Lydia knew that her body slept in a bed under satin sheets. Her conscious soul, however, walked in the astral world's darkness. She had hoped to avoid the lucid dream, but her consciousness searched for answers to something outside the material world. She walked down winding stairs deep into what she believed was the mouth of a pit. She had been there the night before and the night before that. Each night, she traveled further.

One night, she reached the last stair. In front of her was a scarlet glow – a flickering light. Candlelight? No, too bright. Torchlight? She walked gingerly and sometimes stumbled over the uneven ground. She was sure that her feet bled from the sharp edges of the stone path. The darkness heightened her senses, but her footing was uncertain. She did not know when she'd stumble again or stub her toe. But she moved forward, finding a wall with her hand. The wall gave her a sense of direction. The bright torchlight was nearby. 

When she reached the end of the path, she noticed that the torchlight had entered the dark cave through a barred window. Lydia grabbed the bars with both hands and peered inside at a stone altar. Torches burned on either side of the altar. Behind the alter, on the wall, was a sigil of circles and intercepting lines. Lydia had seen the sigil before, although she could not remember if in a book or a parchmentnt. She recognized the sigil belonged to a djinni – Ha'arashi.

Something was moving on the stone slab of the altar. Intuition warned that the tiny legs kicking forward belonged to a child. Lydia touched her belly and pressed her palms against it. She expected to feel its roundness, but her stomach was flat. How was she no longer pregnant? Bewildered, Lydia continued staring at the baby, somehow knowing but wanting to convince herself that it was not her child.

A voice like a dozen whispers spoke from behind her. “Ah, but it is your baby.”

Lydia sensed the warmth of a djinni. “Who are you?”

“To those who seek my help, I am Kinovah.” The horned djinni leaned forward. The heat from her leather skin warmed Lidia's ear. “This is your child's future.”

Lydia wanted to read the djinni's mind. She had once been good at doing so, but no longer. She was curious to learn if the djinni knew as much. The djinni gave her no time to discover.

“I can save her.”

Lydia turned to see the djinni at her side. “From what? Who did this?”

She was oblivious to what caused the bright light that filled the tunnel, but the djinni's ice-blue eyes and leather skin disappeared into the light. 

Neither startled nor relieved, Lydia woke and threw her legs over the edge of the bed. She sat, looking straight ahead, and rubbed her belly. Her child was still there. She expected as much, but she wanted to know more about her lucid dream. Is my baby in danger? The mattress moved from her husband shifting. Soon his hand was on the small of her back. The light touch comforted her.  

“Did it happen again?”

“Yes,” she admitted, relieved that he needed no explanation. “This time, I got a name.”

He rubbed her back to the shoulder blades. “Good. Be sure to tell Mumar.” 

Mumar, a student of supernatural phenomena, usually had all the answers. He visited Lydia in the exercise room to instruct her on yoga. They sat across from each other. With folded legs, Lydia flipped through a sketchbook in her lap. In the sketchbook were sigils Mumar had copied from hundreds of sources.  

“Did you find it?” Mumar noticed the long pause between turning pages.  

Lydia shook her head but held her stare at a sigil. She made note of the displaced Urdu letters, half-circles, and curved lines. She read the description at the bottom of the page: the words protector of the unborn held her attention. The name at the top read “Erzulie.” 

Mumar interrupted her thoughts. “Don't stare too long. Those images could imprint on your mind.”

Lydia snorted and turned the page. “You sketched all these from memory. Isn't your mind imprinted?” 

“Yes, but I am trained. Ok, let me see what has your attention.” He accepted the book from her. 

Lydia nodded. “That's the sigil I saw in my dream. You have a different name from what I remembered.”

Mumar studied the sketch. “You were correct to guess Ha'arashi. She goes by many names – most djinn do. Ha'arashi also goes by Lamashtu. I believe it is her true name.”

“Why so many names?”

“It's their way of limiting our control of them. It’s tough to summon a djinni without knowing its name. It’s impossible to control them. You need their true names for that.”

“What does she want with my baby?” Lydia stretched an arm across her chest.

“Nothing good, I'm sure. She is a jann. Most janns follow the Lemurian code. Not her. She follows the Atlantean doctrine.”

“She wants human extinction?”

“Her relationship with Lilith is uncertain, but the ancients knew her as a thief and a baby killer. Much like Lilith and Gello.”

Lydia's mouth gaped. She remembered her youth and the horror stories the elders had told about Gello.

“Don't worry. The spirits cannot kill anyone.”

“But she may drive others to do so. She may cause my husband to drop my baby or the nanny to drown her in the bath.” She reached for Mumar's hand. “What about Kinovah? She was there.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was there. She spoke to me.”

Mumar stood, walked behind her, and stretched her arms. “I don't know anything about Kinovah. I will have to research her. How did she appear to you?”

“I did not see her well.”

“I say stick to the rules. Do not make agreements with anything in the astral world. We will deal with Lamashtu in our way.”

“What about Erzulie? Her sigil is in your book.”

Mumar reached to stretch the other arm. “No. Leave her where she is.”

“Does she endorse the Atlantean doctrine?”

“I don't believe so. My best guess is that Erzulie supports neither the Atlantean nor the Lemurian ideals.”

“Then she is safe?”

“I did not say that.” He exhaled. “Lydia, please do not seek out Erzulie Freda. The spirits do not think as we do. You have to be careful, very careful. And now, with your ability gone, you are vulnerable to them.”

Lydia continued to stretch with Mumar. He told her that stretching made labor easier for the child. Although Mumar advised her not to stare at the sigil, Lydia wanted to remember it. She surmised that she could draw the sigil on a wall or the ground if she revisited the astral world. If she did, the djinni represented by the sigil would appear. Melancholy crept into her. “I used to hate the gabamnoteh living inside me.” Her voice was regretful. “Now I wish I had it, just to know what these devils want with my baby.”

She moved to a table position, and upon Mumar's command, she arched her back.

“Good. Now hold it.”

“Do you think it's in my baby?”

“I am certain of that.” Mumar looked into Lydia's gray eyes. “That's how it works. It was with you from birth, and now it has moved on.”

Lydia became still and lowered her head. Tears filled her eyes as she remembered how frightening it was to feel what others felt. Lydia remembered waking at night startled by the voices in her head. She dreaded knowing the child she carried would endure the same torture – unable to differentiate between her thoughts and those of the people at the dinner table.  Lydia despised the gabamnoteh that gave her such ability, while others said it was a gift. Now that it had left her, Lydia regretted passing it to her unborn child. She remembered stories about an ancestor trying to drink himself into the grave rather than procreating. He failed, and now Lydia had failed too. 

She finished her stretching exercises in silence. All the while, her thoughts were on her child. She had already decided on a name, but Mumar admonished her not to say it until the child was born. Lydia knew the rules. Djinn could do sinister things to a weak mind if they knew the name. Although they could not physically move material objects, they succeeded in causing harm to men through fear and illusions. As she stretched, Lydia promised herself fear would not force her into action. When it came to djinn tricks and illusions, Lydia hoped to see through them. 

In the dream world, it was difficult to see through illusions. Lydia found it challenging to know when she dreamt or when her soul ventured into the astral world. That night, Lydia struggled to differentiate between them. When she became aware of herself, Lydia stood at the top of the winding staircase again. She touched her belly. It was flat. “My baby is down there,” she mumbled. Reluctantly, Lydia descended into the cold darkness.

As she neared the bottom, something moved. It wasn't a djinni; it was – a baby. My baby? Lydia quickened her pace to the rocky floor. A pale aura surrounded the child. Judging by her size, the girl was no older than a year. The baby should have just started walking, yet she ran. As if knowing her mother had reached the bottom of the stairs, the baby turned to face Lydia. The child’s eyes were as gray as Lydia's, and her hair curled just as loosely as Lydia's. Her skin color gave away her Egyptian ancestry.  

“Mommy.” Innocence saturated her voice. 

Lydia stepped forward, and the baby ran away laughing. Lydia followed, amazed at the child's speed. “Wait,” she called. The baby laughed playfully. Lydia pursued. The path ended at a riverbank. The water shimmered like blue glitter. Across from it stretched an orange sky where winged creatures flew between mountain peaks. The baby stopped to look at the water. She moved to it but stopped shy of touching the water when Lydia cried out. “Don’t”

The child turned. Her smile had melted away, and her eyes revealed innocent bewilderment. Lydia's concern transformed into terror when a hinn crawled from the water. Its head was flat like a crocodile’s, yet it had human hands and moved on its belly.

“Come to Mommy.” Lydia feigned a calm demeanor. 

The baby did not move.

A second hinn inched from the water. Lydia tried to remember the nature of the hinn race. They were a species of djinn, often assuming animal shapes. She could not remember if they were harmful to children. It did not matter. In the astral world, every djinni was dangerous. She tried to convince herself, but the statement was not valid. There was Erzulie.

The part human, part amphibious shaped creatures moved toward the child.  

“Fio—” Lydia caught herself; she had almost called the child by name. 

At that moment, the baby seemed to notice the beasts circling her. There were three now. Fiona whimpered, her fears visible. Lydia ran forward, but the fiery breath of one creature stopped her pursuit. The terrorized baby screamed. Instinctively, Lydia rushed forward, but more flames from the beast’s open mouth were more threatening. She retreated a step and stumbled over a stone. Confused about how to save her child, Lydia searched the ground for a weapon, stick, stone – anything. The screaming cries would have driven her insane if she had not remembered Erzulie's sigil. Reaching for the loose stone that had tripped her, Lydia knelt to carve the sigil. The ground was hard to her feet, but under the command of the rock, it was as soft as sand. Fiona's cry became muffled as Lydia sketched the lines. Each line became lively, with energy formed as dim light. It was as if the ground wanted to help her.

Lydia’s ever-sharpening senses warned that she was not alone. She glanced up and behind her only to see darkness in each direction. With no warning, the light breeze became a forceful zephyr, and the lines she drew disappeared. The first things that Lydia saw were Kinovah's pair of razor-sharp talons an arm's length away. 

Lydia sprang to her feet, Kinovah towering over her. Like most of the jann race, Kinovah had a human form. Scarlet hair fell over her shoulders but did not hide the horns on her head. Lydia turned away from the djinni's ice-blue eyes in fear of her hypnotic power, familiar to most jann. 

“There is no need to summon Erzulie Freda. I can save the child.”

“At what cost?”

Kinovah approached. Her sharp, sunken, angled cheeks and pointed chin emphasized her inhumanness. “I'd ask you to retrieve the Kritaria's net. It lacks importance, but for sentimental reasons, I want it.”

Lydia retreated a step. “What is it?”

“It is a net, nothing more. The spell placed on its hiding spot needs a special touch from a child of Adamu. You, a daughter of Adamu, will suffice.”

“Where is it?”

“There.” She pointed to a hill south of the river. “You will see four houses there – one red, one yellow, one orange, and one green. Inside each of them is a box containing a stone. You must place each stone in its matching box, and the spell will break.”

“Why can't you do it?”

The spark in Kinovah's blue eyes dulled. Lydia thought it was a sign of regret. “I cannot break spells made by angels. Hahaiah, the one who cursed the stones is too powerful for me. Only a child of Adamu can break the spell.”

The djinni started to say more, but an interruption in the form of a shining light came from behind Lydia. Kinovah retreated two steps and mumbled her displeasure like a disgruntled teen. The jann walked toward the water and vanished, leaving a thin, shimmering scar of air where she had once stood. 

Lydia turned toward the light. Her hands, as if by their volition, moved to her belly. It was swollen again. Two figures formed silhouettes in the light. A pair of wings lowered and folded behind one silhouette. A jade whip stretched from her hands and curled at her feet. Beside her, the second figure stepped closer, revealing a silk hood covering her head. She stared at Lydia with radiant eyes. Lydia wanted to retreat, but their subtleties projected a calming vibration. Had they come to help? Did they chase away Kinovah? As the light dimmed behind them, so did their appearance. Lydia wanted nothing more than to find the stairs and retreat to the bed where her physical body lay. She stepped forward but stopped at the sight of an illuminated sigil at her feet. It was a completed Erzulie Freda's sigil where Lydia had tried to sketch it. 

Lydia was too bewildered to move forward. Had she seen Erzulie Freda? Was it her companion, Palden, with the whip? Did they chase away Kinovah? Lydia doubted Kinovah was dangerous. She offered to help in exchange for something. All djinn did as much. She did not know Erzulie Freda's motivation or the djinni beside her. Perhaps it was best to stay clear of them.

Lydia did not want to walk where the two spirits stood. Instead, she resolved to find another way to the material world. Before deciding on a direction, Lydia heard a calming, familiar voice. It sounded like Mumar was calling her.

Turning toward the sound, Lydia noticed a suspended light bobbing and fluttering like a balloon on a string. The voice came from the light. Puzzled, Lydia walked toward it. When she reached out to touch it, the light brightened. She sensed something warm on her face and realized she was home, lying in bed. The sunlight fell through the window onto her face. 

Lydia sat up. The headboard supported her back as she pushed the sheets away. She was alone in bed. The clock on the nightstand read noon. How could she have slept so long? She felt Fiona moving; was she angry? Someone knocked on the door.

“Come in.” She hoped her appearance did not betray the turmoil in her mind.

Mumar entered the room. He carried a cup of tea and two pieces of gourmet chocolate. He studied her as if she was a mouse in a lab. Then he offered the cup and saucer. Lydia accepted. Tears swelled in her eyes. “Mumar?”

He lifted a finger to stop her from speaking. “You don't have to explain.”

“I'm so scared,” she cried. 

Her thoughts began to crash in on her. Mumar seemed to understand. Lydia believed he was the only one who could. He sat on the edge of the bed. “You must not give in to the fear. The scrolls warn us of a war between men, djinn, and angels. I believe we are getting closer to it.” 

He brushed her hair away from her face. She sniffled. 

Mumar cleared his throat. “If only we had the missing scroll, I would know more. But I am certain that the soul of Yaron wants to resurface. The gabamnoteh inside you – now inside your daughter – wants to help.”

Lydia gathered her senses and sipped the tea. “Help how?”

“When Yaron lived, he was a Nephilim – part human, part djinn. Upon his death, the pieces of his soul were hidden inside people.”

“The gabamnoteh,” she muttered, and her gaze dropped. “I've heard it all before, many times over. The angels would not murder innocent people, so djinn planted gabamnoteh in them. I was lucky to have one, right?”

“Yes, of course.” Mumar stood and walked to the center of the room. “I know you didn't always feel so lucky.” 

Lydia’s gaze followed him; she was enthralled. 

“Yaron had two companions, twin spirits, Idoth and Kabeir. Your grandfather dreamt about the ceremony where those souls were split. A piece of Idoth lives in your daughter. We are certain of that. We also know Idoth wants to find her brother. But she also wants to find Yaron's soul fragments.”

“To what end?” Lydia touched her belly. The baby moved robustly. 

“To resurrect the Nephilim.”

Lydia shook her head. “I will not allow it.” She shifted her glare away from Mumar to the window. “I want my baby to be safe.”  Desperate anger filled her voice. “I won’t surrender her freedom of choice to the will of an ancient spirit - whole or fragmented.” 

Mumar walked to the window and looked out of it. “You know that I am on your side.”

“I never asked for this,” she mumbled, fighting off the sobs. “I never wanted this.”

Mumar nodded. “I know. Together, we can make it all right. We are human beings. We are the rightful rulers of this earth, this material world. The djinn are to do what we command. I respect that you never wanted involvement, but we can teach your daughter how to command them.”

Lydia's resolve did not change. She hoped Mumar would not perseverate on what she called Yaron Pantheism. She stared into the cup of tea and wished he’d not bore her with how the Nephilim’s resurrection would bring men and djinn into beneficial harmony. She resented the expectations placed on her. Now she understood why her grandfather, born with the same curse, had isolated himself from others. She wanted to do the same but would need to leave the mansion. Her brothers Gregory and Daniel ran the estate as they saw fit. They would never allow her to escape. She looked at Mumar while he spoke but barely heard his words. He was a sworn member of the Enlightened Titans brotherhood. That meant Lydia could never completely trust him. Lydia knew the brotherhood renewed its commitment to the Nephilim rhetoric with each newborn of her family line. The brotherhood sought a role in Yaron's resurrection. Each child born with the gray-eyed sign of the gabamnoteh inspired the brotherhood.

Lydia resolved to deal with the problem without Mumar's help. She was determined to confront the djinni who wanted to harm her unborn child. Lydia had never patronized occult study, opting for some attempt to live a normal life. She had nonetheless learned a few things.

The family library was the perfect place to find the answers. Nearly a thousand years of literature awaited her. From the book of definitions, she reviewed the races of djinn. First, she read about the asura race of three-headed creatures who opposed the angels. Then the anthousai race of tiny olive-colored winged beings. They helped angels protect floral beauty. As interesting as the anthousai were, Lydia came to learn about the jann race. By the description, Kinovah was a jann: tall, wingless, with blue eyes and leathery skin.

She remembered Mumar said Kinovah was part of the Atlantean cult. Placing a bookmark in place, Lydia reached for the second book. It was large and heavy. The pages had lost their white colors but not their value. Lydia studied the sketching of Iblis, the Atlantean cult leader. The cult disdained humanity, and the sketch of Iblis’ snarl embodied his disdain. Kinovah did not seem hateful; perhaps Mumar was wrong. Lydia contemplated her interactions as she flipped the pages. She stopped at the sketch of Agaliarept, the Lemurian cult founder. They had no less disdain for the children of Adam. But they’re not after human extinction. Lydia told herself.

The more she scanned Lemurian beliefs and actions, the more Kinovah matched the traits. She posed no threat on the surface. She promised safety for the unborn baby. That doesn’t sound like an Atlantean. Lydia remembered Kinovah wanted something.

She scanned over more information. The Watchers betrayed angelic trust. The Watchers were bound in the ice cells of Tartarus. She stopped scanning when she reached a section labeled the Luminosity cult. People seldom spoke of their faith. The sketch catching her gaze was of a djinni named Sephandor. It was a handsome drawing. Lydia wondered if the glow in the djinni’s eyes was as elaborate as the image’s. Something in the text stood out to her as if it wanted to be read.

But Sephandor, the traitor, stole Kritaria's net and used it to capture an Amatrix Angel. His experiments on abstracting angelic life-force energy aided in the creation of Torkhalsi.

She went to the first book and searched.

Torkhalsi: A demonic weapon that destroys souls. It was used to destroy the angel Dophiel. Seized by King Jedidiah of Israel, the king gave it to Pyro to hide. Then, the wise king cursed the djinni, causing memory loss and thus hiding the weapon forever. 

She flipped more pages until she found Kritaria's net. She read. Created by the Hailasai djinni Kritaria and given to King Jedidiah of Israel to suppress rebellious djinn. 

She turned more pages. Kritaria, loyal assistant to Hahaiah, the angel of the Shem haMephorash.

Lydia leaned back in her chair and tried to piece together what she had learned. Kinovah’s motives were not clear. What will she do with the net? If it once captured djinn and angels, did Kinovah wish to destroy it? What if she wanted to use it? 

Lydia sighed. If she wanted to use it, that problem belonged to someone else. Her decision was final. She wanted to visit the astral world immediately. The sooner she did, the faster she could appease the djinni and have peace. 

The occult experts and avowed members of the Enlightened Titans had created a meditation room not far from the library. Some used it for evocations and projected their astral bodies. Lydia entered the room. It had been two years since she had visited the meditation room. Even with all the changes, the glass case of stones and gems had not moved from the southwest corner. She didn't know if a stone was necessary, but she took the fluorite for its ability to enhance focus. She passed the glyphs on the floor. Someone had left candles partly used around the circle of protection. She lit them and stepped inside the circle. It had been a decade since she purposely projected herself; surprisingly, she had not forgotten how. 

She entered the circle, crossed her legs, and calmed her breathing. What she needed to see could not be seen with material eyes, so she closed them and stretched her consciousness into the astral world. When her vision was clear, she stepped from a cloud of darkness and saw the winding staircase. Her steps were quick and purposeful. She found footing as if her feet knew where the dips and inclines hid. The path brightened before her as if the world sensed her resolve and bent to her need for light. When she reached the river, Kinovah looked out over it, her back to Lydia.

 “You have returned of your free will?” Kinovah continued staring ahead.

“I will bring you the net,” Lydia promised. “Then you agree to keep Ha'arashi and any of her minions away.”

The djinni turned and grinned deviously. “I agree. But only if you do so before dawn.”

Without another word, Lydia departed. She found the hill; a brick path led to the top. Lydia was ten steps up the incline when a light appeared behind her. Afraid Erzulie Freda had come to interfere, Lydia turned to the light. Having a dim, gray hue, it was not as bright as before. Inside was a human figure, and through the door of light stepped a man.

“Sunflower,” he called to her before she saw his features. It looked like an older version of Mumar. Lydia suspected some foul play – a trick by Kinovah, but only Mumar ever called her Sunflower.

 “Mu—”

“No,” he stopped her. “Do not say that name in this world. If you must, I am Eugene.” 

Startled, Lydia stared befuddled as he approached. “How did you find me?”

“The fluorite in your hand leaves a signal. More importantly. Why are you here?”

“The djinni will keep Ha'arashi away if I bring something to her.”

Mumar moved closer to her. He growled, “I warned you against this. It is a trick.”

“I'm going.” Lydia backed away from him. “If you've come to help me, then get on with it.”

“As always, I am here for you.” Mumar followed her to the top of the hill. The houses were there – shaped more like huts and shacks than what she had expected. There was a red, yellow, and orange, but no green house. The fourth house was transparent. Lydia recalled the djinni's words had specifically mentioned a green house, not a glass one. Now she agreed with Mumar; she had walked into a trick. 

The yellow house was the closest; it had a doorway but no door. Mumar prevented her from entering. “I'll go first.” 

Lydia waited for his welcome, then joined him. A silver mist floated in the one-room structure. Mumar swore it was harmless. “It's a signal.” He walked deeper into the room. “It works like a spider's web. When the mist is disturbed, something learns of our presence. We should move quickly.”

Finding a ring-box-sized object in the corner of an empty room did not take long. Mumar opened it. Lydia, peering over his shoulder, saw the orange gem inside. “We have to put this inside the orange house.”

She barely spoke when Mumar raced past her, out of the hut and to the orange shack. Lydia followed. It was a straw structure, smaller than the yellow one, but the mist inside was denser. Still, Mumar found the box. Lydia entered the hut as he opened it. The gem inside was green. He ran outside and stood in the center of the four structures. 

“There is no green house.” Lydia's voice betrayed her fears. 

“Stay calm.” Mumar waved at her. He looked left and then right. Next, he ran to each side of the hill and looked over them. 

Lydia watched him contemplate. She was sure that bargaining with the djinni was a mistake. As for dawn, when would it arrive? How could she know morning from night in this world? No matter the time of day, the dark sky and rust-tinted horizon were always the same. Was that the djinni's scheme? Perhaps there was no dawn in the astral world. She glanced at the yellow house. The mist remained visible. What signal had they sent disturbing the vapor? Lydia's legs weakened and then buckled. She dropped to a knee and then sat. 

When Mumar returned to her, he spoke firmly. “When you misuse your energy, the astral body loses strength.”

She gazed at him. He was right, of course. Her fear and concern had drained her strength.

“You may not give up – don’t quit on me. Your baby's life depends on your resolve.” He reached for her and waited for Lydia to take his hand. “Draw your strength from your willpower. Courage takes less energy than fear.”

His words struck something in her. She had a baby to save. “Okay.”  Lydia climbed to her feet and peered at the glass house. She approached, wondering if the green house might have been inside the glass house? As Lydia approached, she peered through the glass at what looked like houseplants. She almost called Mumar's name. “This is the greenhouse.” 

Mumar joined her. “Of course.”

She ran ahead of him. When she entered, something shot past her and bounced off the glass wall with a clang. Lydia looked ahead and then to the right – the thin mist did not hide the aggressive plants throwing darts. Mumar yelled for her not to move. The plants must have been sensitive to movement. The box rested on a stand in the center of the room. Three such plants triangled the stand – their blossomed flowers lifted like a dog's ears waiting for her movement. She did not turn to see what Mumar had done, but when streams of fire passed her on either side, Lydia knew Mumar had summoned magic. The plants drooped under the scorching flames. Lydia hesitated. 

“Go!” Mumar encouraged. 

Lydia raced for the box and found the red stone. 

Mumar replaced the stone with the green gem. The sides of the box flashed with fluorescent light. The flashing synchronized with a second box at the bottom of the podium. Lydia reached for it and looked through the mesh sides. “It's empty.”

“Come,” Mumar walked away. “We have to replace the other stones.” 

Lydia followed and nearly bumped into him when he stopped abruptly. He held up a finger as if a thought had come to him. Then Mumar turned to her. “Hahaiah's trial,” he said to her. “This is a trap.”

Lydia turned to see behind her. Then she looked around, turning her head quickly from one direction to the next. She even checked the sky. 

“If we fail to place the stones in the correct order, we will unleash the protector of that box.” He returned to the greenhouse. Lydia followed him to the door and watched him remove the green gem. He rushed past her. “We must do the red one first.” He went to the red house and continued to speak. “Then the orange, the yellow, and the green. Everything follows a pattern. This is the pattern of the rainbow colors.”

He ran into the red house. Lydia did not follow. When he exited, he proceeded to the orange one. She looked inside the mesh box; its hue changed with the placement of each stone, but it remained empty. Within moments of Mumar's entrance into the greenhouse, the sides of the container moved in her hand as if it were mechanical. The top and bottom panels were shifting mirrors that angled into a kaleidoscope. A bright, symmetrical pattern of red, orange, yellow, and green hues became three-dimensional. She gaped at the beautiful design. “Kritaria's net?”

Mumar said something, but the crackling sound of thunder drowned out his voice. A flaming cloud descended, and on it stood Kinovah. She did not look the same, but the ice-blue eyes were evidence that the djinni before them was the same who bargained with Lydia. Kinovah, in her grander form, had markings covering her leather face. She wore a lengthy one-piece and a golden belt around her waist. The tattooed glyphs on her arms glimmered when she extended her opened palm. The box left Lydia’s grasp and appeared in the djinni's hand. 

“So that's it?” Lydia boldly moved toward the djinni. “Ha'arashi will not harm my baby?”

“You've failed.” The djinni's voice was lower than before, lacking its previous empathy.

“It is already dawn.”

“No.” Mumar moved closer. “It is now dawn? It can't be.”

“It is always dawn somewhere.” The djinni leaned forward, revealing her disdain for Mumar. “We have no agreement. You've failed. I will do nothing to protect your child. She is one of us. The soul of Idoth will consume her, and when she is ready for death, Ha'arashi will be there.”

“Wait a minute.” Lydia refused to accept the words of the djinn. The deception was in her words. Mumar had once told her that angels and djinn could not lie outright. Instead, they played with words and twisted sentences. They allowed men to make assumptions and accept a disadvantageous point of view. But Lydia refused to accept the deception. “If it is always dawn somewhere, then it is always before dawn as well.”

The djinni paused and straightened. Her face wrinkled, and the blue eyes narrowed. Lydia had never seen pure rage before. She retreated three steps before falling to her knees, taken by the jann’s angry scream. The voice vibrated the ground. Lydia covered her ears, but her hands could not muffle the sound. When she imagined her head would burst, the agonized screaming stopped, and the djinni snarled at them. Then, in a flash, Kinovah vanished. 

Lydia was on all fours now. She shook her head, exhausted. “I want to leave this place.”

Mumar came to her. She sensed him at her side. She hoped he would console her, but instead, he walked by. When she looked up, he bent to observe something burning on the hilltop. “What is it?” She was afraid something had gone wrong. 

Mumar did not answer. “Let’s go home.” He reached for her hand. “Count with me.”

Lydia remembered the importance of counting backward. She had forgotten to do so and now surmised she had caused the reoccurring lucid dream by not exiting the astral world improperly. “Ten, nine, eight…”

Lydia opened her physical eyes. She looked around the evocation room. More candles burned than what she had lit. The air was saturated with sandalwood scents. She realized Mumar sat behind her. His back was warm against hera. She turned to him. “Is it over?”

Mumar looked forward. He flipped a token in his hand and rubbed it.

“Mumar.” She called with more conviction. “Is my baby safe?”

“Your baby was never in danger.” His voice droned regretfully. “I didn’t realize until you angered the djinni. I saw her true form then.” He turned to face her.  “Djinn go by many names. They do so to prevent us from controlling them. Kinovah is the same as Ha'arashi, who is the same as Lamashtu.” He shook his head. “This was a scheme. We fell for her trick.”

Lydia hesitated. She would consider the implications later. From her point of view, Lydia didn’t care what the djinni did with the net. Only one thing mattered to Lydia, and she wanted Mumar to answer. “Will my baby be safe?”

Mumar spoke with more conviction. He placed his hand on her shoulder and looked deeply into her eyes. “Yes. Your baby was never in danger.”

Lydia lowered her head. The interactions with human beings and djinn were too complicated. She regretted the choice to exclude herself from Mumar’s esoteric underworld. If she had read more books, studied more, and asked many more questions, she may have prevented Kinovah from exploiting her. This cannot happen again; Fiona will need proper protection. She thought about Kate, her firstborn. “Mumar,” she spoke in a soft voice. “I want you to train Kate.”

She waited for him to speak, but he said nothing.

“I’m thirty years old. Too old to learn the right way. Kate’s mind is a sponge. But I need you to swear to me you’ll teach her how to protect Fiona when she is born.”

Mumar’s response was quick. “I promise.”  He reached for her hand. “She will be better equipped than anyone in my brotherhood.”