Mumin stands outside the warehouse. Imolodia's agents surround the area, dressed in black, carrying heavy weapons. One of them steps toward him.
"You're safe now. Come with us."
Before Mumin can say anything, a powerful blow strikes the back of his head—the butt of a rifle. The world spins. Darkness floods his vision.
He falls to the ground, unconscious.
Darkness. Then light.
Mumin opens his eyes. He is standing on the peak of a mountain. All around him is green. Below lies a vast valley. In the distance, rows of mountains. The sun is setting, painting the sky orange and red. It is more beautiful than anywhere he has ever seen.
A voice calls from behind him.
"Mumin."
He turns.
Zara stands there. Wearing a burqa. A hijab. That same smile in her eyes. The girl from Fez, Morocco—the one who had been everything to him.
Tears fill Mumin's eyes. "Zara… you?"
She smiles. "It's me."
He steps forward and takes her hand. It feels warm. Real. "Why are you here? Where is this?"
Zara says softly, "I came just to tell you—I have to go now. I have to go home."
Mumin tightens his grip. "No! Don't go yet. Just a little later. You just arrived. Stay a little. Please."
She shakes her head. "No. I have to go."
Tears stream down his face. "Do you know how much I miss you? Do you know every morning I look at your picture? Every prayer, I make dua for you? Zara, please… just stay a little."
She looks at him with affection in her eyes. But slowly, she pulls her hand away.
"I have to go, Mumin."
She steps back. One step. Two steps. Her body begins to blend into the darkness, as if the shadows are swallowing her.
Mumin runs forward, trying to grab her. But his hands grasp nothing. Only emptiness.
For the last time, Zara smiles. She whispers, "Allah Hafiz."
Then darkness. Complete darkness.
Mumin stands alone on the mountaintop. The valley below. The distant mountains. But everything is gray now. Pale. Zara is gone. Nothing remains.
He screams, "Zara!"
No response.
Only the sound of the wind. And his own crying.
Suddenly—a violent jolt.
Mumin opens his eyes.
He is inside an airplane. His hands and feet are not tied, but armed men surround him. Imolodia's agents. One sits beside him.
"You're awake? Good. We have a long way to go."
Mumin understands—it wasn't real. He hadn't truly seen Zara. It was a hallucination created by his own mind. Like Musa's birth. But so real. So close.
He looks out the window. Clouds drift beneath them. An unknown land below.
Musa whispers, "She's gone. Your Zara is gone. Now there's only me."
Mumin says nothing. He closes his eyes.
The plane lands in an unfamiliar city.
Imolodia.
As soon as he steps outside, he sees a strange country. Tall buildings everywhere—but gray. No color. People move quickly through the streets, no smiles on their faces. In the distance stands a massive military base—tanks, soldiers, advanced weapons.
They put him into a black car. It drives toward an unknown destination.
Hours later, the car stops in front of a massive building. Barbed wire surrounds it. Guards everywhere. Heavy security.
Mumin is taken inside. A long corridor. Many doors. All closed.
The last door opens.
Inside is a vast chamber. Monitors cover the walls, displaying images from around the world. In the center stands a large table. On the other side sits a man.
The man rises.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Wearing a military uniform covered in medals. A fake smile on his face. Ice-cold eyes.
"Welcome, Mumin. I am General Xavier Crane, Chief of Imolodia Military Intelligence."
Mumin remains silent.
The General steps closer. "You're probably wondering—why go to so much trouble for a crazy boy like you?"
Mumin raises his eyes.
The General smiles. "Yes, I've read your file. Dissociative Identity Disorder. A second personality named Musa. But do you know—this Musa is your greatest strength?"
He opens a file on the table. Mumin's photo. No photo of Musa—because Musa cannot be photographed. Pages of documents.
"We have a project," the General continues. "'The Last Sun.' A weapon capable of destroying all life on Earth. But to operate it at full capacity, we need a specific brainwave pattern. And that pattern exists inside you—inside Musa. Musa's rage, his fearlessness, his power—these will make our weapon unstoppable."
Mumin whispers, "You want to destroy the world?"
The General laughs. "Not destroy—control. We want to become the world's only superpower. Any country that refuses to obey us—we will erase their cities in moments. Then no one will stand against us. Peace will be established—our peace."
Mumin's legs tremble. He steadies himself against the wall.
The General presses a button. A world map appears on the monitors, marked with red dots.
"These red marks are our secret bases. We have people on every continent. Eyes inside every government. We know everything. We see everything. And you, Mumin—you will now become part of us."
Mumin shakes his head. "I can't. I'm just a crazy person. I'm nothing."
The General laughs loudly. "Crazy? You are our most valuable asset. The Musa inside your mind can change the world. Just agree. Work with us. We will give you everything. Money. Luxury. Treatment. Whatever you want. We can even bring Zara back to you."
Mumin freezes. "You know about Zara?"
The General smiles. "We know everything. The girl from Fez. Burqa. Hijab. The one you love. She is still there. We can bring her to you. Just say yes."
A storm erupts in Mumin's mind. Zara. He could see her again?
Musa whispers inside him, "Say yes. They can do it. Zara will return. We will be whole."
But another voice—his own—says, "This is wrong. They are evil. They will destroy Allah's world."
The General speaks again. "Take your time. Think. But remember—you have no one except us. No Zara. No friends. Only us. And we can make you happy."
He gestures to a chair. "Sit. Think. We will wait."
Mumin sits. Head lowered.
He remembers Zara fading into darkness on that mountain. That smile. That "Allah Hafiz."
Tears fall.
But then he remembers the weapon. The destruction. Millions dying. Cities erased. Children crying. Mothers losing their sons.
Musa shouts, "You're crazy! They'll give you Zara! They'll give you everything!"
Slowly, Mumin raises his head.
The General watches him, waiting.
Mumin takes a deep breath. Wipes his eyes. Whispers, "I agree."
The General smiles—satisfied.
"Excellent. You've made the right decision."
But inside, Musa does not laugh in victory. He pauses. Because in Mumin's eyes he sees something else. A strange light.
Mumin says silently, "Ya Allah, You know what I'm doing. You know why I agreed. If You will, You can destroy their plan. And if not, give me strength to stop them."
The General extends his hand.
Mumin shakes it.
But in his mind, he sees another image—Zara fading into darkness on the mountaintop. He stands watching the path she took. That path may lead him to Hell. But Mumin knows—if he trusts in Allah, even Hell can become Paradise.
The General says, "From now on, you belong to us. Your name will be… Agent Musa."
Mumin says nothing. He thinks: Musa? No. I am Mumin. And Mumin means believer. I trust in Allah—no matter what they do.
Night falls over Imolodia. A foreign land. Under a foreign General. In a project meant to destroy the world.
But in Mumin's chest still echoes a verse of the Qur'an:
"And Allah will save those who are righteous."