Qasim's POV
Qasim unfolded the letter in his hands with steady fingers, but his eyes scanned the words with a quiet intensity. The flickering oil lamp beside him barely lit the ink, but it was enough.
Umm-e-Farwah watched him closely. She noticed the small shift in his expression — a moment of stillness. That was enough to unsettle her.
"Qasim brother… what does it say?" she asked, her voice soft but sharp with concern.
Qasim looked up abruptly, blinking as if he had been pulled from a different world.
"It's nothing." He shook his head, trying to smile. "Probably a prank… someone's idea of a joke. Let's eat."
Umm-e-Farwah nodded slowly, but her heart wasn't satisfied with the answer. She was not just his sister — she was his student, someone who had seen him face danger without blinking, someone who had memorized every tone of his voice.
This voice… was hiding something.
She sat down with him and Hammad for dinner, but her mind wasn't on the food. Something's wrong. He's hiding the truth.
She picked at her bread slowly, her eyes dropping to the letter folded beside Qasim's plate.
Was it a threat?
Was someone calling him somewhere?
Or worse — was it a trap?
"I need to find out." The thought burned in her mind like a candle in darkness.
Princess Maryam's POV
In another corner of the palace, far away from the dusty silence of Qasim's house, Princess Maryam sat in her room, flipping through an old journal. The palace was quiet, the wind whistling softly through the latticed windows.
She turned to look at her side table. Something caught her eye. A small, folded paper lay there, untouched.
She frowned.
"I don't remember putting anything there," she murmured.
Slowly, she reached out and picked it up. Her fingers traced the seal. Unmarked. Unfamiliar. She unfolded it carefully.
"This letter is for Princess Maryam."
Her heart skipped.
How did this get here?
No one had entered her room. No guards reported anything unusual.
She stood up, her hands trembling slightly. What is happening tonight?
Princess Nayab's POV
It was deep into the night when a loud knock echoed across the heavy door of Princess Nayab's room.
She woke instantly, sitting up in bed.
Who knocks at this hour? she thought, annoyed.
Pulling a shawl around her, she walked to the door and opened it slowly. She peered left… then right. The hallway was empty. The cold marble floor echoed with silence.
"What kind of nonsense is this?" she muttered, turning to go back inside.
But something made her stop.
A feeling.
She turned around again.
There, just beside the door… a paper lay on the ground. Half-tucked under the doorframe.
She knelt and picked it up. No name. No symbol. Just… a message inside.
She opened it carefully.
"This letter is for Princess Nayab."
Her breath caught in her throat.
Fatima's POV
In a different wing of the city, Fatima was helping her father arrange scrolls when he handed her a plain folded paper.
"my child," he said, "this arrived for you. We haven't read it. Maybe it's important. See what it says."
Fatima looked at it curiously. She nodded.
"I'll check it in my room."
She walked away quickly, something uneasy beginning to grow in her chest. Sitting on her bed, she opened the letter and read the first line:
"This letter is for Fatima."
Her fingers tightened around the paper.
Later That Night – Group POV
One letter.
Four women.
One man.
All received different letters. All on the same night. All with no names written outside.
All delivered in silence — without footsteps, without warnings, without signs.
By morning, whispers had spread.
Qasim, Fatima, Nayab, Maryam, Umm-e-Farwah — all realized it couldn't be a coincidence.
Only one name echoed in their minds:
Hashim.
Was this his trap? His game?
If it was… he had made his move.
But this time — they wouldn't let it go.
"This time, he doesn't get to walk away," Qasim whispered as he stared at the letter once more. "No more shadows. We're coming for you."
And one by one, they all prepared themselves — because whatever these letters said…
They were not going to let it go
Everyone prepares themselves — not to run away from the truth hidden in the letter… but to face it.
This wasn't a message meant to scare them. It was a call — a challenge. And none of them were going to back down.
But not everyone knew how to fight with swords.
Princess Maryam, standing in her quiet chamber with the letter clutched tightly in her hands, stared at the words again. Her heartbeat echoed louder than the silence around her.
She took a deep breath, then called, "Yousuf!"
Within an hour, Yousuf entered, alert, concerned. "Yes, Princess?"
She walked up to him slowly, placed the letter in his hands, and looked into his eyes with a seriousness she rarely showed.
"I… I cannot go. I don't know how to fight. But you can. You must go, Yousuf."
Yousuf opened the letter and read it quickly, nodding slowly.
Maryam stepped closer. Her voice softened.
"But listen to me very carefully… I want you to go — but you must return to me. Safe, unharmed. Do you understand?"
Yousuf gave a gentle smile. "Yes, I understand, Princess."
She placed her hand gently on his arm, her eyes shimmering. "I'll be waiting for you. Come back to me. Quickly."
He nodded again, his voice steady but full of feeling.
"And I'll be waiting for the moment I return to you."
Their eyes met — no promises, no dramatic words — just a silent understanding. Something deeper than fear.
Something stronger than war.
And with that… he turned and walked into the unknown.
Qasim unfolds the letter with steady fingers, his eyes narrowing as he begins to read.
The handwriting is sharp… rushed… almost threatening. Each word carries a weight — and a warning.
"If you wish to prove your loyalty…
then come to the place mentioned below.
Come alone.
If you try to act clever… you won't survive.
So don't even think about being smart."
Qasim clenches the letter tightly in his hand.
His jaw tightens. His eyes burn with a thousand questions.
Who sent this?
Why him?
Why now?
But one thing is certain — this isn't a joke.
This is a message meant to test him… to lure him…
Or maybe even trap him.
He reads the lines again, this time slower.
"Come alone."
"You won't survive."
The words echo in his mind. Every part of him screams caution — but something inside him, something stronger than fear, whispers:
"Go."
Whatever this is…
Whatever game is being played…
Qasim knows —
he has to face it.
Question For readers:
If you received a letter like this — with no sender, no signs, no clue — would you go alone… or would you tell someone first?
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Written By
Sabir Ali
Thanks For reading