Zahir's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Zahir flipped through his journal pages, scanning the demon sketches he'd made over the past month. Each drawing showed different features—horns, wings, scaled skin. Beneath each sketch, he'd noted how his birthmark had reacted. Some made it pulse hot. Others turned it ice cold. A few caused it to flutter like a heartbeat. He arranged the pages on the dusty floor of the projection booth, searching for connections. His finger traced the air above them, moving from one sketch to another. The patterns were there. He could feel it. One demon with curved horns had made his birthmark throb in steady beats. Another with the same horn shape did the same thing two weeks later. Zahir grabbed his charcoal and circled both sketches. His hand moved faster now, finding more matches. Three demons with silver eyes. Four with ridged foreheads. Each group triggered the same reaction. He sat back and stared at his work. The demons weren't random. They were related somehow, and his birthmark knew it. One of these groups would lead him to answers about his missing parent. He gathered his sketches and tucked them into his shirt. The theater had given him space to find the patterns, but patterns weren't enough. He needed names, histories, family lines. Somewhere there had to be records that matched these demon features to actual bloodlines. Zahir climbed back through the broken window and started walking. Two hours later, he spotted it—a small building with faded letters above the door and shelves visible through dusty windows. Books lined the walls inside, stacks of them reaching toward the ceiling. Someone had turned this old library into a home, but the records remained. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The air smelled like old paper and sun-baked wood. His fingers traced patterns against his leg as he moved between the shelves, reading spines and labels. Then he found them—three thick volumes marked with demon clan symbols. He pulled the first book down and opened it. Page after page showed family trees, physical traits, and territorial markers. His birthmark warmed against his arm. This was it. This was where he would find the truth.