Mecca sank into a suffocating silence.
The kind that precedes catastrophe, before cities turn to bone and dust, before prayers are cut short mid-breath.
The caravan entered through the northern gate.
Sultan rode at the forefront, his white hair glowing like a harbinger—a sight whispered in every tale around the campfire's blaze. Behind him, Layla al-Riyah mounted her steed, the very air bending to her will, currents from the Eastern continents woven into the folds of her cloak.
People lined the streets in precise ranks.
They whispered.
They stared.
Their eyes clung to the boy whose body had once been burned with magical runes in the valley.
The same boy now fixing his gaze on the Kaaba, as if drawing the steadiness of mountains and the patience of eternity from it.
The caravan halted before the courtyard of the Elite Fortress.
Sheikh Abdulrahman stood there, his robe the color of dawn ash. He offered no greeting. No smile. His gaze first met Layla, then Sultan—reading visions yet unwritten.
Sultan dismounted.
His armored boots struck the stone with a resonance like war drums pounding inside a sealed tomb.
He turned to Layla.
She combined the dignity of queens with the ferocity of warriors. Something clenched in his chest—not fear, but the harsh realization that this foreign woman, marked with golden runes, was the missing shard in the blade of his life.
"Welcome to Mecca, Daughter of the Winds," Abdulrahman's voice rasped, like sand grinding against bone.
"You have crossed barren lands no one dares traverse—only fate… or those already fleeing a hell that pursues them."
Layla did not bow.
She lifted her chin, Eastern pride manifest in her posture, the golden emblem on her forehead gleaming with a dangerous, predatory light.
"I seek the one touched by the prophecy," she said coldly.
"The East tears itself apart. The winds no longer carry warnings—only the stench of an imminent massacre."
Khalid remained in the shadows of the courtyard.
He watched.
His eyes flared with a bitterness that seemed ready to crack his skull. Cold seeped into his fingers. The shadow beneath his feet writhed, like a chained beast gnawing its bonds.
He saw the silent understanding between Sultan and Layla.
And for the first time, he felt it.
His place beside his brother, fracturing under a light he did not yet possess.
He clenched the tar-stained hilt of his dagger so tightly his nails tore into his palm. Blood seeped, warm, unnoticed.
He whispered words meant only for the darkness:
"They are united by the light…"
But only the shadows knew his truth.
The Sheikh summoned them into the Grand Council Hall.
Oil lamps flickered weakly, casting violent, distorted shadows upon the stone walls, as if the room itself teemed with writhing phantoms. Abdulrahman unfurled an ancient map, its edges worn by time and war.
His trembling finger stabbed glowing points across the three continents.
"The Displacement is not merely a fracture in the earth," he said.
"It is a rupture in the heart of the Eternal Covenant. The Demon Emperors gather behind the rifts."
He lifted his gaze.
"They watch us. Now."
The hall trembled.
Dust fell from the ceiling as the stones groaned like a dying giant. Sultan gripped his sword instinctively. Layla's eyes ignited with a silvery steel brilliance.
This was no ordinary shiver.
A muffled scream emanated from the very bowels of the planet.
Abdulrahman turned to Sultan, his face stripped of any mercy.
"Time is running out, Sultan. The prophecy says you will unite the banners of the three continents under the banner of La ilaha illallah."
He lowered his voice.
"But before that… your power must be baptized in the Crucible of Advanced Trial within the Fortress of Mecca."
Sultan looked to Khalid.
In his brother's eyes, he saw a black void—pain, terror, and something far worse eager to emerge. Yet Sultan extended his hand and gripped his shoulder.
"We will face this together, Khalid. As we always have."
Khalid did not answer.
Not even with a hollow nod.
Layla watched them in silence, fully aware that the bond between the brothers was Mecca's greatest weapon.
And its deadliest fracture.
Outside, dusk swallowed the city.
And in the darkness, red eyes multiplied.
Glowing brighter. Sharper.
Waiting for the moment when the last light would shatter.