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The bird is singing inside my head,
And it repeats that I love you,
And it repeats that you love me,
The bird with an unfinished solo,
I will kill it tomorrow morning.
- Jacques Prévert
Alhaitham gets on his feet, trying to maintain his balance; whatever just happened left him vertiginous and unsteady, and clearly hallucinating.
That would explain why, instead of the cracked ceiling of the ruins above him, there is a clear blue sky; why, instead of the wall with ancient runes on it, there is a river in front of him; why, instead of the sand under his feet, there is green grass.
The farther his memories from the event itself, the clearer they are. He and Kaveh had a fight again, and briefly it seemed like Alhaitham had his fill of this whole constant tug of war situation. He left for the desert – not because of Kaveh; his preplanned trip to the ruins and the quarrel simply coincided (Kaveh definitely thinks they didn’t). A long trip under the blazing sun changed into the coldness of the catacombs. Alhaitham was transferring the letters into his notebook – and, as he was turning around to fetch a flask from his bag, he saw a bottle, hanging in the air nonchalantly, as if it had always been there, although Alhaitham could swear it wasn’t when he came.
This vision is either a distorted recollection – or a part of the hallucination.
And here it was supposed to be a totally safe endeavor. A good reminder to never listen to the reassurance of those who have never been to the desert, though.
But he will deal with the incompetence of his peers later. For now, it is likely that his body is still somewhere in the middle of the desert, alone, with no one around to snap him out of this illusion, slowly dehydrating, suffering if not from the heat, than from the stale air of the tomb. He takes a deep breath – here, the gentle wind carries the freshness and a subtle aroma of the flowers and clean water, but the sense of security it gives Alhaitham is misleading.
He needs a plan.
This isn’t his first hallucination; not even the strangest he has seen. Tighnari sometimes is… exceptionally creative about his past-time, and he is lucky to find companionship in individuals who don’t mind indulging in everything once. Or twice. Or enough times to be able to compare.
Usually, when the visuals are too overwhelming, Tighnari offers him a potion, which sobers Alhaitham up pretty quickly. It’s not always needed, though – redirecting his thoughts also helps.
Alhaitham closes his eyes, attempting to picture himself; lying on the sand, coarse under his resting flat palms, the torch is quietly crackling somewhere at the distance, his lips are dry, unlike the rest of his body, torn between heat and cold, sweating as if he has a fever.
He blinks away the delusion, but it stays where it was. Not strange – just more vivid than anything he has ever seen. Almost as if what he is experiencing now is…
Real. And not the creation of his mind.
Alhaitham takes a step; the ground is firm, and it doesn’t vanish as he nears the river; he crouches and lowers his fingers into the water. It caresses his skin like the real water would, and it reflects his face – brows frowned in concern, lips pressed together tightly - like the real water would.
Hallucinations he has been through could have been unpleasant, but they were tottering; the cushion of the sofa might have seemed jelly-like, but he has never actually believed it was, not fully, not with that segment of his brain that, against all odds, remained rational.
If this is real, this fact doesn’t change the situation. Alhaitham still has the same number of problems he has had a minute ago. His body is not in danger, at the moment – but where is it, then?
He could be dead.
Alhaitham flinches his cool hand away from the river.
He is not dead. His pulse is still beating under the thumb as he presses it to his wrist. Besides, after death, there is only a black void. Non-existence. And this place is neither.
Confusion clouds his mind, forcing him to consider the least probable options. This must be it. And this world is either his own, or some kind of a…
A soft rustle of grass; Alhaitham turns his head to its source and sees.
Well. Not the strangest view he has ever seen, although this statement has just become debatable.
Kaveh warmly smiles at him.
The man standing before him wears Kaveh’s clothes. He wears Kaveh’s face; the same little too plump for a man lips, the same upturned eyes – only instead of familiar red, they are radiant blue, just like his hair.
But the man standing before him can’t be Kaveh, and it has nothing to do with his features. Kaveh is at home, screaming, oh you know what, run away to your bloody desert like a coward you are, into Alhaitham’s back right before he crosses the threshold.
“You seem worried, Alhaitham. Is everything alright?” He is speaking in Kaveh’s voice, but softer. A long time ago, Kaveh used to talk to him in the same honeyed intonation.
And this not-Kaveh is aware of Alhaitham’s identity, although they certainly have never met.
“I’m feeling somewhat perplexed.”
“What can I do to help you?”
Suddenly, the air is not so fresh – it’s viscous and suffocating, and Alhaitham must be in the tomb still, and what he thought was under control starts slipping away. The dizziness that barely disappeared washes over him with newfound strength. Such a foolish reaction to an event that in terms of strangeness far exceeds everything he has seen before.
“Who are you?” Alhaitham asks, pushing out the nausea creeping up the throat with words.
“I’m Kaveh.”
Right. Because the real Kaveh would say that instead of ridiculing Alhaitham’s forgetfulness.
“Do you…” Alhaitham swallows. “Mean me harm?”
A malicious entity wouldn’t give itself away upon the inquiry alone; but a lie or a reaction can be enough to reach a conclusion.
Kaveh creases his brows, looking at him with more confusion than Alhaitham feels. “Of course not. I love you.”
Blood thumps heavily in his ears; not a hallucination, not a reality, but a dream. Perhaps, a nightmare. They are vivid, after years of dreamlessness. In them, Kaveh that looks like Kaveh dies; and hearing him say that is not even close, but equally surreal and unsettling. Because the real Kaveh would never…
Alhaitham exhales and inhales, slowly. This slight panic is just the primal fear of the unknown; and he takes pride in not letting things like that overcome him. This is going to be alright. And he is going to return home unscathed.
“How do I get out of here?”
“I don’t actually know. But I am acquainted with someone who should.”
“Can you take me to them?”
“I can’t. But I can summon her. Would you like me to…”
“Yes. Yes, definitely.”
This is a plan. A start. Potentially doomed to fail, because how much can he trust the man standing before him?
Alhaitham shakes his head. Nothing terrible has happened yet; and the problems are better solved upon their arrival.
“Done. But it might take some time. Would you be interested in waiting for her in a cozier setting?”
“Which is?”
“Home. I have food – your favorite. You must be hungry.”
Alhaitham’s stomach is tied in a tight knot, so hungry is the last thing he is. But staying in one place will lead nowhere. He should learn as much as possible about his surroundings, in case this mysterious entity won’t be of much assistance.
He nods – and ignores the hand Kaveh outstretches to help him up.
***
The scenery as they walk through the valley reminds Alhaitham of Sumeru, but not a single specific place comes to mind. Perhaps, because nature appears more or less the same everywhere; or, perhaps, because there is little he can think about other than the creature moving in front of him.
If only Alhaitham knew more about him, he would probably be able to tell where he is. To guess, at least. It’s reasonable to consider other options for escaping, in case that omniscient entity Kaveh talked about won’t appear; or if it is hostile and won’t allow Alhaitham to leave.
“Kaveh.” Calling him that feels odd and awkward, like running into a stranger on the street and crying out their name, fully acknowledging that they are not the same person you take them for, but doing that anyway, because realization came a second too late.
“Yes?”
He needs to proceed with caution; the real Kaveh is constant in his volatility, and Alhaitham can deal with it because he is aware of his nature. But here, a wrong step could potentially cost Alhaitham his life, no matter what Kaveh assured him of. And if he believes that he is Kaveh, the most obvious solution would be to play along.
“Do you remember how we met?”
“Of course. You were sitting alone in the House of Daena, and I approached you. It was love at first sight.”
Kaveh speaks as if he reminisces – slowly, savoring every word. As if he was there. Half of his memories seem to be accurate – they did meet in the House of Daena. But then, there is that again. Love. Alhaitham can’t crawl into the real Kaveh’s head, but he is pretty sure this isn’t true.
“What else do you remember about… us?”
“As much as humanly possible. How we stayed in your room, listening to music instead of preparing homework. How you took me home after the night out. How you helped me out when I was at my lowest, inviting me to your place.”
Those events happened. But the Kaveh Alhaitham knows would say, your music hindered my concentration. He would say, I was bruising all over after you brute carried me home like I was a sack of potatoes.
He wouldn’t talk about Alhaitham allowing him to stay so calmly.
“What about last Friday? Do you remember it?”
“We were… drinking, right?”
They usually do. But not last Friday; Kaveh was busy with his new project.
“Yes. With our friends, Saanvi and Aarav.”
“It was nice to see them, wasn’t it?”
It could have been if they existed.
“What can you tell me about your family?”
“You know everything there is to know.”
Alhaitham, you’ve finally lost it, the real Kaveh would gasp in a fake surprise if Alhaitham asked him this question.
“I must have forgotten.”
“That’s not a big deal. I know you are a busy man.” Not a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “My parents are happy and healthy, and they are enjoying their retirement in the village.”
Kaveh does struggle with abandonment issues, but he would never lie about this. Which leads Alhaitham to conclude that, although he and the real Kaveh do share some memories, most of them – based on little data that Alhaitham has gathered, but he is not inclined to continue with this interrogation - concern… well, Kaveh and Alhaitham’s co-existence; but even those are twisted, painted in the same shape, but in a different color. Where the real Kaveh would be irritated, this one is almost… pleased.
Still, he is nothing like what Alhaitham has heard of. He is not a jinni, though there – probably – was a bottle, because it operates nothing like a jinni would.
He has read about a creature from a faraway land that seduces humans in their sleep, sometimes appearing as someone the victim loves or desires, luring them into intimate encounters in their dreams. But this world is unlikely a dream; more a distorted mirror of reality, and the form in the reflecting surface is comprehensible, but the details are different. Besides, if Kaveh is trying to seduce him, he could do better. He is simply… nice, and this is more disturbing and suspicious than alluring.
“We have arrived.”
Alhaitham, drifting between their conversation and his thoughts, hasn’t noticed the shift in surroundings from the green valley into a grand palace, towering above the rivers and fields. He recognizes the style, of course – only this building is free from the constraints of guidelines and the caprices of the clients. Something the real Kaveh would build if he could, Alhaitham imagines.
“I am utterly unsurprised by the fact that you live in the palace.”
“We do. Allow me to show you the library before we dine?”
***
Alhaitham pensively flips over the pages.
It is a book; and, typically, such a simple and obvious statement would make him want to snicker, but when reality itself is questioned, there are no simple statements. It is a book – pleasantly heavy in his hand, edges of the pages aren’t sharp at the deliberate touch yet still undoubtedly able to leave a cut; there is even text inside – and Alhaitham doesn’t examine it thoroughly, but it seems coherent as he skims through.
“Is it to your liking?”
“Pardon me?” Alhaitham closes the book and puts it back on the shelf.
“The library. Do you like it?”
He hurried to the bookshelf when they came in, not paying much attention to the interior. He was hoping to find – he isn’t even sure now. Some sort of an answer. But the physical existence of the real books in this world essentially proves nothing.
But now, he finally has an opportunity to look around. Stretching out in every direction, the library is an impressive expanse, its grandeur magnified by towering ceilings and tall windows that invite the light in. The bookshelves line the walls, housing, from the initial impression, an admirable collection of books. This room reminds Alhaitham of his house – if his house was unreasonably vast; even the lamps on the imposing desk in the center – Kaveh is sitting on its corner, looking at Alhaitham expectantly – are the same he has in his office back home.
“It’s adequate, I suppose.”
“Thank you.” Kaveh beams. “I made it for you. I’m going to prepare dinner now. Feel free to wander around.”
***
“Here.” Kaveh puts the plate on the table in front of Alhaitham. A fork and a knife land next to it, softly clinking against each other. He sits across from Alhaitham, and, placing his chin on his palm, fixes his eyes on him.
Alhaitham isn’t sure what is more unsettling; that Kaveh voluntarily, without complaining, cooked for him – or that the quiche actually looks delicious. Alhaitham feels as his mouth is watering at the familiar smell.
He doesn’t think he should eat it, though. There are legends about travelers winding up in a distant land and a clandestine entity offering them food to anchor to it.
“I don’t have an appetite right now.”
If Kaveh is upset, he doesn’t show it. And the real Kaveh would definitely be upset.
“Of course. What would you like to do, then?”
Well, that’s obvious.
“Where is that person you talked about? The one who knows the way out?”
“I told you, it might take a while for her to arrive. I apologize for that.”
Kaveh would never apologize to him. Not sincerely, anyway.
“Why are you apologizing if it’s not your fault? You did summon her, didn’t you?”
“It’s just… I’m not able to fulfill your wish promptly.” And, strictly speaking, doesn’t have to be; his – at least verbal – desire to help is a miracle in its own right, as well as the fact that he didn’t kill Alhaitham at the first opportunity. “But she has been notified. Would you like to rest in the meantime?”
Rest sounds like something Alhaitham shouldn’t do under these circumstances; but if anything, being alone might give him some time to think. Not that Kaveh has interrupted his thinking process much – he has been surprisingly silent the whole time, by Kaveh’s standards.
So silent that it is eerie.
“I’d like that.”
***
The sunset sun fills the room with an orange light, coming through the arch leading to the balcony. There is nothing extraordinary about this room; it, too, reminds him of his own, but his own doesn’t evoke a sense of agoraphobia in Alhaitham.
“Come look.” Kaveh walks past him to the balcony; Alhaitham cautiously trails after him. “Isn’t it beautiful?” He broadly gestures at the view in front of them. It’s the mountains. Fields. Rivers. Alhaitham has never seen the particular appeal. He prefers the city; convenient, clean, safe. But Kaveh is looking at him as he asks – and Alhaitham suspects that he is not at all talking about the scenery.
The question - so obvious that it ignites disappointment in his own mental abilities for it didn’t occur sooner - arises in his mind.
“Kaveh, where are we?”
“Home.”
“And where is home?”
“Where we are.”
Saccharinely romantic. Very Kaveh of him, but doesn’t help Alhaitham in the slightest. He sighs.
Kaveh takes a step towards Alhaitham and, cupping Alhaitham’s cheek with the cold palm, guides him to meet the gaze of radiant blue eyes – and leans forward.
Alhaitham doesn’t recoil, doesn’t flinch away, as he would if someone else solicited him; as he wouldn’t if the real Kaveh tried to do the same thing. He turns his head away slowly, distancing himself from Kaveh.
“I’m sorry.” Kaveh smiles at him, backing up. “I thought you wanted it.”
He might be complaisant, this Kaveh; everything he has done so far was done to please Alhaitham. But he lacks empathy. That sets him apart from the real Kaveh even further.
“Did you? Want it?”
“Of course. Because I…”
“Love me?”
“Yes.”
“You keep saying that. But you don’t know me.” He studies Kaveh’s expression carefully in case the smile changes into a sinister grin.
It doesn’t.
“Of course I do know you. I know your favorite blend of coffee and your favorite place to sit in the restaurant. I know your height, your smell, how much your attire costs. I know that you are rude, selfish and absolutely intolerable. I know that you never notice the way I look at you and the things I do for you. And I know that you are loved by me.”
Alhaitham, don’t forget to reimburse me for your coffee, I’m not going to spend the whole prepayment on it. Ugh, okay, okay, take your seat, if you like it so much. You are so rude, selfish, absolutely intolerable and blind for a good measure! And I hate you so much.
The real Kaveh wouldn’t have kissed him. He would have stared angrily at Alhaitham, he would have pouted and frowned, and then he would have repeated the same thing again and again. But at least Alhaitham would have known where his reactions came from and that they both chose to behave in a certain way around each other.
“I am tired.”
“I’ll give you privacy, then. Should you need anything, I’ll be in the next room. Goodnight, Alhaitham.”
***
Alhaitham isn’t even trying to fall asleep.
He stays on the balcony, sitting against the wall, pondering, watching as the evening turns into the night, and the night turns into an early morning, and when it is time to wake up, instead of him, rouses a decision.
Alhaitham has to leave.
Kaveh – the one who looks like him – is probably just dragging out time, using sweet words and kind gestures to lull his vigilance. For what exactly, Alhaitham doesn’t know – and has absolutely no desire to find out.
***
He finds Kaveh in the living room (not that Alhaitham was looking for him – but the rooms in the palace are aligned with each other, and Kaveh just happened to be on Alhaitham’s way to the door), drinking coffee. The real Kaveh doesn’t care for coffee. He drinks it in the morning to keep Alhaitham company. And probably only because Alhaitham brews it – and it’s free.
“Good morning. Want me to make you one?” Kaveh raises the cup.
“No. I have to go.”
“Alright. I will see you off.”
That went… surprisingly easy. Easier than it usually is to leave for work.
They make it to the door; Kaveh opens it for him – and Alhaitham almost bumps into a woman, standing at the threshold, her fist held up. She has the same blue hair and eyes Kaveh does – their nature is probably similar if not the same.
“Hello, Kaveh.” She raises on her tiptoes and waves. “I see you have a guest.” She looks Alhaitham up and down. “You must be Alhaitham. You look exactly like Kaveh described you. Although I imagined you would be taller.”
“Alhaitham, this is Idyia. She will help you to leave.”
“Kaveh, would you mind preparing a breakfast for us?” He probably nods – and, as the sound of footsteps behind Alhaitham’s back recedes, Idyia continues, “Let’s carry this conversation to the garden. Kaveh really poured his heart out onto it.”
***
“Ask away. I can tell you have questions,” Idyia says as they follow the neatly laid pavement, circling the building around.
“Am I dreaming?” Alhaitham has previously discarded this possibility, but he asks anyway to be sure.
“I’m taking that as a compliment.”
Evidently, no.
“Am I…” The mere thought sends shivers down his spine. “Dead?”
“Well, you do look more… bloated than most people I know, but it seems like it’s your natural state. I’m not an expert, though.”
Also no, then.
They walk under the arch, stepping into the shadow casted by the abundant trees. Somewhere in the depth of the garden, a bird takes off, rapidly flapping its wings.
“Am I trapped in another dimension?”
Idyia stops and raises her hand to rub a leaf between her fingers. “Don’t you think it’s sad to break immersion?”
“So it is a yes?”
“You are not trapped.”
He has been on edge for nearly a day; but, as Alhaitham hears that, his shoulders gradually relax, and he feels as the furrow on his brow softens. A sigh of relief escaped his lips – although it was a very premature reaction. He will believe it when he sees it.
“Then how do I…”
“Wait.” She glances at him before she keeps strolling. “We are in a dramatic pause. Ask something else.”
“It’s not a dramatic pause if we are conversing.”
“Kaveh did mention that you are quite knowledgeable about many things. He found that quality of yours quite infuriating. But in a special way.”
He is quite curious about that, of course, now when the most pressing matter has been more or less solved.
“Have you met him? The real one.”
“Yes. He was a huge help. It’s a shame he spent such a short time with us. Someone important must have been waiting for him.”
“And you decided to… what, recreate him? Why?”
“People usually ask me. Kaveh didn’t, but… I couldn’t resist. He was so unique – there are many replicas of many talented individuals here, but none of them are gifted with such great power of love. So I took the most loyal eidolon and gave it his shape – of body, of mind; of that love he contains within him. To preserve it forever.”
Eidolons. Alhaitham has read about them, but taking up a human form – and speaking as a human would – wasn’t the ability mentioned in the books. Perhaps, it is the place itself that affects them. Nevertheless, he has had zero chances to guess Kaveh’s true nature.
They reach a small pond; Idyia sits on its edge and, not bothering to take off the boots, lowers her legs into the water. Alhaitham seats himself next to her.
“What about the palace?”
“Oh, Kaveh built it during his stay. He actually asked for an opportunity to build it as a payment for his work. I couldn’t get it through him that he was free to do whatever he wanted.”
Alhaitham chuckles. That does sound like the Kaveh he knows.
“I must say, your skills in replication are rather poor. This one doesn’t hold a candle to m… to the real Kaveh.”
Idyia frowns, swinging her legs. “Is this your version of constructive criticism? Don’t answer that… You know, this is the land where the wishes come true. And from what I gathered from Kaveh’s stories – well, his constant mumbling – Kaveh wished for two things. To build a beautiful house – and to be loved by you. So when he left, I instructed the eidolon to be more…”
Her comprehension might also be lacking. Or simply non-existent. No one in the right mind after meeting Kaveh would think that he is in love with Alhaitham. Unless Kaveh changes his tune so drastically that he becomes excessively affectionate yet totally unremarkable.
“Pliant? Submissive? Convenient?”
“Lovable. He isn’t the easiest man to love, from my point of view. I mean, he is charming, but he talked my ears off. Alhaitham this, Alhaitham that. Alhaitham is incorrigible, he always picks up a fight, what am I supposed to do?” She poorly mimics Kaveh’s voice. “But there was warmth to his words. And how could you even ramble so much about a person you don’t love? So I evened out some sharp edges and left what was there all along. The bright light of his love.”
Alhaitham detests changes. And more than simple changes, he detests those that are forced upon him by circumstances. If what Idyia says is true, if her perception of Kaveh is correct, then there is a risk that one day, everything will change.
People are rarely satisfied with what they have; they want more and more, and more – until, in the end, more can’t fill the emptiness. Alhaitham is satisfied with what they have - and fears that it will cease to exist.
That Kaveh might get tired of their constant bickering. That the fire inside him, maintained so carefully, goes out. That he will break and become just a parody of his own past self.
“What will happen to him after I’m gone?”
Idyia smiles playfully, leaning towards Alhaitham. “Aw, you care about him, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t want to inflict needless suffering when that can be avoided.”
“And if I said you have to stay in order to do that?”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Because that would inflict needless suffering on someone dear to you?”
“Yes, on me.”
She giggles.
“Is it so difficult to admit that you care?”
“It is generally difficult to admit things you don’t feel, yes.”
“But you do. To you, he is just an eidolon. A small particle of the element your people take for granted. You know that now. And yet, you ask. Kaveh might not be the easiest man to love from my point of view, but you aren’t from his, so I looked at you through his eyes and saw an awful man. If Kaveh was a lover in a story, you would be the tempter. But I was wrong.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“What would you want me to do with him? I can relieve him of his role. He will return to being just an eidolon. I can let him be. And he will be forever waiting for you, alone in this beautiful house. Or…”
“Or?”
“Another eidolon can take up your role. They would fight for it. Oh, to be the tempter… What is your biggest dream?”
“To lead a peaceful life.”
“Then that’s what they will be doing. In the perfect version of the future both of you, I hope, will one day reach.”
It might seem perfect to her. But it isn’t.
“I don’t find the idea of taking responsibility for his fate appealing.”
“It isn’t. But it also won’t be the first time.”
They sit in silence for a while, until Alhaitham breaks it, “Is the dramatic pause over?”
“Yes, that’s about time.”
“How do I leave, then?”
“You leave the way you came.”
Oh, that simple, huh?
“I am not in the mood for riddles.”
“You wish for it.”
“I didn’t wish to come here. And the moment I did, I wished to leave.”
“There is a difference between trying to willpower your way out of things and a sincere wish. Besides, do you know what they say about hidden desires?”
He wished to come home, back then. Because the desert is harsh and unwelcoming – but home had started to feel unwelcoming too. This is, in a way, a better version of home – but it’s not his version of it.
“Thank you. And before I go – I have decided what to do with Kaveh.”
***
“So next time, when you run away to the desert, you can just…”
“I won’t.”
The road back home utterly exhausted him; it feels so nice to finally be able to relax on the soft cushion of the sofa. If only it was a peaceful rest – but Kaveh interpreted his arrival as an invitation.
“What?”
“There is nothing there for me.” Alhaitham covers his eyes with his hand, blocking the light. “So I won’t, as you so accurately worded it, run away to the desert again.”
“Oh, finally, someone talked some sense into you. Who should I thank for it?”
“Yourself.”
Kaveh stops pacing the room. Alhaitham spreads his fingers to take a peek – and meets the red eyes.
“Do you have a fever?” Kaveh’s palm – warm – touches his forehead. “No, I don’t think so. Do you know what I think?”
“Enlighten me.”
Kaveh slumps on the sofa and sighs.
“I think you’ve finally lost it.”
Alhaitham smiles.
Somewhere in the desert, there is a world in which easy to love Kaveh is head over heels for easy to love Alhaitham. Their life is peaceful and perfect, and totally different from the one Alhaitham wouldn’t exchange for anything.