Chapter 1: The weak fall first.
Friday and the Shadows of Destiny
On Friday morning, Malik stood before the calendar hanging on the wall, slowly reaching to tear off a new page, as if each day recorded a destiny waiting to be revealed. He held the paper between his fingers and gazed at it thoughtfully. The date was clearly written:
Friday, November 17, 2025
Beneath the date, the day's wisdom was inscribed in small but weighty letters, as if it were a message from time itself:
"It is said that he killed ninety-nine people and entered Paradise."
From behind him, Daniel approached quietly and stood beside him, observing the paper in Malik's hand. In a quiet but curious voice, he asked,
"Do you believe that?"
Malik looked at him steadily, his eyes piercing the horizon as if seeing beyond the letters and numbers themselves. He spoke in a calm voice filled with certainty:
"I believe in only one thing... that something controls this world, deciding life and death. Death... always falls upon the weak." Daniel paused for a moment, then asked hesitantly, "Do you mean those ghosts you saw before?"
Malik smiled sadly, as if his experience with shadows had taught him a great deal:
Perhaps they are... or perhaps a force greater than themselves.
Daniel stared at him, trying to grasp the depth of his meaning:
- You mean... God?
Malik responded with an enigmatic nod:
Perhaps it is... or perhaps not.
At that moment, Rovan and Dima emerged from behind them, standing quietly beside Malik and Daniel, exchanging glances of expectant anticipation. Malik turned towards the balcony, then stepped out of the chalet with measured, deliberate steps. Rovan and Dima followed him nonchalantly, and Daniel arrived last, leaving the chalet door open behind them.
Malik sat behind the wheel, his eyes scanning every movement on the road ahead. Daniel sat beside him, while Dima and Rovan occupied the back seats, silent, tense, waiting for whatever this new day might bring.
The sun began to rise, casting golden rays over the dusty road, heralding a new day—a day that might hold more exciting events, and perhaps dangers they had never faced before. In the background, Magda emerged from one of the rooms, slowly closing the door behind her. Her eyes followed the car as it drove out of the chalet, as if she were anxiously contemplating what fate the day might hold for them.
Silence enveloped the scene, the air heavy with anticipation and longing, and the night that had passed left only dark memories.
— Facing the Truth in Hisham's Public Library
Major General Hisham al-Mirghani stood inside a library, his eyes wide with anger and tension, his fingers unconsciously gripping the edge of the wooden desk. The air felt heavy, as if every corner of the room whispered secrets and shadows. His voice, broken and filled with rage, he asked, "How come no one hit him?"
Before him, the officer stood attentively, carefully holding the investigation logbook, trying to convey the truth without any rashness. His voice was calm but direct: "This is the doctor's report, sir. I interrogated the prisoners one by one... each individually, and they all confirmed the same thing: Murad al-Amri suddenly collapsed in his cell, and no one harmed him. Even the guard stationed at the cell door confirmed the same."
General Hisham took a deep breath, his brow furrowing, his voice charged with both anger and confusion: "What do you mean, Officer?"
The officer gave a faint smile, heavy with the weight of the truth, then said firmly: "It means... Murad was killed by jinn. Enough denying the truth we all know."
General Hisham clasped his hands tightly, his voice trembling between anger and shock: "What truth are you talking about, Officer? Are you accusing me?" The officer responded steadily, without taking a step back: “No, sir… but the jinn killed Murad inside the prison. The testimonies of more than fifteen people—none of whom have anything to do with the lies or Murad’s death—confirm it.” Gener
– Surveillance of the Minister’s Villa
Malik and his companions sat in their usual spot in front of the minister’s villa, hidden behind the new masks they wore each day, their faces and personas constantly changing. The week was drawing to a close, and Malik’s seven-day plan to surveil the minister and his home was nearing its end. Yet, the atmosphere around the villa was eerily quiet, as if the place itself awaited something unseen.
The security guards stood steadily along the villa’s perimeter fence, and the bodyguards paced tirelessly, their eyes scanning every movement, while the villa’s doors remained firmly shut. No visitors approached, and no sound disturbed the apparent tranquility, as if everything had been meticulously arranged to maintain the illusion of perfect security.
One of the guards, noticing the car, glanced up at Malik, then turned to his colleague and said, “This car has been parked here since this morning.”
His colleague smiled faintly, calmly observed the car, and replied, “I saw it here yesterday too.” The first guard nodded optimistically, then spoke cautiously, "It's not them. These are different people. Look at their faces."
His colleague replied, "Actually... one of them was more handsome than these."
A short silence followed, then the guard decided to move. "I'll go over there and ask them why they're standing here."
But his colleague stopped him with a firm hand, warning, "Don't go near them... as long as they don't approach, there's no need to risk it. Let them stay where they are."
The atmosphere around the villa remained still, as if night hadn't yet fallen. The long shadows of the guards and the car intertwined on the ground, forming a web of mystery and suspense. Malik and his companions, inside their vehicle, behind their masks, watched every movement, every glance, every hesitation, enjoying the game of patience and observation they had imposed upon themselves. Meanwhile, deep inside the minister's villa, no one realized that unseen eyes were following every step, every breath, in deadly silence.
