Omar and Zain sat in silence, the soft crackle of the fire the only sound in the living room. The warmth from the hearth did little to thaw the chill of grief that lingered between them. Omar’s eyes, still red and swollen from tears, were fixed on the Guardian and Black Circe stones in his hands, their glow casting faint shadows over his face.

After a long, heavy pause, Omar sighed and turned to Zain. "Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice low, laced with uncertainty.

Zain straightened in his seat, his eyes softening as he met his friend’s gaze. "Of course I do," he replied without hesitation.

Omar nodded, his lips curving into a slight, sad smile. "And can I trust you?"

Zain smiled back, his expression filled with quiet assurance. "I'm leaving that decision to you. But know this: I’m always with you. No one will ever hear a word about those stones from me."

Omar’s smile widened, though grief still clouded his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. "Find me a flat, will you? I’ll move in a few days."

Zain nodded. "Consider it done."

Unbeknownst to them, Ammarah, invisible and heartbroken, stood in the room with them. Her eyes locked on the stones in Omar’s hands before she turned away, her own sorrow overwhelming.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, shattering the quiet moment. Omar straightened as Zain rose to answer it. "I’ll check," he said, walking toward the door. When he opened it, he was greeted by a figure whose face was obscured, save for her piercing eyes. His heart raced.

"Yes?" he muttered, unsure.

The woman’s voice was steady, yet filled sadness. "I’m here to see Omar," she said, her eyes unwavering as they bore into his.

Zain’s mind raced. He didn’t recognize her, but he knew he couldn’t take any chances. "Omar? I don't know any Omar," he lied, trying to conceal his unease.

Ammarah sighed, her patience wearing thin. "Tell him Ammarah wants to meet him."

The name struck Zain like a lightning bolt. Hassan had spoken of her. "Wait here," he whispered before stepping back and letting her in.

Ammarah followed silently as Zain led her into the living room. Omar stood before the fire, lost in thought, his back to them. "Who is she?" he asked, not bothering to turn around.

Before Zain could speak, Ammarah stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. "I am Ammarah, your brother’s right hand."

Zain hesitated before quietly excusing himself. "I’ll be in your room, Omar. Good night."

Omar nodded, then stepped closer to Ammarah, studying her with narrowed eyes. Her purple eyes with their vertical pupils sent a shiver down his spine. "What are you?" he asked, his voice edged with suspicion.

She lowered her gaze briefly before answering, "I am a Jinnaya."

Omar inhaled sharply, processing her words. "Why should I trust you?" he demanded, his expression hardening.

Ammarah met his gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Because your brother did." She pulled a letter from her robe and handed it to him. "He wrote this for you, just before their attack."

With trembling hands, Omar took the letter and unfolded it. As he read, tears welled up in his eyes. When he finally finished, he looked at her, his voice barely above a whisper. "How do I use these stones?"

Ammarah’s expression softened. "You’ll only use the Black Circe stone, which will make you Axen. Your task is to protect both the Guardian stone and the Black diamond Circe from them. Trust no one. They’re everywhere—controlling the government, the system, everything. And the first person they’ll come for is you, because you’re Hassan’s brother. You have to be strong, Omar." She paused, her gaze hardening. "You know, I told him choosing you was a mistake. I said you were arrogant and irresponsible, but he trusted you. Now, prove to them that you aren’t the one with the stones. I’ll train you. I’ll make you into an Axen they’ve never faced before."

Omar smiled faintly. "Thank you, Ammarah. I’ll make them pay for what they did to my brother. I promise."

Ammarah nodded, her voice resolute. "You’re the Guardian now. Let’s talk about the stone and its powers."

They both took a seat by the fire, Ammarah leaned forward. "The Circe stone carries multiple powers, some in full, others partially. Your stone holds the power of Red Fire, its destructive force being its main strength. It also contains Air power and illusion, healing from Green Fire, the speed of Purple Thunder, shape-changing from Water, and Ice’s protective shield. It will give you superhuman strength, but these powers are linked to your mind, activated through specific command words."

Omar listened intently, his brow furrowed. "Brother mentioned in the letter that the powers can be used in two ways. What does that mean?"

Ammarah nodded. "Each power can be used as both a weapon for attack and for harnessing its true essence. But Omar, you must learn to control the stone without commands. It will strengthen your mind, making it impossible for Robis or anyone else to control you or even see what’s inside your head."

Omar absorbed her words, "I’ll do whatever it takes."

Ammarah’s voice softened. "Good. But for now, rest. Control your emotions, your anger. Remember, the moment they sense weakness, they’ll come for you. Training begins tomorrow, and it won’t be easy. But I’ll be around, always watching."

Omar nodded, his thoughts already far ahead, preparing for the fight to come.

Whispers of Suspicion

Robis sat on his crimson throne, its vivid color reflecting the twisted fire of his ambitions. The long room, draped in shadows. His eyes were cold, calculating, as he stared into the dim space before him. A sharp knock broke the silence.

"Come," he commanded.

Lyn entered the room, bowing slightly. "Master, I bring good news." His voice held a note of urgency, eager to please. "I’ve discovered that Hassan had a brother. There’s a possibility he has the stones."

Robis's gaze sharpened, locking onto Lyn. "But what if he doesn’t? What if Hassan hid them, or worse, passed them on to someone else?"

Lyn cleared his throat, his confidence faltering. "If you allow it, Master, should I visit him? Perhaps question him?"

Robis shook his head, a smirk forming on his lips. "No. If he doesn’t have the stones, we risk exposing ourselves. His brother may be among our sympathizers. Visit him, but do it under the guise of the police. Take actual officers with you. Watch his reaction closely. Use your... empty mind to judge him. Discretion is key."

Lyn nodded, feeling both relieved and nervous. "As you wish, Master." With that, he turned and left the room.

Robis leaned back into his throne, exhaling sharply. His fingers drummed against the armrests, his voice a dark whisper. "Axen... Axen... Axen..."

Noor’s Restless Night

In the quiet of her room, Noor lay sprawled on her bed, scrolling absentmindedly through her social media feed. Her mind was only half-engaged with the flickering images and posts until a familiar face appeared on her screen.

Omar.

The photo showed him leaning casually against his sleek black car, dressed in a fitted black shirt and pants. His expression was serious, almost brooding. Noor's thumb brushed past the picture, but something tugged at her. She quickly scrolled back, staring at the image for a long moment.

Her heart skipped a beat. She zoomed in on the photo, her eyes tracing his features, the set of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes. A slight smile crept across her lips before she caught herself.

With a sigh, she shook her head, pushing the thoughts away. Placing her phone on the side table, she turned over, pulling the blanket closer. Her mind swirled with unspoken thoughts as she closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep.

The Weight of Silence

Morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting long shadows over the room. Omar sat on the sofa, his gaze lost in the flickering embers of the fire. The sound of the front door unlocking snapped him out of his thoughts.

He stood up, moving toward the door as it opened. His parents had returned. Arham held a few shopping bags in his hands, and Elif smiled warmly at him.

"Good morning, son," Elif greeted, her eyes soft with motherly warmth. "I didn’t expect you to be awake so early."

Omar forced a smile. Without a word, he stepped forward and embraced his mother, closing his eyes tightly, as if holding on would make the ache disappear.

Arham and Elif exchanged confused glances. "What’s wrong, son?" Arham asked, concern evident in his voice.

Omar pulled back, his smile brittle. "Nothing... I just missed you both," he replied, his voice wavering slightly.

Elif cupped his face gently, her thumb brushing over his pale skin. "You don’t look well, Omar. Did you sleep at all? Something’s wrong—I can feel it. I had a strange feeling all day yesterday."

Omar chuckled weakly, doing his best to mask the turmoil within. "See, this is why I keep my distance. When I’m quiet, you both think I don’t love you. But when I hug you and say I missed you, you’re convinced something’s wrong."

Arham laughed, trying to lighten the mood. "Alright, alright, we won’t push. Let’s go inside, then."

Omar nodded, following them into the house.

Zain came down from upstairs, his face brightening as he saw Omar’s parents. "Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Azdar," he greeted with a grin.

"Good morning, Zain," Arham replied warmly. "Come, I’ve brought breakfast. Join us."

They all gathered around the dining table, the warm aroma of food filling the air. Omar did his best to maintain a facade of normalcy, engaging in light conversation. But every smile, every laugh, felt forced. Beneath the surface, his heart was a storm of grief, burning with the memory of his brother and revenge.

At College 

Omar and Zain walked quietly through the bustling college campus, the weight of recent events heavy on their shoulders. Omar’s once arrogant demeanor had vanished, replaced by a quiet intensity. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, and his gaze was fixed on the ground, lost in his thoughts. Zain, sensing his friend’s need for space, kept pace beside him without a word.

Ahead of them, Noor and her best friend Anum strolled in the opposite direction. Anum paused to chat with another girl, leaving Noor distracted by her phone, walking alone. In his preoccupation, Omar didn’t notice her, and once again, their paths collided.

Noor, startled, looked up sharply, her fiery eyes meeting Omar’s. "Now who's doing it on purpose?" she asked, her voice edged with irritation, though there was an unmistakable flicker of curiosity behind her frustration.

Omar stood still for a moment, their eyes locked. His usual snide retort didn’t come. Instead, he simply lowered his gaze, his voice soft and subdued. "I’m sorry." Without another word, he walked past her, leaving Noor standing in surprise, her confusion etched across her face as she turned to watch him retreat.

Anum, noticing the encounter, called out as Omar passed. "Hey, Omar!"

Omar’s gaze shifted toward her, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Anum," he greeted, shaking her hand briefly. "Good to see you. We’ll talk later." He nodded and continued walking, Zain trailing behind, exchanging a quick glance with Anum before catching up.

Noor, still watching Omar’s retreating figure, turned to her friend. "You know him?"

Anum nodded, glancing back at him. "Omar? Yeah, we went to school together. He's a good guy, just... complicated."

Noor’s expression softened as she absorbed the name. "So, his name is Omar..." she murmured, her curiosity deepening.

In Class

Omar entered the classroom quietly, an unusual sight for his classmates. Normally, his entrance was loud and confident, drawing attention with his swagger. But today, he moved silently, his demeanor somber. He took a seat near the back, folding into himself as if trying to escape notice. His silence filled the room, an unsettling contrast to his usual presence.

Ms. Ayesha, the teacher, noticed the shift immediately. She arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she addressed him. "Omar... Are you really here? I thought I was seeing things. Usually, your presence ensures the class is anything but peaceful." Her voice was sharp, laced with a taunting edge.

Omar looked up at her, his expression unreadable. He simply nodded, offering no comeback, no smirk.

Ms. Ayesha narrowed her eyes, sensing something off. "What happened? Did Mr. Azdar give you a proper talking to? That’s the only thing that could change you so drastically."

Omar rose from his seat, his eyes steady and calm as he walked toward her. His voice, though quiet, carried a weight that silenced the room. "No, Ms. Ayesha. My father didn’t change me." He paused, the words heavy on his tongue. "Loss changed me." With that, he turned and left the classroom.

Noor, seated across the room, watched him go, her mind racing with questions she didn’t yet know how to ask.

The Visit

The afternoon light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over Omar's room. He sat on the edge of his bed, weighed down by the grief and responsibility that now rested on his shoulders. Across from him, Ammarah sat in a chair by the study table, her face concealed beneath her hood, only her eyes visible beneath the shadow.

"Omar," her voice was gentle but firm, "I know you're hurting. But you must act normal. Just like before. Pretend nothing has changed." She paused, her purple eyes locking onto his, searching for some sign of resolve. "I’ve been watching you all day. You’re not ready to face them, so don’t give them any reason to suspect you have the stones."

Omar let out a deep breath, nodding as her words sank in. Before he could respond, the sudden ring of the doorbell cut through the air. His heart skipped a beat as he instinctively stood and moved toward the window. Peeking through the curtains, his blood ran cold at the sight of a police car parked outside their home.

"Police?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Ammarah’s gaze sharpened, her voice dropping into a tense murmur. "They’re Robis’s men."

Omar turned toward her, his mind racing. Without hesitation, he opened the drawer of his bedside table, retrieving both stones—his connection to the unimaginable power they held. He stepped forward and pressed them into Ammarah's hands. "Take them. Protect them. We’ll meet later."

As he moved to leave, Ammarah’s hand shot out, gripping his arm. Her eyes softened for a moment, but her tone remained steady. "Omar. Act normal. Be strong."

Omar nodded, summoning a deep breath to calm the storm inside him. He forced himself to straighten, trying to push aside the panic gnawing at his insides. He knew this moment would be crucial. One wrong move, one slip of control, and everything could fall apart.

He left the room, his steps purposeful, yet his mind was racing, already preparing himself for what lay ahead.