The catacombs were colder than Zahra remembered.
A thick fog clung to the damp stones, and each footstep echoed with an eerie finality. Arif walked beside her in silence, the book of guardians clutched tightly in Zahra's hands, its leather now darkened with age and something deeper—power.
They passed the chamber where the First Patient had once risen, where his cries had pierced the veil between life and death.
But this time, something else waited.
Not rage.
Something older.
Something is watching.
Arif touched Zahra's arm. "Do you hear that?"
She stopped.
From deep within the labyrinth came a whisper.
Not loud—but layered, like dozens of voices speaking the same word:
"Zahra..."
The walls vibrated slightly. The eye symbol etched into Zahra's palm months ago began to glow faintly.
"Let's move," she said, her voice calm but firm.
They advanced, guided by the ancient markings, toward the Sealed Chamber—the place Mufti Rafiq had warned them about.
A massive stone archway stood at the end of the corridor, covered in sacred carvings and rusted chains.
Zahra opened the book to the page marked "The Gate of the Bound."
The text shimmered:
"When the chosen stands before the gate, her blood shall speak.
The light in her shall awaken the silence beyond."
Zahra stepped forward, pressing her hand against the cold stone.
Her mark burned.
The gate responded.
Chains rattled and fell away with a clang.
Stone creaked and groaned as the door slowly swung open.
Inside lay a circular chamber filled with mist. A raised platform stood in the center with a stone basin—its contents glowing.
But what truly took Zahra's breath away were the paintings on the walls—stories of healers who had come before her.
Each one holding the same book.
Each one with the Eye over their heart.
One, however, stood out. It was unfinished.
Her own face.
Painted in divine detail.
Before she could process the shock, a soft cry echoed from the basin.
Zahra moved closer.
Inside the stone bowl lay an infant, swaddled in light. Not fully human. Ethereal. Its eyes opened—completely silver, without pupils.
"What is this?" Arif whispered.
Zahra leaned over.
The baby touched her hand.
Images burst through her mind.
A temple. A prophecy. A gate that held the spirits of lost healers—their work unfinished, their powers still lingering.
Zahra fell to her knees.
"It's not a baby," she gasped. "It's a vessel. A messenger."
The child spoke, not with words, but through thought:
"The gate must remain closed. But one soul must stay behind to seal it."
Zahra turned pale. "It's asking me to stay?"
The child blinked slowly.
"You are the last guardian. The chain ends with you."
Suddenly, the chamber quaked.
Dark mist poured in from the gate.
The air grew heavy.
A figure formed in the shadows—a tall being, cloaked in darkness, its face obscured by layers of smoke.
"I am Azharan," it hissed. "Keeper of the bound. And you, Zahra, will not seal me again."
Zahra stood tall. "You cannot cross. The guardian stands here."
Azharan laughed. "You are not strong enough."
From behind him, dozens of ghostly forms emerged—twisted, angry spirits.
Zahra clutched the book.
Its pages turned on their own.
A prayer began to echo in her ears.
She raised her hand, chanting the sacred words.
Light burst from her body, filling the room like sunlight flooding a cave.
The spirits screamed and dissolved.
Azharan stumbled, then charged.
Zahra extended her hand.
The basin pulsed.
The infant rose into the air, glowing like a star.
The light intensified until everything turned white.
Silence.
Zahra opened her eyes.
The chamber was empty.
No shadows.
No gate.
Just her, Arif, and the vessel.
She turned to the book. A new passage had written itself.
"The guardian chose to return. Her task is incomplete.
But her soul burns brighter than the night."
She wasn't asked to stay behind after all.
The vessel had tested her heart—and she had passed.
On their way back through the tunnels, Zahra felt different.
Lighter.
The Eye on her palm no longer burned—it pulsed softly, like a friend whispering, "Well done."
At sunrise, Zahra and Arif emerged from the catacombs into the waking city.
Life continued as normal.
But Zahra knew better.
The balance had been preserved—for now.
As they reached the car, Arif finally asked the question that had hung in the air since they saw the baby.
"What now?"
Zahra smiled, placing the book gently in her bag.
"We train. We prepare. We protect."
He looked puzzled. "For what?"
Zahra glanced up at the brightening sky.
"For the time the next star falls... and a new guardian is called."