QBLH

The Seven of Wands

Showing the fire burning down and trying to survive

Standing your ground, defending your beliefs,

and overcoming challenges with determination

 

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ayesha’s Valour

 

The air crackled as Ayesha’s gaze—predatory, unwavering—locked onto Jim’s. Her voice, a low resonant hum laced with ancient recognition, cut through the charged silence.

“Who are you?”

Her brow furrowed, a tempest gathering behind her eyes.

“I sense… I know you. You are the echo of Qblh. And they called you Qblh.”

The name struck Jim like a physical blow.

“Qblh?” he breathed, the word rasping in his throat, tasting of disbelief and dawning fear.

He had sought to cloak his true form, to observe from the margins. Yet this woman, with audacious certainty, had torn through his illusion. Her declaration was not curiosity—it was a challenge. A silent summons. Her chambers would be the altar where his identity would be stripped bare.

How could she know?
How had she arrived here—now?

The intricacies of temporal displacement were a luxury he could not afford to discuss. Not yet.

He forced a measured breath. The scent of ozone and something feral clung to the air around her.

“That is… a peculiar appellation,” he said carefully. “Is this Qblh… a lover of yours?”

Ayesha’s interest flared. What had been a smoldering ember became wildfire.

“Perhaps,” she whispered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, “he is someone I have longed to possess. Someone I will claim.”

The hunger in her tone was unmistakable.

Jim met her intensity, his own sharpened by the intrusion. “And what price would you deem worthy for such a claim?”

Her eyes narrowed, calculation flashing behind them.

“If your existence is to remain unbroken,” she said, “then you will take me to Artemis. Without delay.”

The demand hung between them, dense with consequence.

Before he answered, Jim countered, his voice low and edged with authority. “Before I orchestrate your passage, you will answer me. How did you arrive here? How do you know me?”

Ayesha felt the walls closing in.

Qblh stood before her—the legend, the passage, the escape Isis herself had assigned her to watch for. Yet he had appeared without warning, reordering her reality with his mere presence.

“Tell me what I crave to understand about this forsaken era,” Jim said, his voice brooking no defiance, “and I shall sever your chains and return you to Artemis. But first, you will command your people to abandon this island. You will not whisper a word of me to Dagon. Understood.”

His eyes hardened.

“His demise is assured.”

Ayesha shuddered.

Submission to Qblh was a brand burned into her soul. She had witnessed his coronation. She had stood aboard the Pegasus when Artemis hurled itself toward Earth on its boldest mission.

Now she knew—this was the moment.

“I will yield to your price,” she purred, speaking in Jim’s native tongue. She shed her garments deliberately, each motion a calculated invocation. The air thickened with ambrosia, intoxicating and forbidden.

Isis had chosen Ayesha well.

She ruled the arteries of Mediterranean copper and trade, but she felt it now—her dominion here was ending.

“I possess a golden peg,” she whispered. “You must return me to the Pleasure Dome. My sanctuary awaits.”

Jim stiffened.

The truth struck him cold and sharp: he had to return to Artemis. He had been tagged.

Idiot’s presence pressed against his awareness. Tactical maneuvering was no longer optional.

“Then you won’t object if I introduce Genie,” Jim said. “He’s been pacing within the Box—eager, yet wary of your comprehension.”

“The Genie,” Ayesha replied, delight threading her voice. “I would be pleased to entertain him.”

As Genie manifested, her fascination deepened.

“Can he grant my deepest desire?” she whispered.

“We are taking you back to Artemis,” Jim said. “After our consummation, I will claim your golden peg. Is there anything else you crave?”

Her voice trembled with awe. “That is more than I dared dream of yesterday.”

“Tell me of Dagon,” Jim said. “Is his tyranny as suffocating as I suspect?”

“Worse,” she replied hoarsely. “Should I order my people to flee now?”

“The sooner the embers cool, the better,” Jim said. “I will not abandon you.”

Charmed—and bound—she led him to the balcony overlooking the sea.

“Go,” she commanded her counselors. “Take Antiope and Helen to safety on the mainland. Then return for me. I will await you at sunset. Do I have that much time?”

“If not,” Jim said, “I will drag you back from oblivion myself.”

He kissed her—drawing from her lips enough ambrosia to fell ten men.

With ruthless efficiency, Ayesha summoned her advisors. She declared herself the sacrifice, the price of her people’s survival. She sent word to Dagon:

A special surprise awaits you. The Lord of Fire and the Pit will soon stand before your eyes.

She never intended to deliver him.

Instead, she wove deception while her people fled under cover of panic. Dagon would savor their terror—until it was too late.

The promise of witnessing ultimate power proved irresistible. Dagon accepted her offering without hesitation.

She dismissed Qblh publicly as a harmless madman.

“Let him rattle,” she scoffed. “Let the people throw stones at the fool.”

Thus unbound, Qblh stalked the crowds, warning of doom. Ships multiplied as if conjured. Antiope and Helen moved among the people, urging flight.

Eighty percent fled. The wealthy remained, laughing.

At sunset, Ayesha waited.

Idiot warned Jim—the eruption was imminent. The window had closed. Those fleeing would live to tell of an empire’s annihilation.

“You know Isis placed me here to find you,” Ayesha said softly.

“No,” Jim replied. “You know I cannot allow you to remain. I must return you.”

“Either way,” she said, “you will fulfill my wish. Come. I will take you to Dagon.”

“You will not,” Jim said. “I prefer the reputation of a madman.”

Her smile was glacial. “I will present you as my lover. He will witness our union.”

“That will not happen,” Jim said. “Nor will I allow him to spectate.”

“Precisely,” she whispered. “I want him to see me taken from his grasp. That wound will outlast his death.”

She led Jim through shadowed corridors toward Dagon’s sanctum. The earth began to rumble.

“The mountain rages,” Dagon growled. “My viziers say only great magic will appease it.”

Ayesha stepped forward.

“And am I not enough?