House of Horror Part II

Chapter 6 The sun sets on hell

The sun sets on the ancient inferno.

The desert lies silent, save for the whispers of the wind as it sweeps across the sand, carrying the scent of dust and ash. Investigator Mohammed and journalist Susan emerge from the gates of the vast palace, having spent a year within its walls—trapped in a world of terror, obsession, and relentless pursuit. The air escaping from within was heavier than words could capture, as if it carried lost souls clinging to it until the very last moment.

The sun is about to devour the horizon, painting the sand a dark, blood-red, like blood splattered across the face of the earth. They pause, taking in the awe-inspiring sight, raising their hands to shield their eyes from the scorching disc, gazing at it silently as if bidding farewell to an entire world, not just a passing day.

They move slowly, walking across the sand, still warm from the day, each step heavy with unspoken secrets they carry in their hearts. As they gradually moved away from the palace, Muhammad heard a strange sound rising from behind—a deep roar, as if the earth itself had awakened in fury. He stopped abruptly and charged toward the palace. Flames erupted from its upper windows, climbing like infernal tongues licking the sky, intertwined with thick black smoke that twisted like a giant serpent. From behind the fire echoed the roar of King Azarukh—a fiery bellow as if hell itself had opened a mao in the heart of the palace.

Susan froze, her face pale, her eyes wide with terror. Muhammad reached her, gently taking her hand, and pulled her close as he whispered firmly, "Don't look back... It's all over here." For a moment, she resisted, captivated by the fiery din that filled the horizon, as if the palace itself were taking revenge for everything that had happened within its walls. Finally, she yielded to his hand and walked with him, leaving behind the glare of the flames that had begun to devour the night. As their shadows faded into the vast desert, a terrifying scream erupted from within the palace, shaking the sands once more. It was the scream of Azarukh—a declaration of a new demonic war, from which neither humans nor jinn could escape.

—The Child of Good and the Fate of Blood**

The Sheikh**, Shams al-Duhur**, stood in the heart of his palace, his piercing eyes fixed upon the newborn before him—the child born to be a symbol of good on Earth, a beacon of hope amidst the bloody darkness. This child was meant to grow up to be the guardian of good and to illuminate the path of humanity.

But fate proved crueler than any expectation. A bloodthirsty little jinn, born that very day, had crept within the palace walls, moving silently. It brutally devoured the head of the Child of Good, leaving behind a chilling silence and shock that echoed through the great halls.

Shams al-Duhur raised his head in disbelief, his voice choked with grief and rage:

I cannot believe what I see… How could this happen within my palace? Who committed these atrocities? He sank back into his magnificent chair, the weight of treachery and blood pressing heavily on his chest.

At that moment, **Zuraq**, the obedient servant, appeared before him, emerging as if from a long shadow. His eyes held news so terrible that no mind could have foreseen it. Zahraq whispered, his voice quiet but heavy with grim weight:

"The new child of evil... no more than two days old... is called **Gamer**. His method of killing is strange and horrifying... he devours human heads with his mouth. He killed the child of goodness, the Sun of Ages, and appeared flying, as if with wings—not real wings, but something else." "It's a strange, supernatural creature." Zahraq raised his hands toward the distant ceiling of the palace, his eyes following the creature's movements:

"Now he sits upon the back of Damur, the Blood King, who stands motionless on the palace roof, reveling in this chaos." Shams al-Duhur shuddered, his voice rising with shock and anger:

"Isn't Damur

Terror Above the Palace

Susan stood frozen, her eyes fixed behind her, as the sky darkened with the approach of night, weaving the first threads of darkness along the edges of the ancient palace. The air grew heavy and thick with the scent of ash and flame, as if the night itself seeped into the heart before it reached the eyes.

On the palace rooftops, they saw it… the strange creature, crouching atop another strange being, a creature beating its chest with its hands. Blood splattered in a horrifying display, cascading down the stone walls and seeping mercilessly through the palace. The flames pouring from the chamber of King Azarut, the Lord of Fire, did not disturb it, nor did the mythical spectacle seem to matter to this creature.

Susan shuddered as Detective Mohammed rushed to her side, gently taking her hand and pulling her close, as if protecting her from unimaginable evil. They retreated cautiously, each step measured, each breath heavy with fear and anticipation.

Their eyes followed the creatures' every movement, every drop of blood that fell, every flicker of fire that danced along the walls. Despite the terror gripping their hearts, they tried to reassure one another. Every heartbeat reflected the brutality of the scene before them. They were about to become part of this legendary nightmare, a battle between the forces of good and evil that challenged anyone who dared approach the palace's secrets.

Darkness enveloped the space, and blood and majesty intertwined in a terrifying symphony, leaving behind the feeling that one wrong step could be the last, and that the palace itself was watching, ready to consume anyone brave enough to defy it.