The night felt too quiet.
Tahir walked beside Layla and Amira through the narrow mountain path. The wind had stopped, and even the stars seemed to hide behind the clouds. Kasira, his horse, walked behind them without a sound.
"Something is wrong," Layla whispered, touching the side of the mountain wall. "The air is heavy."
Amira, still weak from her strange vision, held Layla's hand tightly. Her eyes had not turned gold again, but she had not spoken since the attack.
Tahir kept his scimitar close. His body still ached from the wounds, but something inside him burned stronger than the pain. It was not anger. It was something else. Something rising.
Suddenly, a shadow jumped down from the rocks above. A masked rider, dressed in black, swung his sword.
Tahir pushed Amira aside and blocked the blow.
More shadows moved in the dark. Five… no, six men. Trained. Silent. Eyes full of hate.
"They followed us!" Layla shouted.
"I'll stop them," Tahir said, stepping forward.
"You can't fight them alone!" Layla pulled Amira back into a small cave opening.
Tahir didn't listen.
He moved fast. Blade flashing. One attacker fell with a cry. Another slashed at his leg, but Tahir turned just in time.
A third man raised a dagger behind him.
Tahir turned too slow.
The dagger came down.
But it stopped mid-air.
Frozen. Hanging in place like it had hit a wall of air.
The man's face twisted in fear. "What is this?!"
Tahir's hands glowed—faint blue light wrapping around his fingers. He didn't know why, or how. He just felt it.
He pushed his hand forward.
A wave of wind blasted from his palm. The masked man flew back into the rocks, hitting with a loud crack.
Silence.
Then, the others ran.
Tahir stood still, chest rising and falling, his glowing hands shaking. The light slowly faded.
"What… was that?" Layla stepped out of the cave, staring at him.
"I don't know," he said. "I didn't plan it. It just happened."
Amira walked to him and gently touched his arm. "It's starting," she whispered. "The desert remembers who you are."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
But the girl only looked at the sky.
A soft rumble shook the ground.
The wind returned.
Layla looked worried. "We need to keep moving. If the scroll reacts to you, others will feel it."
Tahir looked down at his hands. He didn't understand it. But something inside had changed.
And he was afraid of it.
Later that Night…
They camped near an old ruin, broken stones carved with forgotten symbols. Layla set up herbs and medicine for Amira, who was finally asleep. Tahir sat alone, staring at the stars.
He didn't know how to feel.
"Magic," he said to himself. "Me?"
He thought back to the scroll. The heat it gave. The words Amira had spoken in that strange voice.
Maybe it was more than just an old story. Maybe it really did hold a prophecy.
He closed his eyes.
Suddenly, he was in a dream.
But it didn't feel like a dream.
He stood in a place of fire and sand. The sky above was red, the sun burning like a bleeding eye. A tower rose in the distance—made of bone and stone.
In front of it stood a man dressed in black and gold, his eyes like knives.
"Do you think you can stop me?" the man asked.
Tahir tried to speak, but no words came.
The man held up a scroll—the scroll.
"It belongs to me," the voice echoed. "You are only a shadow."
Then the scroll turned to flame in the man's hands.
Tahir reached out, but the fire wrapped around him.
He screamed-
And woke up.
He was sweating. Breathing hard.
Layla was awake now, looking at him with worry. "You saw something, didn't you?"
He nodded. "A man… wearing gold and black. He had the scroll. He burned it."
Layla's face turned pale. "That's Malik Zahari."
Amira sat up; eyes half-open. "He's coming. But you… you have fire in you now. You must learn to control it."
Tahir said nothing.
The sand outside whispered again.
But this time, it wasn't fear he felt.
It was power.