ONE MONTH LATER

Habit is the tether of a fool. Because Nana had stopped seeing **Kaisar**, she began to wonder if something had happened to him. But today, she suddenly found herself in his library within her dream. However, the shelves were empty—no books, no writing materials—only the mirror that used to show her visions remained.

She looked around, but there was no sign of Kaisar. One solitary book lay on his writing desk. She approached and picked it up. Its cover was made of animal hide, still covered in coarse fur. The ancient texture made her realize that whatever was written inside was not a recent occurrence, but something from long ago. This was not the book containing Lanti’s history; it was something entirely different. Inside was an illustration of a city carved into the heart of a mountain—a massive, hidden empire.

She opened the first page and read:

**"Tushiya..."** (The Foundation/The Root).

*"Know this: a city is always conquered from within by its own. Ambition is never achieved through pity or mercy. This is merely the first stage—the clearing of the path. You must instill terror and doubt in the hearts of men to achieve your goal. This can only be done through the shedding of blood. Strike down anyone who crosses your path; do not worry about the number of lives lost. Spill blood unceasingly until people tremble at the mere mention of your name. Enslave the border dwellers; take their women as your own and their men as your servants. Use their strength and intellect to build a kingdom where no mortal dare raise a finger against you. Do this until your desire is fulfilled. You shall walk with the blessings of the Jinns; they will give you all the support you need. Relent for no one."*

Distressed, a man in the vision looked at the speaker and said, “You made me kill my father with my own hands. Now you bring me this? Do not forget I have brothers; they will not stand by while I seize what is not mine, especially since they are senior to me.”

Suddenly, the mirror began to emit a high-pitched screech as if it were cracking. Nana dropped the book and stared at the glass. Inside, she saw a terrifying, raging fire. A spear was thrust through a skeleton, and attached to the spear was a piece of parchment. She leaned in to read it, but the mirror began to smoke and darken. Near the flames, a figure shrouded in a veil was pouring an essence into the fire, making it roar louder.

She could make out the word **"Imam"** written on the parchment, with another name preceding it that she couldn't decipher. Within the flames, the silhouette of **Sayyid's** face appeared; his body was shaking as if burning, and he was screaming her name in agony.

Nana lunged toward the mirror in a panic. The mirror let out a thunderous roar like a clap of thunder, knocking her backward.

She bolted awake, drenched in sweat. A sharp, agonizing contraction gripped her abdomen and pelvis. She struggled to the bathroom, thinking she needed to relieve herself, but the pressure remained—as if something was tightly bound around her waist. She performed ablution and returned to her room.

She prayed while sitting due to the immense weight and size of her stomach. She couldn't recall the entire dream, only the fire and the roar of the mirror.

*"Allahumma ajirni minan nar"* (O Allah, save me from the fire), she repeated, haunted by the vision.

By dawn, the intense cramping finally eased. Though weak, she forced herself to move so that **Nene** wouldn't notice her distress. As Nana prepared some pap, Nene asked, “Nana, exactly how many months along is this pregnancy?”

"I think seven," Nana replied hesitantly.

"I doubt it," Nene said, observing her. "Look at how the baby has dropped and how low you are carrying. Are you sure it's just seven months? Perhaps it's twins. We should go to the hospital. I completely forgot about prenatal checkups; in my day, we didn't do such things." Nana just smiled, feeling the baby kicking forcefully against her.

That morning, before Nene even emerged from her room, Nana had swept the yard, cleaned the bathroom, and started breakfast. When Nene finally came out, she found Nana in a dire state.

"Nene... I can't hold it. I think I'm leaking," Nana gasped, lifting her dress to show water running down her legs.

“Nana, that's not urine! Your water has broken. You're in labor!”

They rushed to the hospital. Although Nana insisted she was seven months along, an ultrasound revealed she was actually at **42 weeks**. The doctor concluded that during her previous episodes of "bleeding" (which she thought were miscarriages), one fetus had survived and continued to grow.

After a grueling labor, Nana gave birth to a massive baby boy—he looked like a two-month-old infant. When the doctor handed him over, Nana froze. The boy was the spitting image of **Sayyid**, down to the thick hair on his head and brow.

"Alhamdillah," she whispered, pulling him to her chest. She named him **Muhammad Muhsin**—Muhsin in memory of Alhaji Fatuhu's son.

**Meanwhile, in a distant hospital...**

The patient on the bed gave a sudden, violent jolt, as if an electric current had passed through him. His eyes snapped open.

"Imam! Do you recognize us?" Sultan cried, rushing to his side.

The young man—**Imam**—remained silent, his eyes wandering around the room as if seeing alien beings. He didn't scream this time; he was just a shell, his pupils darting back and forth.

Sultan took his hand. “Speak to me, Imam. Look at your father.”

Imam slowly pulled his hand away and lay back down. Suddenly, he began to shake again, shouting, “The fire! It's hot!”

The doctors rushed in. Sultan began to recite prayers over him until the tremors stopped.

"Things are getting more complicated," Abdou whispered. “I fear for his mind. We need to take him abroad; I don't understand what is happening to him here.”

Back at Nene's house, Nana lived in a state of bittersweet joy. She was surrounded by the kindness of Nene and the neighbors, but her heart ached for Sayyid.

One afternoon, while napping, she felt a presence. She opened her eyes to see Sayyid standing by the bed. He knelt and kissed the baby's hair, then looked at Nana with tear-filled eyes.

"Sayyid, when are you coming for us? We need you," she sobbed in her sleep.

He took her hands in his. "Ma vie," he whispered. “My physical body cannot find peace; our souls long for one another. Take care of my life that is within you, and take care of my son. I love you, Nana.”

Nana woke up crying, clutching Nene’s hand, thinking it was Sayyid. When she realized it was a dream, she smelled Sayyid’s distinct fragrance lingering in the room. She took out the silver jewelry he had given her and wept.

“If you had died, I would accept it as Allah's will. If our marriage had ended, I would call it fate. But I don't even know where you are or what state you are in. I only pray that wherever you are, Allah keeps you in peace, Sayyid.”