I, the loyal Ghull of the Asaha, fear as well.

  I fear as all creatures do fear.

  I fear from time, for time is inevitable.

  Time is invincible and unbeatable.

  Time is irrevocable.

  Time is the cruelest enemy of all.

  Sunday morning, 7:45 AM. Ava woke up, unconcerned by the silence that followed her voice message. She went through her chores and helped at the winery. In the familiar faces she had known for so long, she found peace. As she walked in the steady footsteps of her mother, the comforting routine of home was a protective refuge.

  Soon, the tasting room of the winery was filled with people enjoying their wine. Ava loved watching how their faces transformed before and after the tasting. She could even tell if L'Ambert Estate was the first, second, or third winery they had visited that day. A shy couple would begin to mingle, a group of friends would find something unusually amusing, an old friend would recall a memory, and a married couple would debate the acidity of the pinot noir, requesting a cheese platter for their kids.

  Over the hills behind the main building, most of the grapevines were already covered in light green leaves. Soon, they would bloom and begin to bear the fruits of the season. By the end of summer, the grapes would undergo veraison. They would change color and start ripening. Green grapes turning red, purple, or yellow. That would be Ava’s favorite time of year, when a breeze of hope filled her heart, accompanied by the autumn hues of nature. But it was yet only the beginning of summer.

  She walked barefoot between the vines, feeling the soil soothe her worries. A snake slithered past, almost brushing against her left leg. Her mind wandered again to the old box in the closet. She could hear her grandmother’s voice calling to her, urging her to explore behind the door she had already opened.

  The evening brought a cool breeze to Paso Robles, signaling the start of the dry season. With no moisture in the air, the half-moon and stars shone brightly against a sky painted in hues of pink, orange, and purple. Ava started a fire in the firepit at the back of her ranch house. The flames grew higher as she added the third large log. Darkness settled over the fire, which hungrily consumed the dry wood.

  Ava brought the old box to the firepit. She opened the soil bag and found the matches, tossing them into the flames. Then she scattered the soil around the rose bushes. Her eyes lingered on the photo of her grandma and father in front of the old stone house. She held it close to the fire, the edges warming. For a second, she hesitated. In the flickering shadows on the other side of the firepit, she saw those eyes again, those familiar eyes hidden inside the flames that she had seen so many times before. The eyes she was almost ready to confront, to face, and to question. As the roaring flames obscured everything behind them, her heart pounding, Ava pulled the photo back.

  “I know you’ve been watching me. Show yourself!” she called, her voice trembling as she finally gathered her breath. “I see you and I know you! I summon you to face me!”

  Then, those eyes appeared again. Flames behind the flames, born from the fire into the darkness, looking at her. Beneath the eyes, his dark figure rose from the flames, growing taller in a dense hue of circling smoke as he appeared. Locks of long black hair cascaded to his waist, draping over bare shoulders and chest. His face, neither man nor woman, was smooth and firm, like it had been carved from onyx. His eyes were twin orbs of fire, burning as they fixed on her. His form flickered within the smoke, appearing and vanishing with each movement.

  Ava stifled a gasp, forcing herself not to scream as he glided closer. She could make out his face as he neared. His features were flawless, beyond anything human or crafted by human hands. He moved with effortless grace, his form swirling like smoke in the air. He allowed Ava to gaze at him, making her believe he was tangible. Slowly, he drew nearer, and she inhaled the smoky scent that evoked memories of her childhood, of autumn leaves burning with the remains of crops being torched before the onset of winter.

  “You summoned me,” he said, “Do not fear.”

  Ava did not dare to speak yet. The courage she thought was ready to face the Ghull now faltered at the sight before her eyes. Such beauty to behold and such darkness, enough to chill her entire body with both amazement and awe.

  His voice was deep and resonant, neither distinctly male nor female. The Ghull took the photo Ava had been clutching, and his flaming eyes lowered with a faint smile, as though he were gazing at an old friend.

  “I knew your grandma,” he said, his voice warm, as though revealing a secret that no longer needed to be kept. “She told me you would summon me when you were ready.”

  He moved closer to Ava, his approach almost undetectable flowing like a hue of smoke. His long fingers moved with fluid grace, brushing Ava’s cheek and chin. Cutting through the chill of the night air, his touch felt unexpectedly warm, like a splash of hot water that pulsed through her. Ava could feel the restrained power within him, that mere touch could burn her skin if he wished.

  The Ghull's smoky form swirled around him, slowly closing all around Ava, wrapping her in a thick veil of darkness that pushed her toward his chest. She felt her breath growing shallow as the smoke rose to her chest, its weight making it harder to move. Yet, within the tight coil of smoke, Ava felt an unexpected comfort, a sweet warmth, as if the smoke were lifting her, releasing her from the pull of gravity. His eyes, now burning brighter and larger, never left her. Paralyzed by both fear and a strange, soothing stillness, Ava couldn’t grasp his intent. The suffocating pressure of his presence suddenly constricted around her throat, but just as she thought she might choke, he released her from his grasp. Release of his assertion of power gave Ava a feeling of safety and submission.

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  “If you are ready, I am ready,” he said. “Ask me.”

  I, the loyal Ghull of the Asaha, am the only ghull to get so close to creatures of mud and understand them. I saw how similar these creatures can be to a creature of fire. How a fire burns inside them invisible and unquenchable. In time I respected them, admired sometimes, and even loved once.

  One day, I was called to help a creature of mud who was above all the other creatures of mud. A power Ava possessed above all others and even above a ghull such as myself. A power of light not to fight but to equalize the dark.

  It is hard to believe that such fragile creatures can hold such a light, but who am I to know who deserves or who deserves not.

  My devotion is to save the last one of the creatures of mud who can hold the light to settle the dark. For this ambition I am devoted, I risk my own sake, my own harmony and serenity.

  Much slower though, my time burns inevitable, one day will end, soon predictable. At the end of my time, I the loyal Ghull of the Asaha, have one wish irresistible.

  “Tell me what this is I have in me?” Ava finally asked as if she knew what her first question would be after all those years of self-doubt.

  “You are the contrary of the ghull, such as myself,” the Ghull started explaining, his words clear and certain. “Where the ghull is dark, you are light. What the ghull lose, you find. Now the ghull need you to save again what was saved long ago.”

  “What did you save?”

  “I am the loyal Ghull, I saved many and gifted many. Let die many and killed many. Creatures of mud are so many,” answered the Ghull. Ava could almost see his fire eyes was amused and he was enjoying his cryptic words and he talked and slowly moved around Ava slowly closing in again.

  “I felt the same when I was with him,” Ava said hesitantly. “You know, I asked you before, I felt the darkness in him.” She was asking a question she didn’t know why she was asking. She was letting her instincts to shape her decisions.

  “You felt the smoke of the ghull in him. For that the ghull cannot contain the darkness, you will help the ghull. And you will help the prince. He will come to you soon.”

  “But how can I help him?” Ava asked, her voice uncertain.

  “Patience,” the Ghull replied, his tone both gentle and firm.

  He moved closer to face her, his fiery eyes burning bright and vivid right before her own. Ava inhaled deeply, the warmth of his breath mingling with the smoky scent that seemed to linger in the air. The heat enveloped her as his smoke swirled around her like a living thing.

  “I will teach you,” he murmured, his voice low and mesmerizing. “Listen carefully, and do not fear. I will find the cracks in your existence, and I will seep inside of you. You will feel my darkness, pain, anguish, and you will hate me for it. You will scream in pain, but I will assert myself. You will endure. Do you feel me?”

  Ava was caught in a haze of shock, suspended between hysteria and reality. Her body felt heavy, tired, as if it were sinking under an invisible ocean. She knew what the Ghull meant, she could feel the stirrings of her own inner strength, but her mind, tangled in disbelief, held her back.

  The Ghull suddenly halted, retreating slightly, his burning eyes still fixed on Ava. He reached out and gently touched her shoulders and neck. His touch, unexpectedly tender, relaxed her, offering a sense of comfort that she couldn’t quite explain. Ava felt the tension in her body begin to ease under his touch, the warmth of his presence surrounding her. She let him explore the hidden caves of her body. His smoke enveloped Ava, and she found herself slipping deeper into the comforting embrace of its darkness.

  Just as the Ghull had warned, Ava felt his presence creeping through her veins. It was as if something poisonous was invading her body, choking her breath. Panic surged within her, and with a burst of desperation, she gripped his arm. The moment her hand made contact with his hot skin, pain shot through her, his flesh burned like fire. Tears streaked down her face as she struggled for control. She wanted to cry for help, but her voice failed her.

  All she could see were his eyes, blazing from within the smoke, unreadable, neither cruel nor kind, but filled with a power she couldn't yet to understand. She couldn't tell if he would destroy her or simply watch as she unraveled.

  Ava's heart pounded as she realized she was living a real moment, it wasn’t a dream or nightmare, and no one was there to save her. If she was to survive, she would have to save herself. With a deep, steadying breath, she closed her eyes and turned inward. In the depths of her heart, she saw her other self who lived in a dreamlike realm far away from her world and right in the middle of her world at the same time. Behind a sheer curtain she saw herself existing and not existing at the same time, real and unreal mingling in time and space. In her bright heart, she saw his darkness, creeping like the scent of a poisonous flower, sweet yet suffocating. How tempting it was to give in to its allure, to surrender to the power he offered.

  The day Ava’s father died, her grandmother sat motionless on the divan. Her eyes were red from crying, but the tears had long since dried. She stared out the window, her ears deaf to the world around her. Ava, still a small child, rested her head on her grandmother's lap, trying with her small hands to offer some comfort. They embraced each other, and through the quiet of their shared grief, they fell into a deep, sorrowful sleep.

  When her grandmother finally began to see and hear again, she gently took care of Ava. She baked fresh bread buns and made lemonade, as though trying to revive the simple comforts of life.

  “Why did my father let go of us, Grandma? Why did he want to die?” Ava asked, her voice small with confusion and hurt. Her grandmother didn't have an answer. But Ava, in the depth of her sorrow, made herself a promise: she would never be like her father.

  Ava desperately opened her eyes, instinctively searching for a source of light to cling to. Her gaze fixed on the soft blue glow of the moon reflecting off the surface of the bird pool beside the magnolia tree. She reached out toward it. As her fingers extended toward the light, it surged toward her like a lightning bolt in slow motion. When it reached her, it enveloped her skin in its radiant glow, creating a space between her body and the dark smoke that allowed her to breathe once more.

  The Ghull watched Ava with a wicked smile, both amazed and proud.

  “Your light is your life,” he said. “This was such a good debut.”

  With that, the Ghull vanished into the darkness, pulling the smoke around him like a cloak, leaving Ava standing in the haze of her own light. The fire in the pit slowly flickered and died. Ava held the light in her hand, watching it gently fade into the night, its glow dissolving like a dream.