The days that followed Zahra's return from the catacombs were strangely peaceful.
Too peaceful.
No calls from Mufti Rafiq. No visions. No ghosts at the hospital. It felt like the calm before a gathering storm. Even the book had stopped whispering. Its pages now sat still and silent on her desk, as if resting after centuries of travel.
Zahra resumed her rounds at Noor General Hospital, though her eyes searched every patient's face for a sign—a flicker of the supernatural, a mark on the skin, a glow in the eyes.
But there was nothing.
Until the power outage.
It happened on a humid Thursday night.
A total blackout struck the entire east wing of the hospital.
Emergency generators kicked in, but the pediatric ICU—where the marked babies were kept—remained dead silent. Not a hum. Not a flicker of light. Zahra rushed through the corridors with a flashlight in hand, heart pounding.
When she reached the ward, her breath caught.
Every crib was empty.
Gone.
The children. The nurses. Even the cameras had stopped recording. The air was unnaturally still, like the world was holding its breath.
And then—on the far wall—someone had painted a symbol in blood.
The Eye.
But this time… it was upside down.
Arif arrived moments later, breathless.
"They're gone. All of them," Zahra whispered, her eyes locked on the symbol.
"How? No one saw anything?"
She shook her head. "This wasn't human."
The Eye continued to drip slowly, as though freshly marked.
Zahra stepped closer.
Then, beneath it, she saw another message:
"When the Eye turns, the Pulse awakens. The guardian must not interfere."
Her skin went cold. "The Pulse…"
Arif frowned. "What is that?"
Zahra didn't answer.
Because she didn't know.
But she intended to find out.
That night, she opened the ancient book again. Its cover felt different—colder, heavier, as if warning her.
When she turned the first page, new writing had appeared:
"The Forbidden Pulse: a power born of corrupted healing. A curse left behind by the fallen guardian who tried to cheat death. It spreads in silence. It grows in darkness. And it awakens when the Eye is reversed."
Zahra slammed the book shut.
"A fallen guardian?" Arif asked, startled. "What does that mean?"
She looked at him, her voice quiet.
"It means… I wasn't the only one chosen. But someone before me—one of us—turned dark."
The next day, Zahra received a package.
No sender.
Inside was a black feather, a strand of silver thread, and a note:
"The Pulse lives in the city. Underneath the temple that never speaks."
Mufti Rafiq was the only one who could decode this riddle.
But when Zahra called his number—there was no answer.
She drove to his home.
The door was ajar.
Books were scattered, windows cracked, prayer beads torn and tossed. But no sign of Mufti Rafiq.
Except for a single scrap of paper left behind on his prayer rug.
On it were five words, hastily scribbled:
"I found the other one."
Zahra felt the floor shift beneath her feet.
She sat in silence, the paper trembling in her fingers.
There was another guardian.
Alive.
And corrupted.
Later that evening, Zahra and Arif sat together on the rooftop.
"I don't understand," he said. "If there was another guardian, why hide?"
Zahra looked out over the city. "Maybe they didn't hide. Maybe… they were waiting for someone to awaken the book again. For someone to take the role—and then take it from them."
"Do you think it's someone we know?"
She didn't answer.
The question terrified her.
That night, Zahra dreamed again.
She stood in a vast underground chamber, the ceiling lost in shadows. In the center stood a massive heart—beating slowly, pulsing dark red light. Veins stretched like tree roots across the stone floor.
And standing before the heart… was her.
Not Zahra as she was.
But a future version—her hair unbound, her eyes empty, her hand stained in blood.
She turned and whispered to Zahra:
"You don't understand yet. But you will. When the Pulse calls, the healer bleeds."
Zahra woke up gasping, soaked in sweat.
The Eye on her palm was burning again.
And she knew where she had to go.
The Temple That Never Speaks was an abandoned Zoroastrian fire temple buried beneath the ruins of old Lahore. Forgotten by history, preserved only in whispers. Zahra had once read about it in her grandmother's journals.
Before dawn, she and Arif drove toward the crumbling outskirts, the book wrapped tightly in cloth, resting in Zahra's lap.
No GPS.
No signs.
Only instinct.
As they entered the ruins, a sudden gust of hot wind greeted them, and the air turned metallic. Zahra descended the cracked marble stairs with slow, deliberate steps.
At the end of the corridor, an ancient iron door stood sealed—until the moment her hand touched it.
The Eye on her palm glowed.
The door groaned open.
What lay beyond stole their breath.
A circular hall, untouched by time. Statues of angels with veiled faces lined the walls. In the center—exactly as in her dream—was a massive heart, suspended in midair, throbbing with red and black veins.
But they weren't alone.
A man in black stood near the heart, his back turned, a silver chain dangling from his wrist.
Zahra stepped forward. "Who are you?"
The man turned slowly.
He wore a doctor's coat.
The hospital crest from Noor General was stitched onto the sleeve.
His eyes shimmered—one silver, one black.
"I am what you could become," he said softly.
Zahra froze.
"You're the other guardian…"
He nodded. "Once. I was chosen. But I saw the truth. Healing isn't enough. Some things must be broken to be rebuilt."
Arif stepped in. "You kidnapped the children."
"I freed them," the man replied. "Their souls were trapped in flesh that was never meant to hold such power. I'm preparing them. For the coming storm."
Zahra's voice rose. "You're feeding the Pulse. That thing—this heart—this isn't healing. This is corruption!"
The man smiled sadly.
"The line between healing and harm has always been thin."
The Pulse suddenly beat louder.
Faster.
The chamber began to shake.
Zahra held up the book, but the pages flew wildly, a whirlwind of power and symbols.
"You can't stop it," the man said. "The seal is cracking. The gate will open. And this time—light will not be enough."
He vanished into smoke.
The Pulse exploded with light, and Zahra was thrown back against the wall.
When she opened her eyes, the chamber was empty again.
The heart had vanished.
But the damage was done.
The Pulse had awakened.
And the corrupted guardian was real.
Back in her apartment, Zahra looked out over the city once more.
But tonight, something had changed.
The lights didn't flicker like stars.
They pulsed.
Like a living thing.
Like a heart.
She turned to Arif.
"It's spreading."
He looked at her. "What do we do?"
Zahra opened the book once more.
Her voice was steady.
"We fight it. Not just with healing. But with truth. With fire. With everything the guardians before us left behind."
She ran her fingers over a new page appearing before her eyes:
"The final guardian must choose:To protect the world…Or purge it."