The Marid pact

The night was thick with silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves outside the small, dimly lit house. Inside, the air was heavy with longing and unspoken sorrow. For years, Sameer and Mariam had dreamt of the laughter of a child echoing through their home, of little footsteps pattering across the cold marble floor. Yet, month after month, year after year, hope had turned to despair, and prayers had faded into bitter acceptance. Mariam sat by the window, her gaze lost in the darkness beyond the glass. The moonlight cast a pale glow on her face, highlighting the shadows beneath her eyes. Sameer stood behind her, his hand gently resting on her shoulder, offering comfort he no longer truly believed in. The world outside seemed to mock their emptiness, every neighbour’s child a reminder of what they lacked. That night, as the clock struck midnight, a strange chill swept through the house. The lamps flickered, and the very air seemed to thicken. Mariam’s heart pounded in her chest. She turned to Sameer, her voice trembling. “Did you feel that?” Before he could answer, a low, resonant voice filled the room—one that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Why do you weep, Mariam? Why does your heart ache so deeply?” Sameer spun around, searching for the source, but saw nothing but shadows. Mariam clutched his hand, her knuckles white with fear. “Who’s there?” she whispered. From the darkest corner of the room, a figure began to materialise. At first, it was just a distortion in the air, a ripple like heat over stone. Then, slowly, it took shape—a tall, imposing man with eyes as deep as the night sky and hair that flowed like liquid shadow. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his presence radiated an unnatural cold. “I am Marid,” the figure announced, his voice echoing with ancient power. “I have heard your cries. I can grant you what you desire—a child to call your own. But every gift comes with a price.” Sameer stepped in front of Mariam, his protective instincts warring with his disbelief. “What do you want from us?” The Marid smiled, a slow, unsettling curve of his lips. “You shall have a daughter—perhaps even two. But when she reaches the age of eighteen, she will be mine. This is the bargain. Do you accept?” Mariam’s eyes filled with tears. The promise of a child was everything she had ever wanted, but the price was unthinkable. She looked at Sameer, searching his face for guidance. He hesitated, torn between hope and dread. But the longing in Mariam’s eyes was too much to bear. “If this is what it takes,” Sameer said quietly, “then we accept.” The Marid’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “So be it. Remember your promise. When the time comes, do not try to hide her from me.” With that, the Marid vanished, leaving behind a chill that seeped into their bones. The silence returned, but it was no longer comforting. It was the silence of a bargain struck, of a future forever changed. That night, Mariam dreamed of children—of laughter and light, but also of shadows lurking at the edge of every joy. And as dawn broke, she awoke with a strange certainty in her heart: her life would never be the same again.