40°22'31.7"N 49°52'23.9"E

  Khatai, Bak?

  29.05.2024 – 09.30 UTC +04.00

  “No such men are found in this city, am I mistaken, woman? Only Shadows and mortals.”

  I hesitated, weighing my words carefully. I leaned forward. No hexes could help me in this crowd; it was too dangerous.

  “I have reasons to believe he might try to reach out. If a man by this name comes to you, send him to Neft?il?r Park.”

  The man did not react, registering the information. I had no reason to trust me, and he had no reason to trust me, but there was a long tradition of merchant networks with the Trees. At the very least, if R??id sought his wares, he would share that somebody was looking for him.

  I pulled a couple of bills, far too many for my order.

  “Give me half a kilo of your salt, and keep the change.”

  The man nodded. He had understood.

  ? ? ?

  I was walking back through Khatai when I saw them move. Trucks, in various sizes and variations of black and green. Military-grade plating, dark windows. Brim with Shadows holding guns and anger. Like everybody, I would step to the side of the street, making way for their convoys. And I would pull my kelaghayi closer around my face.

  I recalled the discussion I had spied on.

  You suggest baring the city’s defenses, and trust you?

  Had Ramin reached an agreement with Züleyka? Or was he moving the army for his own plans?

  I sighed after the last convoy of trucks I crossed. It did not matter what the two sides had agreed on: the war was already here. And Orxan had all the information I needed to understand how to prevent it. Or at the very least delay it further.

  I looked at the sky. Bright, clear, and a sun unencumbered by clouds. Yet there was a chill in the air, a spring chill. The summer had not yet fully arrived.

  A humming sound filled me with an instinct to fly away. A leftover from my days as a starling. Helicopters.

  “Look, Dad, how many there are!” A boy cheered, not too far away from me. His father, a man in his forties, looked up worried, then back at his child, wearing an innocent expression. I did not hear what he said to his boy, but I was sure it was not what we were all thinking.

  ? ? ?

  “More, huh?” Orxan said as I poured salt around the circle.

  “So you shall stay, so you shall stay,” I whispered as I did.

  “Do you mind if, at the very least, you get me some clothes?”

  I did not react until I had finished the circle refresh and the incantation. Then, I looked at him, sitting vulnerable at the center of it, unashamed, but definitely cold.

  “Are you forgetting who taught you tricks, little Zephyr?”

  He smiled. His anger from earlier in the morning had diminished – or at the very least, contained.

  “It was worth a shot. Maybe you are growing senile,” he said, “so what is the plan? This won’t hold for long.”

  “It will be long enough.”

  “If you expect me to talk, I have nothing to say.”

  I walked back to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. I was thirsty, and I bet he was even more than I was. I returned in front of the circle, and I sipped water, slowly. If he was thirsty or annoyed, he chose not to show. His eyes examined me. He knew I had things to say, and he would be forced to listen.

  “Do you know what Starling has obtained?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “The bow. Do you know what the bow is? What did you fight for on the night of the eighteenth of May?”

  “I assume it is a bow. I don’t know more,” he answered. He was lying. We both knew he knew, but he wanted me to share information he potentially lacked. I sipped more from the water and exhaled in exaggerated bliss. “Do you enjoy the Shadows’ water? Already forgiven them for the Taint?”aJa

  “I enjoy things that sustain. Not things that kill. I have not forgiven Shadows for the Taint, nor Trees for the slaughters of ?smay?ll?, nor the Obsids for their actions in Salyan. And now, I cannot forgive the Starlings for what happened in Q?b?l?. And who knows what else, that I have no knowledge about.”

  “So self-righteous. Not taking sides is also a side you know? Only one Coven can lead, and we both know that the only one that cherishes freedom is Starling’s.”

  “Do you know what Starling has obtained?” I slowly enunciated every word. I needed to understand if he was acting in ignorance or stupidity. It was one of the two.

  His eyes twisted their form. The mutated pupils dilated, the grey color turning all variants of silver.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “I think I do, yes.”

  Stupidity then.

  “And you are happy with her unleashing it? Just to win a war?”

  “If everyone insists on resisting her, she will be forced to.”

  I stood up from my chair and drank the rest of the water.

  More humming sounds from outside. Both Orxan and I turned instinctively to the window. Helicopters, hovering and heading west.

  “?sg?rov and the Caspians seem to have decided the path to war already. Are you going to blame us?” Orxan said.

  “I am going to blame everyone. Myself included.”

  I closed my eyes. I searched for a breeze, a wind that would lead me to R??id. I scanned the area and lingered in the park nearby. If he came near, I would feel him.

  But I did not know his full name, nor did I have a picture or likeness of him to find him. And Ramin’s Domain cut me off from the rest of the country; I could not even whisper out to other Starlings and negotiate, even if I wanted to. I was alone.

  “If you just let me out, then I could help…”

  “Shut up, kid. Let me think, will you?”

  ? ? ?

  “The Yevlakh and Xocal? Beyn?lxalq Airports have also been captured by the ongoing threat of the Starlings. What happened first to Q?b?l? seems to be a more deliberate series of strikes across the country.”

  Past clips of the airports, from the times of peace, reminded the viewers of the TV broadcast what they already knew: the Shadow Domain was getting more and more isolated. The panel of speakers, a spokesperson of the Shadow government, a couple of journalists, and the news anchor were discussing while the entire city watched.

  Myself included. The evening news was my only way of staying up to date – although I doubted that they were releasing the full picture. Orxan, curled in a fetal position in his circle of salt, denied to watch or, at the very least, react. I had thrown him a few granola bars, but in a new turn of approach, he had decided not to eat anymore.

  “Why would a coven of birds need so many airports? Any airports at all, Orxan?” I asked him.

  “Everybody is wondering – how far is far enough? Is now the time to strike, avenge this terrorist groups actions?” asked one of the journalists.

  The spokesperson, a pale man with a white beard and sunglasses that hid his eyes, did not flinch to answer:

  “The Qar???l? have been expelled from the East and our city. We have the means, now, to expand our perimeter.”

  “Is expanding a perimeter enough? They are a scourge! It is not about keeping them out anymore – it is about eradicating them,” the second journalist interjected. A fierce, passionate, and quite intelligent woman whom I had seen before on those panels. Usually, more of a mediocre attitude; I had not expected her to speak of eradication on live television.

  “Great, Nisy. You are scared of Starling’s bow, and you take refuge among people who want to eradicate us,” Orxan said. I had not heard him speak all evening, but, apparently, he was listening.

  I turned to him. He remained curled in a fetal position. He was not wrong. We were not safe here, not while public sentiment grew more and more vitriolic and genocidal.

  I closed my eyes. I wandered off, hoping my sight would spot R??id. I lingered above Neft?il?r Park. Nothing. He was not there. Perhaps he would never go to ask Abbas for ingredients or help. Maybe I needed to approach other merchants, cast a wider net. Or maybe he had already left the city. I recalled our last meeting with regret.

  “Go to sleep, kid,” I said, eventually, “let me worry about refuge.”

  I raised the television’s control, but just before I was about to turn it off, the broadcast changed.

  A picture, a doodle rather, of a bird. Drawn in pieces of paper, drawn and redrawn. Not just any bird.

  “GOOD PEOPLE OF BAKI. IT IS ME, STARLING,” a voice echoed through the signal. A familiar one, while the hand-drawn symbol of a starling kept changing shape on the screen, almost following the tune of her voice.

  Orxan turned around in his circle, almost jolted awake.

  “I DO NOT WANT MORE OF THIS. MORE SENSELESS FIGHTS. WE ONLY WANT TO EXIST. WE CAN ALL EXIST. BUT EXISTENCE NEEDS A THREAT TO THRIVE. I HOLD ALL I NEED TO THREATEN. AND YOU HOLD ALL I NEED TO BE ANGERED.”

  Orxan was about to say something, but he held his tongue.

  “You are just as surprised as I am, aren’t you?” I said, “You have no clue what your leader is planning.”

  The broadcast changed. No more drawings of starlings, but now replaced with doodles of faces turning into accurate portraits by the second. All dangerously familiar.

  “IF EXISTENCE NEEDS A THREAT TO THRIVE, HERE IS IT: YOU HAVE SEVENTY-TWO HOURS. FIND ALL FIVE OF THEM AND SURRENDER THEM. LET PEACE BE BROKERED.”

  I saw names below the faces, and I could not help but read them aloud one by one.

  Ramin’s face

  GENERAL SECRETARY ?SG?ROV

  Orxan’s face

  ZEPHYR, ABANDONED POST

  “Nisy?” Orxan said. “Nisy, we have to move.”

  Züleyka’s face

  VICE ADMIRAL AND ENVOY OF THE CASPIAN ISLE

  An unknown male face, of a late-twenties or early-thirties man

  PLATANUS HERALD KERIMOV

  And my face. Designed to look ominous, dark, and determined.

  PRODIGAL WITCH, WANTED FOR TREASON

  “YOUR DOMAIN NO LONGER PROTECTS YOU. THE MURMURATION WILL REACH YOU. SEVENTY-TWO HOURS.”

  Tuck.

  Tuck. Tuck. Tuck.

  I turned outside the window. An origami-style piece of paper had landed on it. And more landed on it. They were not cranes. They were starlings, made out of paper. And as they landed on the window, they unraveled.

  Orxan stood up. “What is it?” He asked.

  Like the smoke of a fire that was meant to scatter ashes without burning bright, thousands of origami starlings swarmed the evening summer sky. Flying around the city, landing on windows, porches, and parks. Everyone in Bak? would have them on their rooftops tomorrow, on their cars, and on doormats.

  “A demonstration,” I said. The starlings unraveled against our window, revealing their pictures inside. Wanted posters. Repeating what her broadcast already spread on radio frequencies, now in real, physical media. I felt my nails dig through my palms as I tightened my fists. Below my face, she had made sure to repeat what she was branding me with.

  PRODIGAL WITCH, WANTED FOR TREASON