The protective circle (Hisaar) drawn by Imran Baba had granted us a night of peaceful sleep, but his final words—"We must reach the root of this"—were echoing in my mind like a rhythmic hammer. By morning, the atmosphere of the house had shifted. My wife and sister no longer carried that haunting dread on their faces, yet the exhaustion was still visible.
A Terrifying Revelation
The following evening, I returned to Imran Baba. He was sitting in his old courtyard, reciting on his prayer beads. Upon seeing me, he gestured for me to sit beside him.
"Hassan," he said in a solemn voice, "the entity that spoke through your sister last night was no ordinary shadow. It was an ancient vendetta. Do you recall if anyone in your lineage ever usurped someone's rights, or built a home on land that belonged to them?"
I shook my head. "Baba, I remember no such thing. We have always been people who minded our own business."
Imran Baba opened an old book with a knowing smile. "Humans forget, but these entities remember for generations. The web cast over your family is at least three generations deep."
Bitter Memories of the Past
Imran Baba revealed that during his meditation (Muraqba), certain visions had appeared to him. He described an ancient tree and a desolate well, likely located in our ancestral village.
"Something is buried there, Hassan. Something placed there through illicit means to imprison your family's happiness. Shah Saab only protected you; he did not eradicate the 'source.' Now, that influence has returned, stronger than ever."
The New Trial
Imran Baba handed me an old silver ring engraved with specific mystical words. He gave me two instructions:
Protection: "Keep this ring with you; it will shield you from their direct strikes."
The Journey: "We must go to the village. We must find the root that your ancestors perhaps planted unknowingly."
As we were speaking, the weather outside abruptly shifted. An unseasonable storm began to howl, and the doors of Imran Baba's house started banging violently. It felt as though someone—or something—was standing outside, screaming in rage.
Imran Baba stood up, his face radiating a divine aura (Jalaal). "They realize we are close to the root. They will try to block our path. But it is too late now."
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