Chapter 1: The Glowing Ruby
The crescent moon hung low over the desert city of Zafira, its pale light painting silver edges on domed rooftops and the worn bricks of the bazaar. The day’s noise had faded, leaving only the whispers of wind that danced through empty streets, stirring dust and forgotten prayers.
In the hush of night, a shadow moved with purpose.
Lina, a girl of fifteen with sand-brown skin and coal-black eyes, slipped between abandoned spice stalls like a breeze. Her bare feet made no sound. Her cloak, once crimson but now faded to rust, billowed lightly behind her as she ducked beneath hanging rugs and leaned against a column, watching.
She was a thief, but not by choice. In Zafira, orphan girls had only two options: beg... or steal. Lina chose the one that let her keep her pride. Her stomach grumbled, but her eyes were fixed on something stranger than food tonight.
At the far end of the bazaar stood a tattered tent no one ever entered. It smelled of burning incense and old secrets. For nights now, Lina had felt drawn to it—like the wind whispered her name every time she passed.
Tonight, she gave in.
> “If you get caught, Lina, they’ll cut off your hand,” she whispered to herself. “So don’t get caught.”
The tent flap hung low, stitched with faded golden thread in patterns she didn’t recognize. As she stepped inside, a wave of heat passed over her, thick with the scent of saffron, smoke, and ancient things long buried.
Inside, the tent was dark—too dark for such a small space. In the center sat a black wooden chest bound in brass, shaped like a serpent coiled around its treasure. Its eyes—ruby red—seemed to shimmer as she approached.
She hesitated only for a breath, then touched the lid. The lock clicked open on its own.
Inside, nestled in silk, was a large glowing ruby—deep red and pulsing like a heartbeat.
> “This could buy me a life,” she whispered. “A real one.”
But the moment her fingers wrapped around it, the ruby grew hot. The silk caught fire, though it did not burn her. The air cracked like lightning. She stumbled backward as red mist exploded from the gem.
Out of the mist rose a figure—tall, spectral, with eyes like twin stars and chains wound tightly around his limbs. A genie.
> “WHO DARES TOUCH THE STONE OF BINDING?” the voice boomed, shaking the tent’s walls.
Lina fell, her heart thudding.
> “I—I didn’t know! I didn’t mean to—!”
The genie studied her in silence. Then his voice dropped, quiet and cold.
> “I am Rumi, the Cursed. You are now my master… and my jailer.”
> “Wait… master?” Lina whispered.
> “I do not grant wishes. I steal them. Unless the curse is broken within seven nights, you will share my fate.”
The ruby throbbed in her palm. Lina, the sand thief, had stolen many things—but this time, she might’ve stolen her own doom.
> “Well,” she said shakily, “looks like I just became part of a story.”
And in the distance, something ancient awakened beneath the sands.
