The Marid pact

The Final Bargain

The evening pressed in heavy and cold, the house thick with dread. The Maulvi’s prayers echoed through Aliyah’s room, the sacred verses swirling around her as she lay convulsing on the bed. Her body arched, limbs trembling violently, eyes rolling back until only the whites showed. Mariam sobbed at her side, clutching Aliyah’s hand, while Sameer and Sarah hovered helplessly nearby.

Suddenly, Sarah could no longer bear to watch her sister suffer. She rushed to the bed and wrapped her arms around Aliyah, holding her tight through the spasms. “I’m here, Aliyah. I’m here,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face.

As Sarah hugged her, Aliyah’s body stilled for a moment. Her lips parted, and a deep, otherworldly voice—neither Aliyah’s nor entirely human—spoke in Sarah’s ear. The words were muffled, almost a hiss, and no one else in the room could hear them. Sarah’s eyes widened as the marid’s voice slithered into her mind, planting a thought so subtle she almost believed it was her own.

Aliyah’s convulsions eased, and for a brief moment, her gaze cleared. Sarah leaned in close, her lips trembling with resolve. “I’m sorry, Aliyah,” she whispered, so softly that only her sister could hear.

The Maulvi finished his prayer, sweat beading on his brow. He looked at Sameer and Mariam, his voice heavy with defeat. “I have done all I can. The marid’s claim is too strong. There is nothing more I can do. Pray for mercy, and hold your family close.”

He left the room, shoulders bowed, leaving the family in a silence broken only by Mariam’s quiet sobs.

That night, the house was eerily quiet. The family, exhausted, drifted to their rooms. Mariam, unable to sleep, wandered the hallway, her heart aching with guilt and fear. She paused outside Sarah’s door, thinking her daughter must be asleep. Quietly, she entered and sat beside Sarah’s still form, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

Mariam bent close and whispered, her voice thick with sorrow, “Sarah, I am so sorry. Your parents were selfish. We never meant for you to lose your sister. If only we could change what we did…”

As she spoke, her eyes fell on a small, familiar mole at the nape of Sarah’s neck—a birthmark only Sarah had. A cold realisation dawned. Mariam’s breath caught in her throat. She shook Sarah gently, but there was no response. Panic rising, she called for Sameer.

Together, they examined Sarah and found a letter clutched in her hand. With trembling fingers, Mariam unfolded it. The message inside was simple, but devastating: “She is mine. I am sorry. I had to save her.”

The truth crashed over them—Sarah had taken Aliyah’s place. The girl who had run to sacrifice herself was not Aliyah, but Sarah. The marid had deceived them all, whispering the idea into Sarah’s ear through Aliyah during the convulsions. The letter was a final goodbye, a confession, and a declaration of love all at once.

The River’s Edge

Far from the house, at the moonlit riverbank, the marid awaited his prize. Sarah approached, her steps steady, her eyes clear with the courage of her choice. The marid, tall and spectral, regarded her with a mixture of triumph and something almost like respect.

“You came willingly,” the marid intoned, his voice echoing across the water.

Sarah nodded, her voice unwavering. “I could not let her go. Take me instead.”

The marid’s eyes glowed, and for a moment, the wind itself seemed to whisper, “It was I who showed you the way, child. You heard me in the darkness, and you answered.”

Sarah did not flinch. She stepped into the river, the cold water swirling around her ankles, then her knees. The marid’s shadow enveloped her, and with a final, gentle sigh, she disappeared beneath the surface, the ripples fading into stillness.

Back at home, Mariam and Sameer wept, holding Aliyah close. The price had been paid, but not as they had feared. The marid had claimed his due, and the family was left to mourn a daughter who had given everything for love.