He was looking at me with wide, unblinking eyes. ‘Who is your father, little Demdji?’ he asked.

‘Why does that matter?’ I asked.

‘You asked me who I was.’ He hadn’t blinked at all; it was unsettling. ‘Mortal memories are short, but surely not so short that you’ve already forgotten that. Tell me who you are and I’ll tell you who I am.’ So it was a trade he wanted. Except I knew better than to take it at face value. Djinn traded in tricks and deceit. If I gave him anything, he might gain the upper hand on me. But if I didn’t give him anything, I might not gain anything. I didn’t have a whole lot of time to waste debating. On the other side of that wall, Sam was counting the minutes.

‘Bahadur. My father is Bahadur.’ A sly smile came over his face, like he’d finally solved a puzzle he’d been working at for a long time. ‘Your turn,’ I said quickly.

‘Well, daughter of Bahadur –’ he drew out my father’s name – ‘I used to have a name, it’s true. A long time ago. Before you were born. Before even your oldest ancestor was made,’ he said. ‘But it was taken from me some time ago. I am known without a name now. I am called only the Sin Maker.’

Chapter 23

I sucked in a breath so quickly the match went out. The Sin Maker’s laugh filled the darkness that rushed back in around us, bouncing off the walls as I fumbled to find another.

There were stories of all the Djinn going by a hundred different names. Bahadur was also known as the Once King of Massil, the Maker of the Sand Sea, and the Breaker of Abbadon. But the Sin Maker wasn’t just another campfire story. His tale wasn’t that of a greedy mortal outwitted by a First Being, or a wish granted to a worthy beggar, or even a Djinni falling in love with a princess.

The Sin Maker was from the Holy Books.

After the Destroyer of Worlds brought death into an immortal world, and the Djinn created mortality, one Djinni created sin. He betrayed all of humanity. Though he stood with the other Djinn when they created the First Hero, he did not celebrate with his brethren when they succeeded in making mortals to challenge their enemy. Instead, while the others revelled in their victory, the Sin Maker slipped away and sought to kill the First Hero before he could challenge the Destroyer of Worlds. If he had succeeded, he would have stopped the world’s only hope. But the other Djinn caught him before he could slay their creation. And when they did, the Djinn knew one of their own must’ve made a deal with the Destroyer of Worlds behind their backs to challenge them thus.

He was a traitor to his own kind. The first traitor the world ever knew.

I finally found another match. I struck it, trying to keep my hands steady. It was useless; the flame trembled.

‘They say …’ I hesitated, not sure what to ask first. They say you’ve been banished to be imprisoned among the stars. But I could see that wasn’t true. ‘They say you betrayed the First Hero.’ It came out an accusation.

‘They do say that,’ he agreed. He tilted his head, those fiery eyes raking across me. ‘You look a little bit like the First Hero, you know,’ he said. ‘You would think that after thousands of years I could forget her face. But I see her every moment I sit here in the dark. That is a worse punishment than these chains.’

Had he just said her? I thought of every image I’d ever seen of the First Hero, illuminated on manuscripts, painted on tiles in prayer houses. All of them a dark-haired, armoured man, wielding a sword. But the Sin Maker had been there. ‘The First Mortal was a woman?’

‘Of course. My immortal brethren lost their lives in the thousands when we faced the Destroyer of Worlds. We knew we were no match for her. So we didn’t create a soldier in our own image; we made one in hers.’ His ember eyes took on a far-off look. ‘Her hair was like the night, her skin was like the sand, and for her eyes, we stole the colour from the sky itself.’ He drifted back to the present. ‘And I didn’t betray her. I loved her.

‘I loved her before any of my brethren knew love. So I tried to keep her away from death. She was too brave for her own good. I feared she would die trying to face the Destroyer of Worlds. But my brethren didn’t know what it was to love yet, especially not to love something that would die.’ His eyes swept across me. ‘And now the whole world is marked by their hypocrisy.’ He despised me, I realised. Because of what I was. Proof that one of the Djinn who had punished him for loving a mortal woman had found a mortal woman to love, too. ‘I suppose they know now what it is to be afraid for another. But back then they only knew selfish fear. Fear of their own death, not of the death of another. And she was a shield from that. Made to be used, not saved.’

The flame had burned down to my fingers without me noticing. The snap of heat made me drop the match in surprise, and it snuffed out as it hit the ground.

The Sin Maker didn’t stop speaking as I fumbled for a fresh match.

‘My brethren locked me in here to keep me from protecting the First Hero at the cost of their own lives.’ His voice echoed through the dark. ‘They set a mortal guard outside, and they left him with an endless supply of food and drink so that he never left his post.’ The chest that Noorsham had found. ‘The guard was to visit me once a year and ask me if I was sorry for betraying my own kind.’ I knew the story. The Sin Maker was doomed to be apart from the earth until the day he atoned for his sin. ‘Only when I said I was sorry would I be released.’