Chapter 36: Djinns

She had known, deep down, that Kiyan wasn’t the biological father. The hair color at the hospital! Of course… How had she missed it? He had never had anything in common with Eva. She had simply assumed Eva took everything from her mother.

Once again, she had been naïve.

So that question slipped out.

To her own surprise.

Blanche straightened slightly in her seat. Her slender figure was briefly outlined by the passing headlights, revealing pale, almost translucent skin and long dark hair cascading over her shoulders. Her delicate features, still marked by fatigue, were tightened by a restless curiosity. Her eyes—bright, far too perceptive for her age—shifted from one man to the other with unsettling intensity.

"He can’t, " Alacazar replied.

"Al, shut up," Kiyan growled.

Kiyan lounged behind the wheel with studied nonchalance, but his hands betrayed a very real tension. His long, restless fingers gripped the dark leather, his knuckles paling slightly. The road lights slid across his sharply defined features, highlighting the shadow of stubble and the fatigue lurking in his gaze. His deep black hair, slightly tousled, gave him a look that was both wild and controlled.

The interior of the car, spacious and finished in dark tones, exuded understated luxury. The leather gave off a warm scent mixed with the sharper trace of stale tobacco. The slightly tinted windows filtered the night, while a fine rain had begun to trace uneven lines across them.

"You started it, boss, " Al replied with calm irony.

Blanche turned sharply toward the back seat.

The old man was still there. Or rather… he seemed to have always been there.

His presence didn’t occupy space—it bent it. His white robe, embroidered with gold thread, did not move despite the motion of the car. The fabric seemed ancient, almost unreal, as if woven in a forgotten age. His turban, set with a dark emerald, caught the light in a strange way, as though the stone itself breathed.

His dark skin, marked by time, resembled ancient parchment—cracked, yet unbreakable. And his eyes… his eyes shone with a sharp, mocking intelligence, infinitely old.

An ancient djinn.

Not merely a creature.

A memory.

"She’s far too perceptive," Kiyan muttered.

"Naturally, she always has been. But it doesn’t matter anymore now, does it?"

Kiyan grumbled something unintelligible.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, slipped one free with a practiced motion, and lit it. The flare of the lighter briefly illuminated his face, revealing a harder, more closed expression. He took a deep drag, then handed the cigarette back without even looking.

The gesture was precise. Habitual.

Smoke rose in slow, thick spirals, forming arabesques in the confined air of the car. It seemed almost alive, curling around Alacazar’s fingers before dissipating like a mirage.

"Does Eva know you’re her father? " Blanche asked, exasperated at having to twist around with every exchange.

"No."

"But why?!"

"I am a Marid, and her mother was an Ifrit, Al explained calmly. And the law of the djinn forbids our clans from mixing. I had no right to mate with her. I can neither raise nor influence the child until I know which side her powers will lean toward. I entrusted her to the only person I trust."

Blanche ran a hand over her face, overwhelmed.

"Ifrit… Marid…"

The words echoed like fragments of an ancient world, heavy with sand, fire, and forgotten storms.

"Ifrits," Kiyan continued, exhaling slowly," are djinn of malice, tied to earth and fire. Marids are associated with benevolence, water, and the sky. And, like any good story, they cordially hate each other."

“Cordially,” Al repeated with a faint smirk. "That’s an elegant way of saying we’ve been slaughtering each other for millennia."

"And Al is the crown prince of the Marids, Kiyan went on, ignoring him. While Élégance was an Ifrit princess. She died in childbirth. Magic doesn’t like being mixed."

"Oh… "Blanche murmured. "So… she died because she loved someone she wasn’t supposed to? No offense."

" None taken. Call me Al. After all, I’ve known you for a long time… I live with you."

Blanche blinked, unsettled.

"Sorry?"

"Oh, don’t worry, he added with quiet amusement. I’m very discreet. Unlike some people."

He cast Kiyan a pointed look.

" I forbid you from commenting on my private life," Kiyan snapped, frowning.

" Your private life? Please. You’re smoking in a car with a teenage girl and a millennia-old djinn. The concept is… flexible."

Blanche let out a nervous breath.

" Okay… this is a lot."

"On top of everything else? "Al teased.

Kiyan lit a second cigarette, this time for himself. The smoke thickened the air, forming slow spirals that seemed to suspend time.

So? You’re waiting to see which side she falls on, and then what? Blanche asked.

"Then I tell her the truth," Kiyan replied.

"If her powers are like mine, Al added, she will be my daughter and can join me. I will teach her wish magic… the real kind."

"And if not? " Blanche cut in.

"She will join the Ifrits. And be an outcast among them."

"But… she can choose, right? Stay with us?"

Blanche turned to Kiyan, hope filling her eyes.

Hope that died instantly.

" No, Al answered for him. Her powers would be too dangerous for humans. She could kill you without even realizing it."

Silence fell, heavy.

"It’s soon, isn’t it? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here."

"You’re far too smart, " Kiyan muttered.

" I don’t like this at all. And you? You’re really going to let her go? You raised her! She’s your daughter!"

"Of course not! " Kiyan snapped, straightening abruptly. If she wants to stay, she can. But she’ll have to give up her powers. I refuse to put her in danger. Or you.

"So she chooses between her powers… or us? That’s not a choice—that’s an ultimatum."

This time, neither of them answered.

Even Alacazar lost his smile.

Then, without a word, he vanished.

No movement. No trace.

As if he had never been there.

Blanche shivered.

It reminded her of someone else.

"You told me you had lied to me… about what? " she murmured.

"You’ll have to be more specific."

She closed her eyes for a moment.

"If you’re not a djinn… what are you?"

Kiyan turned his head slightly toward her. In the dim light, his gaze seemed older even than Al’s.

"You’ll find out soon."

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

He started the car again. The engine hummed softly, settling back into the silence.

"You don’t tell Eva. Ever."

She nodded.

The rain intensified slightly, tapping against the windshield in a scatter of restless drops. The wipers swept them away in a steady, almost hypnotic rhythm.

The music resumed.

Soft. Melancholic.

Blanche stared at the road.

How was she supposed to keep such a secret?

Kiyan had managed it for years…

But her?

In the turmoil of her heart, one thing remained certain.

Disappointing her best friend would be terrible.

But disappointing the man she loved…

Would be far worse.