The Serpent's Veil

Temple of Darkness

Yahya couldn't see. He couldn't breathe. He was still and falling at the same time, alive and dead. He blinked, or rather he imagined himself blinking, and suddenly saw the outlines of buildings, felt the earth beneath his body, and then it was the darkness again. It could have been seconds, or minutes, or even hours before the darkness finally swallowed itself into a dull amber light and he hit solid ground again. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he rose, he flexed his arms, spinning around to face a pair of golden eyes.

"Remain calm, brother," the man said, darting around him and grabbing both his arms.

Yahya willed everything he had into him, screaming the same commands over and over again.

Yield.

Let go.

Surrender.

But the man's grip remained steadfast and solid as tempered steel, and soon began to burn his skin where he touched him. Yahya twisted and writhed in his grip to no avail, catching a glimpse of a shimmering ruby on an armband out of the corner of his eye. A suppressive talisman. Dread filled Yahya's bones. Without his compulsion he was well and truly powerless. His breaths grew shallow and his heartbeat quickened, much to his captor's amusement.

"Calm, brother, calm. We will not hurt you."

He directed him forward, and it was only then Yahya noticed the woman's body laying on the floor beside them. It was her. He had not been dreaming. Her beautiful hair was strewn on the damp ground, her veil and dress torn.

A slew of hot hair shot out of the man's flared nostrils, burning the back of Yahya's neck. "Eyes forward you little pervert."

"She's hurt."

"She could be dead and it would still be no business of yours." The man jerked him forward into the dark hall leading nowhere. Yahya himself did not know why he was showing concern for someone who had clearly revealed herself to be his enemy. His jaw tightened as he thought about how this man had nearly killed Sharan, how this woman had nearly taken Rehan in his place. That, at least, he had prevented.

There was a faint light at the end of the hall now, and the ground had turned into smooth, solid tiles. They emerged into a large open atrium, the ceiling was impaled with shards of glass in no particular arrangement or pattern that reflected what little light penetrated the room. The man turned his head and blew a line of flame out towards the wall where it caught on one of the torches. The lone light was enough to reveal the five arches encircling the hall.

Yahya's neck and upper back prickled uncomfortably from the heat radiating from his captor's body. He directed him towards the arch directly opposite, which was lined with torches along either side. There was still no indication of where they were, no tell tale markings on the wall or floor to go by. It was certainly no mosque. They must have been underground, unless Yahya had been in the dark realm for far longer than he thought.

"You have a powerful ability," Yahya remarked.

"High praise coming from you."

So, he knew who Yahya was, and by extension probably who his entire family was. "What is this place?"

"It's my house." A pointless answer.

"You don't seem too concerned about your friend," Yahya quipped.

He laughed, spewing hot air down Yahya's back. "Concern? If I showed any concern for her she would travel me all the way to Gaza out of spite."

Yahya drew his brows together. They must have still been close to Rey, or perhaps somewhere along the gulf for him to say Palestine was far away.