Nazar.

Eight Years Later...

It was a cold Saturday evening. The twilight sky had wisps of grey clouds painted on it, slowly fading into the oncoming night. A car was standing right outside the front door, across the brightly lit patio, its boot already opened. The brown little house was filled with urgency.

"Mannah get down here now, we're getting late !". Salem called up the stairs and glanced at his watch for the hundredth time. Anissa came out into the hallway, pulling a whole train of suitcases behind her, " Wow !, come on now Anissa, do we actually need all this stuff ?" he rolled his head and remarked. "We don't usually carry stuff more than a few bags on our annual visits, this in comparison is much more... am I wrong ?" Salem questioned.

Anissa sighed, kept all the bags in the center of the hall and placed her hands on her waist. " For the last time Salem, yes we do need all of them !" she frowned at him. " But we're hardly going away for a month, three weeks at most …" Salem protested, and started patting at each of the suitcases, trying to open them in turn "and plus what in the world is in these bags that's making them look like a shirt about to tear apart from an obese person's stomach !" he questioned. Anissa rolled her eyes.

"Stop it Salem, here, let me show you" she pushed him aside and began to fully open up the suitcases. "NO, no we don't have any time …" Salem tried to stop her, and sat down on his knees beside her, "relax, I'm just showing you the things I packed, so you'll be at ease" she smirked at him. "Oh god!" Salem muttered and rubbed his temples as Anissa started opening up the bags.

"In here I've got a couple of extra jumpers in case it gets cold, a blanket if anyone wants to doze of along the way, medicines, a flashlight..." she shone it directly in Salem's eyes, causing him to stumble back "a first aid kit, visiting gifts for your parents and...", "Okay, okay Anissa, stop it !" Salem threw up his hands and raised his eyebrows.

"Satisfied ?" she tilted her head. Salem glared at her. "Oh, and all this is apart from the clothes, wanna see the clothes as..." Anissa started unzipping the cloth bag. " Hey !" Salem raised his voice, Anissa stared right back. " Ok, I get it, just quit it now, please !" Salem slapped his hands together and begged in front of her. Anissa grinned and started putting back all the stuff. Salem stood up "why aren't the kids down already, we're running late..." he said out aloud. "Where's my coat, have you seen my coat Anissa ?" Salem looked around. " I hanged it in the dressing room, wait I'll bring it down for you" she started up the stairs. "Also do drag the kids down here as soon as you reach their rooms, I'm sick of calling them again and again..." Salem asked her. "Just bellow one last time, because nothing I would say is actually gonna make any difference on them, they're too busy packing and fretting over what they haven't packed yet" Anissa replied and disappeared at the top of the stairs.

Salem walked again to the bottom step of the staircase and shouted " I SWEAR, IF YOU ALL DON'T COME DOWN IN A MINUTE, I won't stay here one minute longer waiting like this, I'LL BE OFF !", "I'm coming" he heard Mohira and Izaiah's distant response. Salem sighed, and gazed across the room through the glass window. It was getting darker by the minute, and he was starting to get a little worried now. Night would crawl in soon enough and he didn't really like driving during the night, considering the possibilities of misfortunes that could befall on him. More than anything else, he feared for the safety of his family, for the old road towards his home had deteriorated very much in the rainstorms, and he also wasn't exactly sure he remembered the pathway very well.

They used to visit his family every year during late autumn, when the breezes would blow and make the trees lay down a patchwork carpet of brown and yellow leaves. From the last two years Anissa and the kids hadn't been anywhere except to the supermarket, and the kids to their high school. Pitargou's condition hadn't been normal, there seemed to have been some tension on the borders that had risen during the years, and Salem had been needed immediately on the frontlines. He was very patriotic, and had taken upon himself to serve his motherland with his sweat and blood. Like any other soldier, Salem was married to his job, his duty, and although he loved his little family with his whole heart, when his country land called he didn't stop to give it another thought. Thankfully the borders were just threatened, not attacked, and Salem was almost able to go back home -but then the senior commanders decided to help other cities within Cyprus, and sent Salem and other soldiers to fight for their lands within the country. He lost multiple comrades, but won the attacks and was home back again after two dreary years.

Anissa had raised the kids and cared for them the whole time while Salem was gone, and Salem knew all of them needed a good break this time and decided a vacation would do them good. The years ran past so quickly he felt that he wasn't doing justice to his kids as a father. Each time Salem had came back from the warzones and borderlines, his heart ached to see his kids grown up every time, and he regretted not spending more time with them, missing out on all those beautiful years in their lives. When out there fighting, he craved for the peace and serenity of his home, and once here he tried to live each moment amongst his loved ones to the fullest.

On second thoughts, Salem was immediately struck back to reality and looked about. He then walked uptown the in house plants he had grown beside the window, dug in the soil a little until his fingertips touched plastic, and produced a pistol from the soil that he had kept hidden in the hallway plant. Slipping out one of Anissa's crisp white handkerchiefs from a drawer, he wrapped the gun in it and quietly slipped it in his wife's handbag which was lying on the couch. Glancing at the watch once again, he got annoyed, "Mannah, where are YOU !" Salem shouted, wiping his hands with a wet tissue. "She's helping Mohira with their bags," Anissa told him as she walked down the stairs, handing Salem his coat. He muttered a small thanks in return," Why do these girls always take forever to get ready ..." he commented and looked up to the sound of thudding feet on the stairs.

"Father, could I drive for the first half of the road ?". Izaiah appeared at the stairs after Anissa, adjusting his jacket and knocking his boots down at each step. Salem thought for a moment and almost said no right away, but then glanced at his sons keen expression and nodded. "Here" Salem tossed the keys at Izaiah "take your mother with you and get seated in the car, I'll be out in a minute with the girls" and he hurriedly jogged upstairs towards their rooms. Anissa looked around quickly to ensure she forgot nothing, picked up her handbag, and made her way out of the house. Izaiah rolled out the luggage after her and settled it on the porch, taking one bag at a time to put in the car.

A third shadow appeared suddenly, under the dim porch light slithering slowly, and seemed to slip to one corner, peeking from the darkness with glowing eyes. Izaiah suddenly stumbled, and was about to fall headlong on the steps when Anissa caught him by the arm. "You okay ?" she asked, gazing at the ground and at Izaiah's boots. "I told you, you shouldn't have worn these right now ..." Izaiah smiled "I'm fine ma " he stood straight up and winked at his mother, but she gazed at him, concerned,"You leave it darling, I'll keep the bags in ..." Anissa said, and Izaiah shook his head, looked at his mother to say he was completely okay - when his eyes caught something moving in the backyard behind his mother's shoulder. He squinted at the swaying figure in the dark, so far and yet so close at the same time. Just as he was about to have a proper look at the thing, it was gone. His mother was now already moving back and forth to settle all the bags in the car and asked him to get seated. Izaiah shrugged, opened the door and sat down inside.

Within the house, Salem reached the top of the stairs and walked towards the window at the farthest end, walking back from it and shutting the doors of every room, locking them and shutting down the window as well. As a rule, they closed everything in the house every time before leaving for vacations, which Salem did now. The plan had been set already, and he had planned to reach his parents house at least a little after mid afternoon, but only if he had started towards their house at dawn. The plan was altered at the last moment, of course, he'd never been the one to disturb anyone at night. Mohira had fallen and twisted her elbow badly in the morning. The doctor asked her to rest for at least half the day, and the long trips back and forth to the hospital delayed them reaching on the predefined time.

As Salem started towards Mannah's room, both his daughters rushed out frantically and bumped headlong into him, scattering their bags. For a moment Salem glared at both of them in turn, then at their bags, "Really now ?" he raised his eyebrows. He stood there, patiently tapping his foot, demanding an explanation for the amount of bags the girls had. There were three suitcases, two handbags, two cloth-bags and two backpacks as well. A few moments of silence passed by before he said "Well ?" This time both of the girls just shrugged and bit their lips or played with their fingers, avoiding eye contact. Salem muttered 'ridiculous' and moved past them to lock the doors. Mohira nudged Mannah, slowly they bent down, gathered up their bags in their arms, edged towards the stairs while eyeing their father, and dashed down the stairs before Salem could order them to remove half of their load. The suitcases made terrible falling noises as they were dragged on a bumpy ride down the stairs. Salem whipped around, and covered his ears, "If there's no room in the car's boot, I'll take the bags on vacation and leave you two to enjoy here alone !" he shouted after them, and heard a couple of giggling voices in return. He sighed and turned around, shut down the the rest of the windows, switched off the electricity and gas and made his way down to the car.

The road was rough, unending and tiring. They'd been travelling for almost two hours now. Night had fallen, and the silence was deafening, making it seem as if it had been long since the nocturnal creatures went to bed. "Since when did this path turn so ancient and long?" Salem muttered as he sat beside Izaiah, observing his son who drove slowly and carefully along the bumpy road, the sides of which were covered with tall dark trees, like giants crouching on the ground, sleeping quietly. The atmosphere was dense and the air was a little difficult to inhale. "Do we have water here in the car ?" Mannah inquired, looking around. "Oh shoot, I knew I was forgetting something !" Anissa sighed "No sweetheart, though it did cross my mind to take along a few water-bottles, I totally forgot amongst all the frantic environment..." Anissa replied apologetically. "I never imagined this road would've been so deteriorated that it'll take us another whole hour to reach our destination, we'll have to stop somewhere in between..." she declared.

"I highly doubt that, it'll be hard to find a place for rest at an hour like this, we'll just keep going on" Salem said "Izaiah, whenever you feel the fatigue effects creeping in, just stop the car and I'll take over..." Izaiah nodded. Mannah relaxed back in her seat and drew up her feet closer to her chest, snuggling in the travelling blanket her mother had provided, and Mohira rested her head at the window, humming a soft tune. "Well, it's not much longer now till we reach grandpa's house, is it ?" Izaiah asked Salem, turning his head to look at him, when suddenly the car jerked to a stop. "What the..." Izaiah turned the keys and pressed his foot harder on the accelerator, yet the car remained unresponsive. Salem bent over to the drivers side to try and get the car to start, but nothing happened. "Did we run out of gas ?" Mohira questioned. Izaiah clicked his tongue "Impossible, I made sure the tank was full before we set out ...".

Outside the window, the night sky was pitch black, and except for the white light cascading from the car's headlights, their surroundings seemed deserted and uninhabited. Izaiah stepped out of the car, the leaves and twigs crunching beneath his boots, and walked towards the front of the car. As he breathed in the outside air, the scent of rotten leaves and tall trees met his nostrils, opened up the bonnet, the metal cold against his skin, and checked for problems. Seeing none, he shut it down and took a good look around. The road stretched on as far as the eye could see, and the bent trees stood in rows as if overhanging limbs waiting for them to drive by. Izaiah sat back in the car.

As the car engine sputtered to an abrupt halt, a heavy silence enveloped the vehicle, the kind of quiet that drapes itself over the world just before something unnatural occurs. Izaiah, sitting in the middle seat between his two sisters, furrowed his brow. His father, Salem, had already gotten out to inspect the vehicle, grumbling to himself as he checked the tires, the hood, and the engine with little success. He had always been the calm, practical one, and this sudden halt had left him searching for any logical explanation.

"Everything's fine," Salem muttered as he returned to the driver's seat, wiping his hands on his pants. "No engine problems, no flat tires. It's like the car just decided to stop."

Anissa, who had been silent in the front passenger seat, glanced around uneasily. "Maybe it's just a glitch," she suggested, though her voice lacked conviction. "Let's just start it up again."

But Izaiah, feeling the heaviness in the air, wasn't so sure. There was something about the stillness of the desert night that gnawed at him. He turned his head slightly to look out the window, where the moon hung low in the sky, casting strange, elongated shadows across the barren road. A soft wind rustled the dry bushes outside, but that was it—no animals, no sounds of life, just an oppressive quiet.

After a few moments of hesitation, Salem tried to turn the ignition again, but this time the engine didn't even cough. It was as if the car had decided to surrender, its heart completely still.

"I'll go take another look," Salem said, getting out of the car again, his footsteps muffled by the gravel beneath him.

Izaiah shifted in his seat, unease crawling up his spine. It felt as though the world itself had paused in anticipation, waiting for something. His eyes darted nervously to his sisters, who were both staring straight ahead, the tension hanging thick between them. Mannah, the oldest, was unusually quiet, her gaze distant, and Mohira, the youngest, had her head tucked against the window, oblivious to the growing discomfort.

Then, in the quiet, a faint whisper brushed past Izaiah's ear—so faint that it could have been the wind. But it wasn't the wind. It was a voice, raspy and foreign, speaking in a language he didn't understand.

He froze, his breath catching in his throat. He glanced at his sisters, but they didn't seem to hear anything. Izaiah's heartbeat quickened as the whisper came again, this time louder, more insistent.

"Izaiah..."

It was his name, but it was twisted, distorted, like a million voices were trying to say it at once, each voice layered with a different pitch, a different sound. A shiver ran through him. He wanted to scream, to shout for Salem, but his voice was trapped somewhere deep inside him, unable to escape.

The temperature inside the car dropped sharply, and the air grew thick, suffocating. The windows began to fog up, but not with the normal condensation from breath. No, this was something darker, something colder. Izaiah could see the shape of his breath—slow, heavy puffs, each one trailing off like smoke. His hands trembled on his lap as his pulse quickened.

And then, in the reflection on the glass of the window, he saw it.

A dark figure, draped in shadows, standing just beyond the reach of the headlights. Its form was not entirely human. It shifted and writhed, limbs elongating and retracting in unnatural ways, its face an obscured blur. But what stood out were the eyes—empty, hollow voids, and within them, a faint glow. They seemed to pulse with a rhythm of their own, like the beat of a dark, ancient heart.

Izaiah's breath hitched in his throat. The figure moved closer, the shadow stretching long and twisting, until it was pressed right against the glass. His reflection twisted too, contorted in grotesque ways that didn't match his body.

"Get out," the voice whispered again, but this time, it was directly behind him, so close that he could feel the icy breath against his neck.

The car doors rattled as though something outside was trying to force its way in, the metal groaning under pressure. Izaiah spun around, eyes wide, but the back seat was empty, the interior still. His breath came in short gasps now, his entire body trembling.

His gaze flicked back to the window. The shadow was gone, but the air was thick with the sense of something waiting—watching.

"Mannah," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Mannah, do you see that?"

Mannah didn't respond. Neither did Mohira. They sat there, eyes glazed over, as if nothing had happened. The car was eerily still, save for the faint rustling of the wind outside.

The whispering returned, growing louder, a chorus of voices, chanting in a language that seemed to vibrate through Izaiah's very bones. They were drawing closer—they were drawing closer.

Suddenly, the door beside him swung open, and Izaiah jolted back in his seat, panic surging through him. The shadow had returned, its form pouring through the opening like smoke, wrapping around him, tightening, pulling him toward the door.

"Izaiah…" The voice whispered again, but this time it was not a voice at all—it was a thousand voices, all speaking at once, all clawing their way into his mind.

With a surge of adrenaline, Izaiah bolted from the seat, scrambling for the door handle, but before his fingers could grip it, the car lurched forward, the engine suddenly roaring back to life, the headlights flashing on, blinding him. He stumbled backward, his hands pressing against his forehead as the world around him seemed to spin.

The figure in the window was gone. The car was moving again, gliding down the road with an unnatural smoothness, as though the world had righted itself. He blinked, disoriented, heart pounding. He looked to his sisters—Mannah, Mohira—nothing had changed. They were still staring ahead, their faces blank.

Salem, too, had returned to the driver's seat, his expression calm, untroubled. "Alright, looks like we're good to go," he said, as if nothing had happened. "Let's head to the hotel. It's just up ahead."

Izaiah could barely speak. His mind was clouded, torn between the horror he had just experienced and the strange normalcy of the situation. He opened his mouth to tell his father, to tell them all, but the words wouldn't come.

As they drove toward the hotel, the familiar comfort of the headlights in the dark seemed to lull him into a false sense of security. He kept glancing at his family, but they seemed so calm, so unaffected. It was as if nothing had happened.

By the time they reached the hotel, Izaiah felt the weight of the night's terror start to fade, replaced by a strange numbness. His mind refused to hold onto the memory of the creature, the voices, the suffocating cold.

When they checked in, his parents and sisters spoke to the receptionist as if everything had been perfectly ordinary. It was only then that Izaiah realized—they had forgotten.

Everything. The terror, the whispers, the shadow—they had all been erased from their minds.

Except his.

Izaiah was the only one who remembered.

And he knew, deep in his gut, that something had followed them. Something dark, something ancient. The jinns were real. And they were not done with him yet.

The night passed with an unsettling stillness, and as Izaiah lay in bed, the weight of the memories pressed on him like a suffocating blanket. He tried to close his eyes and drift into sleep, but every time he did, his mind returned to the shadow, the voices, the icy breath on his neck. He could still feel it lingering, a cold presence that refused to leave. The hotel room, warm and safe in its simplicity, felt like a cage now—like the walls were slowly closing in.

When morning came, the sun's early light did nothing to ease the weight on his chest. Izaiah sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the cracked wallpaper and the faded carpet beneath his feet. His family stirred in the other rooms, unaware, still wrapped in the comfortable fog of forgetfulness.

As they gathered for breakfast in the hotel's modest dining area, Izaiah's unease only deepened. The others chatted like nothing had happened. Mannah was already scrolling through her phone, Mohira was playing with her cereal, and Salem and Anissa spoke in soft, familiar tones. Everything seemed...normal.

But for Izaiah, it was anything but.

He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him, and it wasn't just the way his mind kept drifting back to the desert or the car. There was something more, something lurking beneath the surface of the morning. It was in the air—the soft hum of the hotel, the clink of spoons on plates, the distant chatter of other guests—but there was also something else. A presence.

He tried to brush it off, but the sensation only grew stronger. His gaze flicked around the room, but everyone seemed occupied with their own little worlds, unaware of what he was feeling. And then, as his eyes skimmed over the lobby through the open door to the dining area, he saw it.

A figure, standing near the entrance, just outside the frame of the door.

The person stood still, almost unnaturally so, as if they were waiting for something—or someone. Izaiah's heart skipped a beat. Their eyes—dark, vacant—were fixed directly on him. The moment their gaze met his, Izaiah felt a chill crawl up his spine. The person didn't blink, didn't move, just stared. A quiet, unnerving stillness that seemed to stretch for far too long.

The person was dressed in old, tattered clothes, their face hidden by the shadow of their hood. Izaiah couldn't make out any details except for the deep void of their eyes—those dark, soulless eyes that bore into him with an unsettling familiarity.

Suddenly, the figure turned without a word, and in a few long strides, they disappeared into the hotel's lobby, vanishing from sight. Izaiah blinked, the air suddenly thick with tension.

His heart raced. It was the same figure, the same dark presence from the night before. But why was it here, now?

"Izaiah, you okay?" Anissa's voice broke through his thoughts. He turned to see his mother looking at him with concern. "You've been staring off into space for a while. Something wrong?"

His mouth went dry. He wanted to tell her—he wanted to scream, to warn them all, but the words lodged themselves in his throat. The others hadn't seen the figure. They couldn't feel what he felt. They didn't remember. How could they?

He forced a weak smile. "I'm fine," he lied, forcing his gaze away from the entrance. "Just... tired."

After breakfast, they packed up and left the hotel. Izaiah tried to shake the feeling, to push it out of his mind, but it clung to him, just like it had the night before. He knew it wasn't over. That thing—the shadow—it was still out there, still watching.

The drive to Anissa's mother's cottage was long, the landscape stretching out in endless, monotonous layers of green and brown. Izaiah stared out the window, the passing scenery offering little comfort. The sensation of being watched didn't fade. It only intensified as they moved further into the countryside.

The road wound through narrow paths, past fields dotted with sheep and small houses scattered like dots on the horizon. When they finally reached the cottage, nestled at the edge of a peaceful forest, the air seemed to change. The quiet was different here, soothing almost—like a balm for his raw nerves.

Anissa's mother, a warm woman with kind eyes and silver hair, greeted them with open arms. "Oh, it's so good to have you all here!" she exclaimed, embracing each of them with affection. The joy in her voice was contagious, and for a moment, Izaiah allowed himself to believe that maybe—just maybe—everything would be okay.

The cottage was small but cozy, with a large hearth crackling softly in the living room and windows that let in the soft light of the afternoon. It smelled of pinewood and fresh bread, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness of the desert night they had left behind.

As they all gathered around the table for lunch, the warmth and normalcy of the moment helped ease some of the tension in Izaiah's shoulders. His family was happy, laughing, enjoying each other's company. For a brief, fleeting second, it felt as though everything was just fine.

But something in the back of Izaiah's mind told him that nothing was fine. That peace wasn't real. The terror that had plagued him the night before—the shadows, the whispers, the presence—had followed him here. It had slipped through the cracks of his memory, and it was lying in wait, ready to surface once more.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to speak of it. His family was too content, too wrapped up in their reunion with Anissa's mother. They had no idea what had happened to him, no idea what they'd all forgotten. The darkness, whatever it was, had taken root in him alone.

Izaiah forced himself to smile as they all sat down to eat, but inside, the fear churned, gnawing at him like a hunger he couldn't satisfy. He knew, deep down, that he was the only one who could feel it—the only one who remembered. And as the laughter and warmth swirled around him, Izaiah couldn't shake the feeling that whatever it was, whatever had watched him in the hotel lobby, was still watching.

It was waiting.

And it wouldn't be long before it found him again