At Gelbama Forest

In the cold morning, Omar knelt beside the grave of Hassan, his fingers tracing the letters etched into the cold stone. He had laid white flowers—simple, serene, just as his brother would have liked. The quiet around him felt heavy, pressing down like a weight he could never fully escape. His voice was soft as he spoke.

“Brother,” Omar murmured, brushing dust from the headstone, “I’ve started the job. Ammarah says their claws run deep. I’ll tear them out, one by one. Don’t worry about me. I’ll keep Mom and Dad safe. I’ll keep us all safe.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, the cold earth beneath him a reminder of all he had lost, all he had to protect.

“Omar.” Ammarah’s voice broke the silence, soft yet steady.

He didn’t turn immediately, but when he did, he managed a faint smile. “Yes, princess?”

Her gaze held his, unwavering. “I found him. The mole. His name is Derin Solaga.”

Omar rose slowly, his body stiff from crouching. A smile crept onto his face as he gently patted her shoulder. “Good job, Fairy.”

Ammarah smiled back, though her expression quickly sobered. “It’s my duty, but you need to be careful. We’re surrounded by enemies.”

Omar chuckled softly. “Remaan’s surrounded by mountains too, but they don’t fall just because they loom over the city.”

Ammarah’s expression darkened, her brow furrowing. “This isn’t a game, Omar. They’ll destroy you if they get the chance.”

Omar’s eyes blazed with a quiet intensity. “I know,” he said, his tone now serious. “You were the one who told me, ‘I’ll turn you into the Axen they’ve never faced before.’ And I will be. I’m not as strong with the stone yet, not like I need to be. But I’m clever, and I plan ahead. I don’t make a move without having five strategies ready to go" And most importantly,” he looked at her, his gaze softening for just a moment, “I have you.”

With that he took a step toward the car. “Find out if he’s at home. Alone, or with family?”

“He’s home. With family,” Ammarah replied, her voice edged with concern.

Omar opened the car door, nodding as he climbed in. “Hmm. Good. I have a plan.” He glanced at her with a wink. “But first, I’ve got something for you.”

Ammarah raised an eyebrow but followed him into the car without a word.

A little while later, Omar’s car pulled to a stop by the roadside. Ammarah watched him disappear, the minutes dragging as she waited. When he returned, he carried a shopping bag, a playful glint in his eyes.

“What’s this?” she asked as he settled into his seat.

Omar pulled a phone box from the bag. “A phone,” he said, opening the box and expertly inserting a SIM card. He powered it on and handed it to her. “You’ll be around me most of the time, I know. But still, you should have this.”

Ammarah stared at the device, her purple eyes reflecting the glow from the screen. “I’ve never used a phone before.”

Omar smiled, reaching into the bag again. He pulled out a small box of sweets and handed it to her. “I heard Jinns like sweets. Thought I’d get some for you.”

Her lips curved into a smile as she took the box. “Thank you, Omar. It’s… kind of you.”

He shrugged, his tone light. “By the way, I figure you’ll manage with the phone. My memories should help you.”

Ammarah met his gaze, her eyes softening. “Yes,” she said, then turned more serious. “Hold my hands.”

Omar hesitated only a moment before reaching out, grasping her warm hands. He furrowed his brows, “You’re hot.”

Ammarah narrowed her eyes, raising an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

He blinked, then hurriedly clarified, “I mean, your temperature. Are you feeling alright?”

She smirked, shaking her head slightly. “This is normal for us. Now, focus.”

Omar nodded, his teasing demeanor fading as he steadied himself. Her warmth, a subtle reminder of her otherworldly nature, spread through him as she concentrated.

At Derin Solaga's Place

Ammarah sat in the passenger seat, nibbling on the sweets with an almost childlike pleasure, guiding Omar through the labyrinthine streets of Remaan. The narrow alleys twisted and turned, their dimly lit paths barely wide enough for the car. After a few minutes of navigating, Ammarah pointed to a small, unassuming house tucked between two taller buildings. “That’s his home,” she said quietly, her gaze focused.

Omar reversed the car slightly, positioning it neatly behind a row of parked vehicles, careful not to attract attention. He glanced over at Ammarah, who was still enjoying the sweets, her lips curved into a small smile. It was a rare sight, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

She looked at him, eyebrows raised. “What?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Nothing. Just... maybe save some for later.”

She grinned and placed the box on the dashboard. “Alright. So, what’s the plan?”

Omar turned toward her, his voice lowering. “You go in, keep an eye on him. The moment he’s alone in a room, or anywhere we can get him, you let me know.” He pulled out a small earbud from his jacket pocket. “Use this to communicate.”

Ammarah nodded, sliding the earbud into her ear as Omar did the same. He dialed her number, their phones connecting with a soft beep. As soon as the connection was established, Ammarah’s figure shimmered briefly and then vanished entirely from sight.

He watched the faint distortion of air where she had been moments ago, his pulse quickening. The hunt was on.

Noor’s Mansion

Noor’s sleek sedan pulled into the grand driveway of her family’s mansion. The gates, tall and ornate, swung open smoothly. The mansion stood tall and elegant, its structure a seamless blend of modern architecture and old-world charm. White marble columns lined the front, leading up to a massive oak door, flanked by statues of lions that seemed to guard the entrance with silent vigilance.

The lawn was immaculate—lush green grass stretching out in every direction, dotted with perfectly pruned rose bushes and tall, slender trees. A cobblestone pathway led from the driveway to a fountain in the center of the courtyard, where water cascaded down in a graceful arc, catching the light and sending tiny rainbows dancing across the stone.

As Noor entered the mansion, the scale of luxury deepened. The floor was polished marble, and the grand chandelier overhead sparkled with thousands of crystals, casting prisms of light across the expansive foyer. The walls were adorned with large oil paintings, each framed in intricate gold. A grand staircase spiraled upwards. Plush Persian rugs lay underfoot, their patterns rich with reds and golds, adding warmth to the otherwise vast, opulent space.

Her father, Aamaan, stood at the foot of the stairs, a soft smile tugging at his lips. His hair had turned silver with age, but his posture was still straight and strong. Dressed in a sharp black suit, he radiated an air of authority that was softened only when his eyes met Noor’s.

“Oh, my princess has come home,” he said, his voice warm with affection.

Noor smiled back, walking toward him, “Good morning, Baba,” she said, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. The familiar scent of his cologne brought a sense of comfort, a reminder of childhood security.

Aamaan kissed her forehead and pulled back, his hands still resting on her shoulders. “I feel alive again, seeing you.”

They moved to sit in the spacious living room, where a grand piano stood by the window, untouched but polished to gleam under the noon sun. The silence was interrupted by the soft click of heels as a woman entered the room. She was dressed in an elegant red gown, her movements graceful as she approached.

“Hello, Noor,” the woman said with a smile.

Noor’s expression immediately shifted. The warmth that had filled her moments ago disappeared, her smile fading into a cold, distant look. She gave a curt nod, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“Alia,” Noor replied, her voice devoid of any warmth.

Alia glanced at Aamaan before offering Noor a strained smile. “I’ll be right here if you need anything,” she said softly, before turning and walking out of the room.

Once she was gone, Aamaan, turning to Noor with a look of gentle reproach. “My princess,” he began, his tone pleading, “please be kind to her. She’s your mother now.”

Noor’s gaze hardened, her jaw tightening as she corrected him, “Stepmother.”

Aamaan sighed again, more heavily this time, but pulled her close. “She cares about you,” he said softly, though the weariness in his voice told a different story. “Just give her a chance.”

Noor didn’t respond, her thoughts swirling with memories of a time before Alia—a time when her family felt whole. She rested her head on her father’s shoulder, allowing the silence to fill the space between them.

Inside Derin's Home

Ammarah sat silently on the small, worn couch in Derin Solaga's modest living room. Invisible to the world. Derin, a stocky man with thinning hair, was focused intently on the football match playing on the small TV. The volume was turned up, almost drowning out the quiet chatter of his family as they prepared to leave. His wife, a slender woman with tired eyes, was ushering their two children—a boy and a little girl—toward the door.

Meanwhile, Omar sat in his car, his fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel. “What’s going on in there?” he asked, his voice crackling through the earbud.

Ammarah, eyes still fixed on the screen, replied casually, “His wife and kids are about to leave. It won’t be long now.”

Omar tapped the steering wheel with a little more force. “Now that’s the news I’ve been waiting for.”

Moments later, Derin’s wife entered the living room, herding the children ahead of her. She stopped briefly by her husband, who glanced at her with little more than mild disinterest.

“We’re going now, honey. Come meet us later, alright?” she said, the routine in her voice clear.

Derin gave a distracted nod, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Yeah, yeah, see you later,” he muttered.

The door clicked shut behind them, and Omar, watching from the car, saw the family disappear down the street, walking in the opposite direction. He leaned forward slightly, peeking out of the window to confirm their departure. “They’re gone,” he said into the earbud.

Inside, Ammarah stretched, rising from her invisible perch beside Derin. “Now what?” she asked, her voice a quiet whisper in Omar’s ear.

Omar smirked, his tone mischievous. “Hypnotize him with those killer eyes of yours.”

Ammarah couldn’t help but smile, shaking her head slightly as she moved behind Derin, her hand hovering just above his head. Her fingers brushed lightly against his scalp, her presence seeping into his mind, weaving through his thoughts until he was completely under her control. His body stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, his eyes growing distant, like a puppet waiting for strings to pull him.

“Do you know the Harzams?” she whispered, her voice dripping with an eerie calmness.

Derin’s response was robotic, devoid of any will of his own. “No.”

Ammarah’s brow furrowed slightly in concentration. “Do you remember the two letters to Omar Azdar?”

Derin’s vacant eyes flickered, and he nodded. “Yes, I do.”

Ammarah leaned in closer, “You took pictures of them. Who did you send them to?”

“To Master Lyn,” he answered mechanically.

Ammarah’s grip on his mind tightened. “What’s his real name?”

“I don’t know anything about him,” came the flat response.

Frustration flashed in her eyes. “Do you know anyone else like him?”

Derin shook his head slowly, his face blank.

Ammarah sighed, her mind reaching out to Omar. “He doesn’t know Lyn’s real name.”

In the car, Omar closed his eyes briefly, thinking. A plan formed quickly, and when he spoke again, his voice carried an unsettling calmness. “Tell him to call Lyn. Tell him Axen is walking down his street right now. Knocking on his door.”

Ammarah’s eyes widened, her grip on Derin loosening for a moment. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Yes,” Omar said, his tone serious. “Do it.”

“No, I won’t,” Ammarah protested, her tone sharp with disbelief.

Omar’s voice hardened. “That’s an order from the Guardian. Do it, and don't forget to get Lyn’s contact information.”

Ammarah let out an aggressive sigh, her frustration evident. “I hate you,” she muttered, though her tone held a reluctant acceptance. Reluctantly, she tightened her mental hold on Derin once again, guiding his movements as he retrieved his phone from the coffee table in front of him. His hand trembled slightly as he scrolled through the contacts and pressed the call button.

The line rang twice before Lyn’s voice came through, cold and detached. “What happened?” came the terse reply.

Derin’s voice was shaky, trembling as Ammarah forced the words from his mouth. “Sir... A-Axen is knocking on my door. Please, save me. He’ll kill me.”

There was a brief pause on the other end before Lyn spoke again, his voice sharp and commanding. “What? Wait, hide somewhere. We’re coming.” The line went dead.

Ammarah let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, releasing her control over Derin. He slumped slightly in his seat, eyes still glazed. She relayed the call to Omar. “It’s done. He’s terrified.”

“Good,” Omar replied, "It's time to meet them." he whispered.

Back at Noor’s Mansion

Noor sat comfortably beside her father. A soft breeze filtered through the open windows, carrying the scent of flowers. As the conversation between Noor and Aamaan flowed, a young man entered the room. Salman, with a charming smile, approached Noor, his presence slightly interrupting the moment.

“Hello, Noor,” he said, his tone cheerful.

Noor offered him a polite but distant smile. “Hello,” she replied.

Aamaan glanced at Salman, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Hmm, what is it?” he asked.

Salman leaned in closer, whispering something into Aamaan’s ear. The old man nodded thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. With a casual wave of his hand, he gestured for Salman to leave. Salman nodded in acknowledgment and swiftly exited the room.

Noor watched the exchange with curiosity, her brow slightly furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

Aamaan looked at her, a warm smile spreading across his face as he coughed lightly. “Everything is perfect when you’re here, my princess,” he said, his voice filled with affection.

Noor’s eyes softened, though a small cloud of concern lingered. There were things her father wasn’t telling her, but she let it pass for now.

Axen at Derin’s Home

The scene inside Derin Solaga’s house had shifted dramatically. Axen, no longer the subtle infiltrator, now sat casually on the worn couch, his feet propped on the coffee table.

Minutes later, the door burst open, splintering from the force. Lyn, accompanied by Alvar and Devor, stormed into the room, their movements sharp and calculated. Their eyes locked onto Axen immediately, but he remained seated, calm, almost relaxed, as if they were arriving late to a dinner party rather than a showdown.

Axen looked at them, “Will you guys not bow down to the new Guardian?”