"Sir! We interrogated those eight men," a guard reported to Samad. "They confessed they were sent by Ajal to capture Sir Haman."
"Good," Samad replied coldly. "Keep them locked in the dungeon. No one leaves. Post extra guards—watch them like hawks."
"Yes, Sir!" The guard saluted sharply.
---
It had been five months since Haman was discharged from the hospital.
A knock echoed through Azam's modest home.
"Just a moment, I'm coming," Azam called, opening the door.
"Haman? What are you doing here? Come in. But—are you out of your mind?" Azam's voice dropped to a worried whisper. "Wearing just a long cloak won't hide your identity. Ajal's guards will recognize you and hand you over to that tyrant. You shouldn't be here. You should stay in Demara City—it's the only place safe for you now. This place is no longer—"
"That city isn't safe for me anymore," he interrupted.
"What? Why? How?" Azam asked, his eyes widening.
"I was attacked there," he said grimly.
"I need your help… to get something," he added, his voice taking on an unsettling tone.
"Of course," Azam replied, his voice softening. "You know I'm always here for you."
He stepped closer, embracing Azam. But from within his cloak, his hand slid out holding a large knife. Without hesitation, he drove it into Azam's back—again and again—each thrust sending a sickening thud through the small room.
Azam gasped, collapsing to the floor, writhing in agony.
"Haman! You… you can't do this," Azam croaked.
Haman's lips twisted into a smile, and then—he laughed. Not a laugh of joy, but of cold betrayal. Without a word more, he turned and walked away, leaving the door open to the silent, bleeding night.
Azam's body convulsed once, twice… and then lay still, the life draining from his eyes.
Tears welled up in the room, as if even the walls mourned the silence of a life gone too soon.
~ "The world feels colder in the absence of light,
Shadows linger deep into the night.
A heart once warm now lies in despair,
And silence whispers grief through the air.
Tears fall softly, like rain on stone,
A life once bright now left alone.
Memories linger, haunting and true,
The world feels empty, bereft of you."
_____
Then he made his way to Ajal's palace.
"I have completed the task you assigned," he said.
"Excellent! Well done, Haman." Ajal replied, a mocking smile curling across his face. "You've pleased me greatly. Now, here is your reward." Ajal gestured toward a figure lying on the ground, battered and barely conscious, bruised as if beaten mercilessly.
Suddenly, he transformed into a truly terrifying form. His eyes glowed a deep, burning red. Two sharp horns jutted from his head, and his face twisted into a wolf-like snarl. Hair sprouted unevenly across his aged body. His hands and feet no longer had nails, but enormous, clawed talons. Human teeth were replaced with the jagged, lethal fangs of a wolf. He was hideous, grotesque, and utterly fearsome.
Without hesitation, he lifted the terrified man in his massive hands. The man screamed, pleading for his life, but the creature's wolf-like teeth sank into flesh with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed in all directions, painting the ground around them.
The room was filled with the stench of iron and terror, and the sound of tearing flesh echoed through the palace.
____
Where were you?" Samad asked, his voice sharp, but his eyes betrayed a hint of worry. Haman, however, seemed unusually calm, almost cheerful.
"I went to Momin's house… to meet him," Haman replied, a faint, reassuring smile on his lips.
"I need to tell you something," Samad said, his tone shifting suddenly—heavy, tense, weighted with dread.
"Go ahead. I'm listening," Haman said, though a shadow of unease flickered across his face.
"Someone… has killed your friend, Azam," Samad said, his words cutting through the air like a knife. His hand trembled slightly as he placed it on Haman's shoulder.
"What… what are you saying? You're joking, right?" Haman asked, disbelief overtaking his voice.
"No! This is no joke. It's true, Haman," Samad replied, pressing his hand firmly onto Haman's shoulder.
Haman's body stiffened. "That… that's impossible. You're lying!" he cried, his hands shaking violently as he pushed Samad away. Tears pricked his eyes, struggling to break free, but he fought to hold them back, his chest heaving with a mix of grief and fury.
"I… I'm sorry," Samad said quietly, each word heavy with sorrow.
"Who… who told you this?" Haman demanded, his voice cracking, a mixture of anger and heartbreak.
"I went to Demara City today. The news… it's spread there like wildfire. That's how I found out," Samad said, his voice faltering under the weight of the truth.
"Haman… there's something else I need to tell you," Samad added cautiously, his voice wary, almost conspiratorial.
Haman stared at him intently, sensing the weight of the words to come.
"The rumor… going around," Samad said slowly, each word deliberate, like a blade being pressed against the heart, "is that… you… Haman… killed your own closest friend, Azam."
Haman staggered backward, gripping his chest as if the words themselves had struck him. His knees threatened to buckle, and he collapsed to the floor, shaking, tears spilling freely now. "I… I didn't do this! I could never… I could never harm a friend like that!" he gasped. His hands clawed at the air, helpless. "This… this is a plot against me. You trust me, don't you, Samad?"
Samad froze, staring down at him. Something in Haman's eyes… a storm of grief and fury. His own heart skipped. Was it truth? Was it deceit? He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.
For a long, tense moment, silence fell. The room seemed to shrink around them, the air thick with unspoken fear and doubt. Samad's gaze wavered, torn between belief and suspicion, as the man before him trembled and broken. The line between trust and doubt blurred, leaving only the hollow ache of uncertainty gnawing at his soul.
And in that silence, Samad realized a painful truth: when trust trembles and silence grows, even the closest friend can feel like a stranger.
_____