Heat of the Djinn

Heart of the Djinn Dream or Destiny Darkness blanketed the room. Only the howling of wind rustling through the thin curtains broke the silence. Yet despite the cold air and creeping night, Raliya awoke drenched in sweat, as if she had been running through fire. She clutched her chest, breath coming in sharp, panicked bursts. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, but her heart kept pounding like a war drum. That dream… it had returned. For the third time in one week. But tonight, it was different. “If you kiss him three times, he will die,” a voice had whispered in the dream. “His heart will stop, and you will be the one to cause it.” King Zayyan. A name she'd never heard in real life, yet it echoed in her mind like thunder. His face — regal, almost carved from gold — was seared into her memory like a brand. She reached up and wiped the sweat from her brow, her fingers brushing against the silver ring on her finger — the one her mother had left her before she passed. The same ring she had warned Raliya never to remove. “Until the light and the dark become one,” her mother had said. Raliya sat up, her voice a shaky whisper. “That time is near... I can feel it.” Later that morning… The village of Arawa buzzed louder than usual. The market square, always lively, was filled with murmurs and gasps. The king’s envoy is here!” They’re looking for someone!” A golden royal carriage stood in the center of the village, guarded by armored men. A tall figure stepped out — a man draped in deep green robes, eyes sharp with knowledge. “I am High Advisor Yalwa, speaking on behalf of His Majesty, King Zayyan” he announced. “I seek a young woman named Raliya.” The crowd turned to stare. Raliya’s heart sank. “The king has been haunted by dreams,” Yalwa continued. “He believes only you can interpret them.” Inside the palace… The royal city of Zabira was unlike anything Raliya had imagined. Gold pillars stretched toward the heavens, sweet-scented gardens bloomed in every courtyard, and soldiers patrolled in silence. But nothing stole her breath quite like King Zayyan himself He sat on his throne, draped in white with a dark cloak falling across his shoulders like night itself. His eyes — deep, endless — locked onto hers the moment she entered. “I’ve seen you in my dreams,” he said. “I’ve seen you too,” she replied, before she could stop herself. And in that moment, something shifted. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t just curiosity. It was fate.