“You know what you are,” I tell Kasim. “You know that the creature you’ve become is not right. Is that what you want for Rakan?”
Kasim goes very still. It’s not the stillness from before, the one that signaled righteous anger. It’s something different, almost broken. “You’d go so far?” he whispers.
He isn’t talking to me. Why would he? To him, I’m likely less than a worm. But Rakan is right there, and still holding on to him. “As far as I need to, for her,” he answers.
For the longest time, Kasim doesn’t reply. He turns his head toward me, and his gaze burns into me, filled with hatred. And maybe… Something else? Understanding? Relief?
“You don’t need to make any wishes for what’s already real,” he says at last. “Rakan never lost his brother.”
It’s not true. He knows it. Rakan knows it, and so do I. But for a single, simple moment, it feels like it is.
Kasim’s figure flickers, the fire in his veins burning red again, no longer blue. The lamp in my arms heats up as the wish registers as fulfilled. And a brilliant blaze erupts around Rakan’s hands, so bright it’s almost blinding.
“Make a wish, Iris Beckett!” Kasim yells, and this time, I obey.
I grab his lamp and open my mouth. Nothing comes out. There’s nothing he can give me that I want—nothing except this, at least. A final kindness, for Rakan.
But I can’t make that wish again, so instead, I say, “I wish for a cup of black coffee. To share with Rakan.”
Kasim takes a deep breath, and a simple, perfect cup of coffee appears in front of me on the counter. And then, Rakan’s fire strikes.
I remember how the harpy screamed when Kasim’s fire consumed her flesh. But Kasim doesn’t make a noise. As Rakan’spowers devour him, he just closes his eyes, as if resigned to his fate.
He doesn’t burn away, not like she did. His horns snap in Rakan’s hold, and he starts to glow. The fire grows ever brighter, and suddenly, he simply… dissolves.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he ran or escaped. But Kasim doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to flee from battles. The smoke curls around Rakan, almost as if embracing him. Then, it rushes away from the street, back into the ruined cafe, back toward me.
The detritus of broken tables and displays screams in protest. The ground shakes. But I don’t move, looking at him—at what is left of my lover’s brother.
The smoke doesn’t touch me. It goes straight into the lamp I’m holding. Instantly, I feel the power invading the metal and already recoiling from my touch.
It takes everything in me to not drop the lamp to the floor. Kasim is a murderer, and his transformation into an ifrit completely shattered his sanity. Through the metal, I can feel his fraying mind, his lingering anger and grief. It burns me like a brand.
But this is still a soul and still deserves respect. I set the lamp on the counter with far more care than Kasim would have ever shown me.
And just like that, it’s over. After everything that’s happened, it feels strangely anticlimactic. But Rakan’s brother is gone, and I’m safe. The reality is almost too much to comprehend.
In the distance, sirens have already started to wail, alerted to the destruction. Rakan grimaces and brings a hand to his forehead. He flicks his fingers, and all the damage disappears.
It’s like a miracle, like watching time rewind before my very eyes. The tables re-form, identical to what they were before—down to every stain and chipped edge. The glass comes back together in a dazzling display that’s almost like art. The Daily Grind has never been more beautiful, more alive.
But I only have eyes for the man standing outside the cafe.
When it’s all over, the fire and smoke disappear, and the wards around me finally fall. I rush away from the counter, through the still-open door and toward Rakan. I throw myself at him and wrap my arms around his chest. “Rakan… Is Kasim…?”
“Dead?” Rakan shakes his head against my temple. “No. It’s impossible to kill a djinn. But for now, he’s been reduced to a spirit. And I hope, maybe… He’s at peace.”
That’s probably a little too much to ask. Judging by his tone, Rakan is well aware of that. But it’s better than the alternative, better than my lover selling his soul. Or his brother potentially losing his.
“I’m sorry, Rakan. I know this isn’t what we spoke about, but—”
“This is exactly what we spoke about. You just understood it better than I did.”
I pull away from Rakan’s embrace. Together, we look back toward the cafe.
Kasim’s lamp is still on the counter, right where I left it. And next to it is the cup of coffee Kasim summoned.
Hand in hand, we walk into The Daily Grind, up to the counter. Rakan takes the coffee cup in his hand. He doesn’t drink. Instead, he stares at the dark liquid, as if it holds the answers to the universe.
