Raka's house, which had been deathly silent and oppressive just moments before, was now filled with the powerful rumble of sacred verses.
Kiai Jaffar stood firmly in the center of the living room, his face tense. He had called dozens of his santri from the pesantren. In less than an hour, twenty of his most skilled students in rukyah had arrived in groups, carrying tasbih, zamzam water, and salt that had been blessed with prayers.
"We won't sleep tonight," Kiai Jaffar said calmly but with steel in his voice. "The creature that took Laras is no ordinary jinn. It is extremely powerful and has already formed a blood bond. We must use all our strength. Raka, you will recite with us. Do not lose hope."
Raka could only nod weakly. His eyes were swollen from crying, his face pale, and his body still trembling. The sacred bond of his marriage felt completely severed. He felt utterly empty.
The santri formed a large circle that filled both the living room and the central hall. They sat cross-legged on the floor, which was still in disarray from the earlier supernatural wind. Some held open Qur'ans on their laps.
Kiai Jaffar began in a loud, clear voice:
"Bismillahirrahmanirrahim… Audzubillahi minasy syaithanir rajim…"
All the santri immediately joined in unison. Their voices thundered as they recited Ayatul Kursi repeatedly, then continued with Surah Al-Jinn, Surah An-Nas, and Surah Al-Falaq. A powerful spiritual vibration instantly filled the entire house.
The air grew heavy. The lights, which had just come back on, began flickering again. The lingering musk scent on the walls started to churn violently, as if resisting the holy verses.
Suddenly, one of the younger santri convulsed. His eyes rolled upward, and his voice changed into a woman's piercing scream:
"She belongs to me! Laras is mine! You will never take her back!"
Kiai Jaffar immediately splashed zamzam water toward the young man while shouting firmly:
"Get out, you cursed creature! By Allah, the One and Only, I expel you from this house!"
The santri recited even louder. The shouts of "Allahu Akbar!" and the rukyah verses echoed outside the house. Neighbors who heard the commotion grew worried and peeked from behind their fences, but none dared to come closer.
Raka joined in the recitation, tears streaming down his face. His chest felt tight. He kept imagining Laras suffering in another realm, perhaps enduring the agony of giving birth to that jinn child.
Suddenly, a cold wind swept through the room. The already broken curtain rods swayed on their own. Several glasses in the kitchen shattered without being touched. One santri fainted, blood trickling from his nose.
Kiai Jaffar remained steadfast. He raised his right hand high, gripping his tasbih tightly.
"Ya Allah! By Your Greatest Name, return Laras to her lawful husband! Sever every spell, every blood tie, and every supernatural bond created by that rebellious jinn! Laa haula wa laa quwwata illa billah!"
All the santri answered with a thunderous "Ameen!"
In the jinn realm, Zahir — who had been cradling their baby — suddenly groaned. His body jerked. He felt a strong pull coming from the human world.
"They dare…" Zahir hissed, a cruel smirk forming on his lips. His eyes flared a darker red. "They're trying to take you from me, Jamila."
Laras, who was only half-conscious, could only cry softly while hugging their child.
Back in the human world, Kiai Jaffar recited with even greater intensity. Sweat poured down his face. The room felt like a battlefield of spiritual warfare. The once-thick musk scent now mixed with the foul smell of blood and smoke.
Raka knelt in the middle of the circle, weeping as he prayed.
"Laras, please hold on, my love! I will bring you back. I promise…"
***
In the jinn realm, Zahir's crimson eyes darkened with fresh desire as he watched Laras nursing their child. The baby eventually drifted into a deep sleep. With a wave of his hand, Zahir made the infant float gently onto a velvet cradle floating nearby, surrounded by protective runes.
He turned back to Laras, his gaze burning.
"You've fed him. Now it's my turn again."
Before Laras could protest, Zahir was on her. He pushed her down onto the silk sheets, spreading her legs wide with impatient strength. Her body, magically healed and no longer bound by human postpartum limitations, responded against her will — still sensitive, still slick from earlier.
"Zahir… wait—" she gasped, but her words dissolved into a sharp moan as he thrust into her in one powerful stroke. He filled her completely, stretching her walls with his thick, hot length.
"Ahh…!" Laras cried out, her back arching high.
Zahir groaned in pleasure, gripping her hips possessively as he began to move — deep, rhythmic, and relentless. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed through the grand chamber. He leaned down, sucking hard on her leaking nipples again, drinking her milk while pounding into her.
Laras's moans grew louder, uncontrollable. "Aahh! Zahir… ahhn… too deep—!"
In the human world, the santri's voices suddenly faltered.
A woman's sensual, breathless moans drifted through the air — clear, intimate, and heavy with pleasure. The sounds seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Ahh… Zahir… yes… aahhn!"
Raka's face went deathly pale. His blood ran cold.
"That… that's Laras's voice…" he whispered, voice cracking.
The moans grew louder, more desperate.
"Zahir… ahh! Slow down… I'm still sensitive— ahhn!!"
Kiai Jaffar's expression hardened. He raised his voice even louder, reciting Ayatul Kursi with greater force, but the erotic sounds continued to intertwine with the holy verses like a dark mockery.
Some of the younger santri exchanged uneasy glances, their faces flushed with embarrassment and fear. The heavy musk scent thickened again, now mixed with the unmistakable aroma of sex and arousal.
In the jinn palace, Zahir smirked as he flipped Laras onto her hands and knees. He entered her from behind with a powerful thrust, one hand fisting her hair while the other squeezed her swollen breast, spraying milk onto the sheets.
"You hear that?" he growled into her ear, voice dripping with triumph. "They can hear you in your old world. They can hear how much you're enjoying your real husband."
Laras shook her head, tears falling, but another loud, broken moan tore from her throat as Zahir hit a particularly deep spot.
"Aaaahhh! Zahir—!"
The sound rang out crystal clear inside Raka's house.
Raka clutched his chest, looking like he might collapse. "Laras… no… Laras!!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with pain and rage.
Kiai Jaffar splashed more zamzam water around the room while shouting, "I seek refuge in Allah from the accursed Satan! Return to your realm, you cursed creature!"
Yet Laras's moans and cries of pleasure continued to echo through the walls, growing wilder as Zahir took her harder.
"Tell them who you belong to," Zahir commanded, slamming into her mercilessly. "Scream it, Jamila."
Laras's voice, layered with overwhelming pleasure and shame, rang out for everyone to hear:
"Zahir…! I'm… ahhn… I'm yours— aahh!!"
The spiritual atmosphere in the house grew chaotic. Several santri began trembling, fighting against the seductive pull of the sounds. Raka covered his ears, sobbing openly as the intimate noises of his wife being claimed by the jinn played like a cruel symphony around them.
Zahir laughed darkly in the other realm, thrusting faster, chasing his release while Laras shattered beneath him once again — her loud, ecstasy-filled cry echoing through both worlds.