Zaynah awoke to a hissing sound. She didn't bother to open her eyes. She knew the hissing would be followed by the voice, and she knew even if she opened her eyes to seek the source of the voice, there would be no body attached to it.

The voice would tell her what to do when she understood it. She had understood it once, on that ill-fated night at the dig site when she had discovered the jar. She had heard the orders and had been obedient to the voice's command.  

It was probably just as well the shadow had forced the first sacrifice. If she had known the guard was her cousin Asim, she would never have gone through with it. She still wished deep down that he had never filled in for another guard that day, that Asim still lived. But she couldn't bring Asim back, and at least he had died for a cause greater than any one life. She now knew that it had been a necessary sacrifice, though it hadn't seemed so at the time. There had been so many sacrifices since.

That was the biggest reason not understanding the voice was so frustrating. She had understood the language once, so she knew she had the ability. Since then the voice had only spoken gibberish. She did the best she could under the circumstances, creating her creatures, gathering for what was coming. But she knew she could be so much more potent if she knew what the voice was saying. She sensed the voice had much to teach her.

Zaynah slipped her hand beneath her tunic and felt the welts crisscrossing her back. She didn't need to keep them anymore, not after she had merged with the shadow and gained her powers. She could have removed the scars and made her back as smooth and unblemished as the rest of her skin, but she didn't want to. 

She kept them as a reminder of what she had once been, and as a reminder of what she must never become again. Weak.

She thought back with shame to that day two years before, and of what she had been too weak to prevent.

* * *

Zaynah pulled her veil tightly around her face. She stared up at the house located in Zamalek, the wealthiest district of Cairo. It was a far cry from most of the houses in the village she had been raised in. These homes were all show pieces to rub in the faces of the poor, as were the expensive restaurants, and the fancy gardens she had glimpsed behind wrought iron gates. This home was one of the largest of the lot, a white giant with no less than three floors and ten balconies. It was ostentatious. That was the word she was searching for.

She couldn't imagine what her father was doing in such a fancy place. Perhaps he drove their cars or tended their gardens. 

She pushed the doorbell. A heavyset woman wearing a starched dress opened the door. 

"Can I help you?" she asked, eyeing her suspiciously. Zaynah smoothed her worn robes self-consciously.

"I would like to speak to Elias Gamil," she said.

"He is away on business. Perhaps you can give a message to his wife."

 Zaynah blinked hard. 

"There must be some mistake," she stammered. "Maybe it is the wrong Elias Gamil."

"Then I can't help you," the housekeeper said.

"Who is it?" a sweet voice asked. Zaynah had looked behind the maid to see a pretty woman with immaculate makeup wearing a pink silk hijab and tunic set. 

"No one. Just a girl who mistook your husband for another," the housekeeper said as she closed the door.

Zaynah sagged against the door in disappointment. She'd been so sure she had found him this time. The woman at the marketplace that she had shown the picture to had been positive he lived here. She had been so hoping she had finally found him. He needed to know how ill her mother was. She still couldn't understand why he hadn't written or returned home.

As she had turned to walk away, a shiny black car drove up the driveway. The driver got out, and though she knew it wouldn't be him, she couldn't resist taking a peek. She had to be sure. 

It wasn't him.

The driver opened the back door, and a tall, well-muscled man in pristine robes stepped out. Zaynah had been about to avert her face when she noticed something familiar about him.

"Baba?" she said, not understanding.

He stopped short, staring at her in shock.

"Zaynah?" 

"It's me, Baba! I can't believe I found you. I need to tell you ... where are we going?"

He had grabbed her shoulder roughly and pulled her into the barn where the horses were kept. She could smell the sweet scent of fresh hay and the sound of horses whinnying in the stalls.

"What," she had started to say, but he slapped a tight hand over her mouth. She stared at him utterly perplexed. What was he doing?

"If I remove my hand, you will keep your voice down. Do you understand?" her father said sternly. She nodded.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Mother is very ill. She needs medicine, but she has no money to buy it. She needs to get better so she can work. I try, but I can't work as fast as her. 

Her father was shaking his head.

"Baba, what are you doing here?"

"Things are complicated."

A horrifying realization washed over her.

 "You live here, don't you? You dress so fine. That woman in there, did you marry her?"

"Zaynah, you must understand. Sometimes we must do things to survive."

"You married her, didn't you?

"Yes we are married. Must I remind you that it's legal?"

"Just because it's legal doesn't make it right. How could you? Do you love her?" 

He looked slightly ashamed.

"Zaynah, there are some things you don't understand. I will send money when I can."

"You promised that years ago, but you never sent anything. You talk about surviving? Here you were, living in luxury while we were barely living. I quit school to help mother. I quit so Sayed didn't have to. How could you sleep at night in your fancy bed, knowing your family was relying on you?" she said.

"She doesn't know about you," he said. "I couldn't leave or it would raise suspicions."

"So why didn't you, oh, I see. She owns you, doesn't she? She's the one with the money, and if she finds out you already have a family, you lose your money." 

He slammed Zaynah against a stall. 

"I will remind you that I am your father, and you will respect me."

"Let go of me."

 "I see that in my absence you have grown wild and out of control."

"Maybe if you had been around more..."

"I couldn't find work," he said through gritted teeth. 

"So we are no longer your children? Maybe I should go in there and tell her. Maybe she needs to know what a fraud you are. She needs to know you left your children, and that you aren't man enough to take care of your sick and dying wife," she said, her voice dripping with scorn.

He slammed her against the stall again.

 Zaynah spit in his face.

 In a fury, he had pulled a riding crop off the wall. He opened an empty stall, pulled off her robe and shoved her. She fell to her knees, scraping them and her hands on the rough straw. Then she felt the lashes at her back as they ripped through her tunic. It was like fire slicing through her skin, over and over.  

She tried to scramble away, but he dragged her back and continued to beat her. She could barely think under the rain of pelts that made her vision hazy. All she saw was red. She wasn't strong enough. She went limp. She knew from the beatings she had received at his hand growing up that submitting was the only way to end this.

But the blows kept coming, ripping into her back over and over until finally, they stopped. She was swimming in and out of consciousness. 

"I wish you didn't make me do this," he said, dropping the robe over her bloodied back. "Cover up. You will leave and never come back. I will send what I can."  

Her father started to walk away, but turned back. She cringed. Maybe he would finish her off. Instead, he dropped money. It fell lazily near her face.

"Buy your mother some medicine," he said, then left.

* * *

 Zaynah's mind returned to the present. She sighed and rolled onto her other side. The hiss had become the voice now, repeating those same words over and over.

When she had finally regained her strength, she had dragged her broken body home. She bought the medicine for her mother, but it was too little, too late. She needed a doctor but had no money for one, so she had planned to steal the artifacts to pay for one. But when she finally revived from her merging with the shadow, it was too late. Her mother was dead. 

The night after she came home her brother Sayed ran away. He had been afraid of her. She didn't understand why. She hadn't seen him since. She hoped someday she could find him, fix this misunderstanding.

After the change, she had been afraid at first too, afraid because she didn't understand, but the voice had changed her, made her harder, stronger. She would never be weak again. If only...

Zaynah's eyes bolted open in astonishment and excitement flooded her. 

She understood the voice, as clearly as if it had been speaking in her own language! She sensed that the voice was not speaking in her language. It was not the language that had changed, but her.

"Where is the body?" the voice whispered. It paused for a few seconds, then repeated again.

"Where is the body?"

She listened carefully to each syllable, then opened her mouth and spoke for the first time in the unknown language.

"How do I make him pay for my mother's death?"

 _____________

If you feel tempted to punch Zaynah's father, hit that little star!

Any thoughts on the mysterious unknown language?

So the dedication this time goes to a wonderful writer and good friend here on Wattpad - @MoonZephyr. I have been thoroughly delighted by her book Anni Moon & the Elemental Artifact. You can check it out by clicking on the dedication link above.