessed me to open it, or what words Kamak had used to convince me. I only remember that, when I had said yes, I was thinking to myself that my mother would be so proud of me for coming home from The Trials alive."

Cairo held my gaze; desperately, horrifically, hysterically. "I did not know what the consequences of agreeing were," he whispered. "You must believe that if I had known, I would not have said yes. I do not want to be what I am now, Aliya. You must believe that I do not do this by myself, for myself, with my own free will. You must know that I lose consciousness come almost every twilight -- not out of willingness, not because I want to, not because my wishes align with his but because I, for some reason I ponder about every waking moment, had agreed to be his host. You must believe--"

"I believe," I said.

Cairo continued to look at me, eyes wide and screaming in such a way that I could tell; this time, it was him that was too scared to believe in me.

"I believe," I whispered. "I swear."

Under my fingers, I felt his heart beat slowly calm down.

"Some nights, Kamak spares me," he whispers, "once a month. Sometimes, more. Usually, less. On those days, I drink myself to sleep and wonder what my life would have been like if I had not agreed. Kamak's wishes to cause destruction does not spare even me; if he deems that he must destroy someone, he will do so no matter the relation of that person to me.

"Aliya, you asked what I had lost to him, and I told you that I had lost everything. I told you that the only reason why I had agreed was because I wanted to make my mother proud." Cairo's hands squeezed mine again, so tight that for a moment, it hurt. "A year after I came back from The Trials, when I was seven, I woke up one morning to find out that a maid and my mother had died. Nobody knew who did so, or what the motive was, but I knew it was done from his hands. But to this day, I have never asked him; he has never said a thing.

"We have no relationship, no communication, no understanding. He takes my body and my soul every night, and I have no choice but to let him," Cairo whispered. "In name, I am his host. I give him permission to live in my body. But in truth, Kamak is possessing an empty man. I have gone from a person to a host to an empty house. People say jinns live in magical lamps, but the truth is they live in the small, microseconds of selfishness and desire in people; they feast on the small, unsurpressed darkness that lives on in the cracks of humanity. They live on the parts of the world that cannot and will not die, Aliya. Even when I die, he will not die. He will return to something -- a box, a lamp, a cave -- and he will wait."

Cairo's words were spoken hurriedly, like a waterfall that had finally had a stone removed, but only one thing caught my attention.

Slowly, I twisted his shirt in my hands, and whispered, "Cairo, why do you speak as if having him in your body will make you die?"

Suddenly, the rush of words coming out of Cairo's words turned silent.

To be honest, this part posted is only half of the chapter that it should be. It's just that this itself is around 2600 words and I really didn't want to make it too long because it is a lot of information. But it was so fun to write this chapter and include all of the amazing history!

Once again, a reminder that the historical information presented here is only BASED off of actual history, but most of it is fictional and has been tailored towards the story. Please do not take these pieces of information as fact.

There were so, so, so many amazingly kind comments in the last chapter that has really served as motivation to continue writing. So, thank you <3 I hope you lobe this chapter too.

KAY ©️  2022.