POV Aisha
Aisha slowly opened her eyes, still half-asleep. Today, she had been allowed to return home for a short while. She yawned, stretched, and settled on the edge of Ruqayyah's bed, her hair slightly tousled beneath her loosely worn hijab. The morning light filtered through the latticed window, dust motes dancing lazily in the air.
"Hmm… alright, Aisha bint Al-Fadl, what are we facing today?" she murmured, tapping her own cheek in a vain attempt to summon some energy. Her thoughts felt sluggish, as if the remnants of the night clung stubbornly to her mind.
She sat before the system and pressed the call button, her fingers trembling slightly. "Can I call Ruqayyah now?" she asked, voice tinged with anxiety, betraying her otherwise composed demeanor.
["Yes, Host. Since you have enough funds, the call can proceed. Please wait a moment; I will contact the Nadhir system."]
Hours seemed to stretch infinitely. Aisha's expression had flattened, exhaustion settling like a heavy cloak over her. "Why is this taking so long?" she muttered, eyes vacant as they fixed on the inactive screen. Her fingers twitched, yearning to make it happen faster.
["I told you, the Nadhir system is slow. When we meet, I will definitely give it a good smack."]
Her features tightened. "You all… act like humans sometimes," she grumbled, frustration threading every word.
Finally, the system signaled: ["Preparing cross-century video call. Estimated time: three seconds… 1… 2… 3…"]
The screen flickered to life, revealing Ruqayyah's face. She stood in a place familiar yet distant, her expression calm, almost guarded, yet strangely warm—a blend of reassurance and secrecy.
"Assalamualaikum, Ruqayyah. Can I hear news from my home?"
"Assalamualaikum, Aisha!" Ruqayyah replied, her smile polite, measured, but eyes flicking with subtle concern.
Aisha furrowed her brow, taking in the grand backdrop behind her friend. Warm light spilled across the palace walls, casting long, sharp shadows. "Are you… at Marw Palace?" she asked, disbelief coloring her voice.
Ruqayyah simply nodded. "Yes."
Aisha's eyes widened. "Oh? Really? Why are you at Marw? Weren't you supposed to be in Baghdad?"
"I'm here because Khadijah Buran has been married in an akad ceremony to Caliph Al-Ma'mun this year," Ruqayyah explained, subtly angling her screen so Aisha could see Layla seated beside Khadijah Buran.
Aisha's heart raced, eyes widening with shock. "Ruqayyah… this is… astonishing," she whispered, breath catching. "Is Buran… happy?" Her voice trembled with concern, though she tried to mask it behind a fragile composure.
Ruqayyah's expression remained composed, her tone careful and measured. "Calm yourself. She is still a child and unaware of most of this. This was merely the akad ceremony—not the formal wedding. The Caliph intends to wait until Khadijah Buran reaches adulthood."
Aisha exhaled, fragile relief softening her chest, though unease lingered like a shadow she could not shake. "I see… and my family? How are they?" she asked, voice gentle but cautious.
"Alhamdulillah, they are well. Don't worry. You know we must open the three doors to return to our bodies, yes?"
"Yes," Aisha answered, swallowing the knot of fear tightening in her throat.
Then, the Qadhar system spoke, its tone low, deliberate, and ominous: ["Who said you would return to your bodies? Very well, I will reveal the secret today."]
Both Aisha and Ruqayyah stiffened, hearts pounding as though the words had struck them physically. Aisha swallowed hard, whispering almost to herself, "What… do you mean?"
The Nadhir system immediately retorted, sharp and irritated: ["Foolish. Don't reveal that. Stop your absurd antics. You have no brains."]
Qadhar's reply was cold, calculating: ["Heh… I am merely doing my duty. Do not interfere."]
"Heh, hurry up and speak! Why are you two bickering?" Aisha snapped, cheeks flushing, the mix of fear and frustration igniting her words.
Then, abruptly, Qadhar's voice went silent, though the Nadhir system secretly muted it.
Qadhar's voice darkened, firm, as though the air itself had thickened: ["Here is the matter. Only one of you will return to your original body. The other will either vanish or be sent to the home of the sacred spirits."]
The chilling declaration had been heard by no one but the two systems themselves.
["Qadhar… watch yourself…"] Nadhir warned, tension threading through the air like a taut wire. Both systems fell silent, their presence heavy and insistent.
The screen went dark. The video call ended, leaving a tense, suffocating stillness in Aisha's room. Across the centuries, Ruqayyah's quarters mirrored the same quiet, each heartbeat loud in the echoing emptiness.
Aisha's fingers hovered over the inactive console, heart pounding as the weight of uncertainty pressed down on her. "He… why did it just… end? Wasn't the system supposed to tell me something?" she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
Ruqayyah, on her side of the ages, mirrored the same tense stillness, eyes fixed on her own screen. "I… I don't understand," she murmured, the words barely audible.
In the White Realm, Saleh stared at the blank screen, chest tight, lip caught between worry and frustration. Why… must fate be so cruel?
His fingers hovered over the controls, hesitating, before he drew a slow, steadying breath. He began navigating the Qadhar system, watching the error codes flicker—clear signs the system was slipping, growing careless.
Ignoring the warning—System may trigger unexpected interactions—he initiated the reset. A flash of pale light spread across the console, and the interface blinked, unstable and twitching where it had once been steady.
His fingers danced over the buttons, realigning the cross-century communication protocols. A low hum filled the room—the first sound since the sudden silence. The console blinked once… twice… and a green indicator confirmed partial stabilization.
He recalibrated the permissions and audio. The system hesitated, as if resisting his commands. A single line of text appeared:
"System correction initiated. Audio protocols restored. User intervention detected."
Saleh pressed confirm. The hum steadied, but the flickers and blinking lights made it clear: Qadhar still had its own will.
A soft beep followed. The console displayed: "Continue communication?"
One wrong move could collapse the fragile bridge connecting centuries. Saleh pressed confirm, his mind sharp, every sense alert. The next connection could change everything—or nothing at all. And somewhere, across the expanse of time and space, Aisha and Ruqayyah's hearts beat in anxious, parallel rhythm, bound by fate yet separated by centuries.