Shadow

Chapter 1
Moonlit Night

Amid an ordinary life full of daily struggles, where the weight of responsibilities presses equally on the rich and poor, the young and old, men and women alike—people travel far from their homes and families just to make a living.

The company bus returns after another exhausting day at a remote desert-side workplace. Leaning her head against the window, a young woman of twenty-four, Asma, a junior research chemist, sits silently. Work has drained her energy, yet that is not her greatest burden. She has no friends, no relatives—only her ailing grandfather, the man who raised her since childhood, now fighting for his life in the hospital.

The monotonous hum of car engines on the highway is broken by the sharp ring of her phone. It’s her neighbor, Sondos. Asma answers quickly:

• “Sondos! What is it?! My grandfather… is he okay?”
• “No… Asma… p-please, come quickly!” Sondos’s voice breaks into sobs.

Upon reaching the hospital, Asma bursts through the door, drenched in sweat, sprinting toward the intensive care unit, her cries echoing, tears blurring her vision as though her whole world is collapsing.

• “Grandfather! Please don’t leave me!”
• “Silly girl… this is the way of life, haha…”

He laughs faintly, a laugh broken by illness, then smiles:

• “I entrust you, my little Simsim… don’t think I’ll abandon you so easily. I’ve left you tricks—hidden puzzles that will drive you mad with wonder! The cabinet… the cabinet, my dear…”

He exhales his last breath with the shahada on his lips.

Her heart shatters. With his passing, her world crumbles.

The funeral and condolences blur past like a dream. Life feels unbearably heavy. What meaning does it have now?

She returns home—silence, loneliness, and darkness are all that greet her. Her neighbors, Suad and her daughter Sondos, try to care for her, urging her to eat, to rest, but to no avail.

Asma sits alone in her room, eyes swollen from endless weeping. For hours she lies awake, staring at the ceiling, until sleep finally claims her.

...

She slowly opens her eyes. Only the ticking of an old pendulum clock breaks the silence.

She sits up. Something feels… strange.

• “This… this is odd! Isn’t this my room? But… that old pendulum clock—it broke back in middle school! Haha… maybe I’ve started hallucinating.”

The furniture, too, is different—like she’s been thrown back in time. She realizes then: she must be dreaming.

She relaxes into it, surrendering to the embrace of memory, even if only in a dream.

Through the balcony curtains, swaying softly with the cool night breeze, she sees the moon, shining gently into the darkness of her heart.

• “Are you my friend now?”

But suddenly, a dark speck eclipses the light. It grows larger—revealing itself as a black cloak.

Her heart races. “What is this?” she whispers, stepping back, eyes wide, until the figure becomes clear: a tall man, his face shadowed beneath the hood of his dark robe.

He steps closer to the balcony glass and smiles faintly, then lowers his hood. Black hair, long and silky, tumbles down past his ears to his shoulders.

Asma freezes—not from fear, but from awe. His features are impossibly handsome, his stature regal, his presence majestic—like a king, or a creature out of legend. His sharp eyes, his somber face, his stoic mouth… yet beneath it all lies nobility, raw and undeniable, like the spirit of an untamed Arabian steed.

And then—he bows. A deep, ceremonial bow, one of reverence reserved for royalty. The movement is hesitant, as though he has never bowed to anyone before.

• “Who are you?”
• “My lady… I am called Shadow. From this moment forth, I am your servant and your loyal guardian.”

He extends his hand to her with elegant grace.

• “Shall we enjoy a moment under the moonlight?”

Asma, for a fleeting instant, is enchanted. She reaches for his hand.

• “Alright…”

But she quickly snaps back, her reason returning.

• “Wait! Who are you really? And why does this dream feel so real? This… this is suspicious!”
• “I am Shadow. Your servant and loyal guardian… and no, this is not a dream. It is closer to an illusion… compared to your real world. Now, tell me—shall we spend some time under the moonlight?”

She glares at him, shouting:

• “Who in hell are you?!”
• “My lady, I am Shaaaadow, from this—”
• “Wait, wait, wait! I know this kind of nonsense… this must be a dream. My dreams are always ridiculous like this. I just need to wake up! Yes—that’s it! If I look at the clock and the numbers aren’t clear, that’ll prove I’m dreaming!”

She rushes back into her room.

• “Wait, my lady! … Your Highness!”

He’s pulled along after her as if bound to her, stumbling into a wall. She doesn’t notice, too focused on the clock.

The time reads—3:00 a.m. Clear as day.

• “What? The numbers are perfectly clear…!”

Her confusion deepens.

• “Hey—you! Can you help me by hitting me, so I’ll wake up?”

He looks at her with mocking amusement, like a king forced to act beneath his station, then answers with feigned servitude:

• “My lady, such an indecent request is unworthy of a refined and noble lady like you. And besides, I am now your servant. I would sooner die than strike you!”

Her doubt grows, panic setting in.

• “Fine then! Oh Shadow, my loyal servant! Throw me out the window instead!”

His eyes darken, a cold, twisted smile forming. He speaks with a voice both mocking and ominous:

• “Do you mean… cast you out?”

He steps closer, his tone turning into a teasing whisper in her ear, laced with temptation.

• “Or shall we go together… to spend time beneath the moonlight?”

She laughs nervously, muttering to herself: “What a ridiculous flirt…”

• “Yes, yes—throw me out into the moonlight!” she orders.

He smirks mischievously. “As you wish, my lady.”

With sudden speed, he lifts her in his arms, carries her to the balcony, and tosses her outward.

She screams: “No! No no no noooooo!”

But before she falls, Shadow catches her again, chuckling darkly.

• “Not a dream anymore, is it?”

He casts off his cloak, wrapping her inside it from head to toe.

Now, Asma realizes fully—this isn’t a dream. Death feels close, fear gnaws at her. What is happening? What is she caught in?

Shadow interrupts her spiraling thoughts with playful sarcasm:

• “My lady, you were always better at flying… but this? Hmmm… perhaps you’ve invented a new style. Free fall.”

She looks up—her body is suspended, clutched by his unseen force. Together they soar through the moonlit sky, like phantoms drifting above the world.

She whispers, in awe: “What… are you?”

• “My lady, my name is Shadow. From now on, I am your servant and your loyal guardian. But if you mean what I am as a being… I am your shadow—the one that has followed you since the day you were born.”
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