Zahir’s blood-red smile slowly disappeared.
“The Seven told me you would eventually find me.”
Behind him, thousands of voices whispered through the darkness.
Memories.
Thousands upon thousands of them.
Some screamed.
Some begged.
Others simply repeated names Astucia did not recognize.
She tried again to pull herself from the vision.
Nothing happened.
Zahir watched her struggle.
Then he lifted one hand.
The voices stopped.
Every single one.
The sudden silence was worse.
“You are frightened of me.”
“I’ve met worse.”
Zahir chuckled.
“No, Astucia. You have met crueler.”
He stepped closer.
“You have met stronger.”
Another step.
“You may even have met older.”
He stopped directly before her.
“But you have never met someone who understands what you are becoming.”
Astucia stared at him.
“And what exactly am I becoming?”
Zahir smiled again.
“A doorway.”
The word struck her harder than it should have.
He walked past her.
The darkness changed.
Stone walls appeared around them.
Weapon racks.
Armor.
Ancient relics.
Astucia recognized the chamber.
Ashlana’s armory.
Zahir moved between the weapons as though he had walked these halls a thousand times.
Then he stopped.
Astucia knew what rested before him.
The Nameless Dagger.
Even here, inside the vision, there was something wrong with it.
The weapon seemed to swallow the light surrounding it.
Zahir stared down at the dagger.
“There.”
Astucia didn’t move.
“Take it.”
“No.”
Zahir glanced over his shoulder.
“You answered quickly.”
“Because whatever you want me to do, the answer is no.”
“Is it?”
He turned toward her.
“Then why are you here?”
Astucia said nothing.
Zahir gestured toward the dagger.
“You felt it.”
She hated that he was right.
“You heard it.”
“I heard nothing.”
Another smile.
“Liar.”
The word was almost affectionate.
Astucia’s eyes narrowed.
Zahir approached the dagger but did not touch it.
“The Nameless Dagger has waited longer than most kingdoms have existed.”
“For what?”
“For someone capable of remembering what it is.”
Astucia looked toward the weapon.
There were no markings on its blade.
No crest.
No maker’s mark.
Nothing identifying the hand that had forged it.
That was why Ashlana’s records called it the Nameless Dagger.
Zahir shook his head.
“They misunderstand.”
Astucia looked at him.
“Understand what?”
“It is not called Nameless because its creator is unknown.”
His expression changed.
For the first time, Astucia saw something resembling reverence in him.
“It is Nameless because it removes names.”
Astucia felt cold.
Zahir continued.
“Names from histories.”
He stepped closer to the weapon.
“Names from memories.”
Another step.
“Names from blood.”
Astucia stared at the dagger.
“What happens to the person?”
“Eventually?”
Zahir looked at her.
“No one remembers they ever existed.”
Astucia’s eyes returned to him.
“And you want me to pick that up?”
“I want you to understand it.”
“No. You want me to use it.”
Zahir smiled.
“Very good.”
Astucia backed away from the weapon.
“Find someone else.”
“There is no one else.”
“There is always someone else.”
“Not for this.”
The darkness shifted again.
Brigitte appeared.
Then Alexandre.
Ashlana.
Andre.
Others followed.
People Astucia knew.
People she cared about.
People she had sworn, either aloud or silently, she would protect.
Zahir walked among the frozen images.
“You surround yourself with powerful creatures.”
Astucia watched him carefully.
“So?”
“So you believe that makes them safe.”
He stopped beside Alexandre.
“How many enemies does he have?”
Astucia didn’t answer.
Zahir moved to Brigitte.
“How many would celebrate her final death?”
Silence.
He stopped beside Ashlana.
“And how many ancient things have spent thousands of years dreaming of seeing her destroyed?”
“Don’t.”
Zahir looked back at her.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The reason you will take the dagger.”
Astucia’s anger rose.
“I said no.”
“Today.”
He approached her.
“You said no today.”
His voice softened.
“But one night Alexandre will scream your name.”
Astucia’s jaw tightened.
“One night Brigitte will face something even she cannot defeat.”
He moved closer.
“One night Ashlana’s ancient guards will fall.”
“Stop.”
“And when that night comes, Astucia, you will remember this moment.”
The Nameless Dagger appeared between them.
“You will remember that there was a weapon capable of saving them.”
Astucia stared at it.
Zahir leaned toward her.
“And you left it behind.”
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Astucia looked him directly in the eyes.
“If the dagger is so powerful, why don’t you take it?”
Zahir became completely still.
Astucia noticed.
For the first time since the vision began, she had asked something he hadn’t wanted her to ask.
“You can’t.”
His expression hardened.
Astucia stepped toward him now.
“Can you?”
Silence.
“You need me to touch it.”
Zahir’s blood-red teeth slowly appeared.
“Clever girl.”
Astucia’s stomach tightened.
“What happens if I do?”
“Knowledge.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Power.”
“Still not an answer.”
Zahir laughed.
Astucia stepped closer.
“What happens to me?”
His laughter stopped.
For the first time, his answer came without a smile.
“The dagger remembers you.”
Astucia stared at him.
“And?”
“And you remember it.”
The whispers returned.
But this time they spoke together.
One voice made from thousands.
Take it.
Astucia covered her ears.
The voices grew louder.
Take it.
Zahir extended his hand toward the Nameless Dagger.
“Think of Alexandre.”
Take it.
“Think of Brigitte.”
Take it.
“Think of everyone you have failed to save.”
Astucia’s anger exploded.
“ENOUGH!”
The darkness trembled.
Zahir smiled.
There it was.
Exactly the emotion he had wanted.
He whispered:
“Then make certain you never fail again.”
The Nameless Dagger appeared directly before Astucia.
Close enough to touch.
Her hand twitched.
Zahir saw it.
His blood-red smile widened.
“Take it.”
Astucia stared at the blade.
Every instinct told her to run.
Every lesson Mireille had ever taught her told her that some memories were buried for a reason.
But beneath those warnings came another thought.
Alexandre.
Brigitte.
The people she loved.
The people she could lose.
Her fingers slowly moved toward the hilt.
Zahir didn’t move.
He barely seemed to breathe.
Astucia’s fingertips came within an inch of the weapon.
Then she stopped.
She looked at Zahir.
And suddenly understood.
“You aren’t trying to give me the dagger.”
His smile vanished.
Astucia lowered her hand.
“You’re trying to get me to open it.”
For the first time, Zahir Kharim looked afraid.
Crazy Canadian Writing 