The eastern wing stood in stunned silence. Walls that once echoed with torment now bore witness to something else—deliverance.

Kaif carried Mehrunisa in his arms, her head resting weakly on his shoulder, her eyes half-closed. Her hair clung to her cheeks, dust streaking her skin, but to him, she looked like a prayer answered.

He crossed the threshold of the cursed hall.

And it was as though a weight lifted from the very air around them.

Saliha, standing at the door, gasped when she saw them. A cry broke from her lips, hands flying to her chest. But Kaif didn’t stop—not until they were inside the safe warmth of their chamber.

He gently lowered her onto the cushions.

“Mehrunisa,” he whispered, brushing strands of hair from her face. “Talk to me, please. Tell me you're still with me.”

Her fingers reached for his hand and gripped it tightly.

“You came… through fire and wind and death itself… you came.”

His eyes filled. He bowed his head, lips pressing to the back of her hand.

“I'm sorry,” he breathed. “For every step I took away from you. For every moment, I thought distance would protect you.”

“I was dying without you,” she said, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Every breath was a cry. Every night felt like my soul was leaving me.”

Kaif knelt beside her, eyes rimmed red. He placed a trembling kiss on her temple.

“No more,” he vowed. “No more darkness between us. No more silence. I don't care what curse, what past, what war is before us—you're mine, and I will never walk away again.”

Mehrunisa lifted her hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing a tear from his skin.

“Don’t ask for forgiveness,” she said. “Just… stay. For tonight. For every night.”

He kissed her palm.

Then her wrist.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead to hers.

> “You’re mine,” he whispered, voice heavy with emotion. “only mine. In every war, every pain, every breath.”

Her arms reached for him, and he didn’t hesitate.

He wrapped her in his embrace—slow, reverent, as if holding something sacred. The scent of her, the warmth of her, the heartbeat fluttering against his chest—it was life returning.

"I’m not afraid anymore,” she murmured. “Not of spirits. Not of curses. Not even of death…”

She paused, her voice trembling.

“I’m only afraid of losing you again.”

Kaif tightened his arms around her.

“Then fear not,” he whispered into her hair. “Because I’m yours—until Allah Himself calls me away.”

And for the first time in days, Mehrunisa slept.

Not in fear.

But in his arms.

Protected.

Home.

---------

Mehrunisa slept, her breath finally steady, her heartbeat no longer trembling in fear.

Kaif held her for a long time—until her fingers loosened from the fabric of his robe until her body rested fully into his arms with the peace of trust.

He carefully laid her down, brushing the hair from her eyes with a gentleness only she could awaken in him.

Then, quietly, he rose.

At the door, he called for Saliha.

“Stay with her,” he said. His voice was calm. But his eyes—dark, storming, alive with purpose—said something else.

Saliha nodded quickly, tears still shining in her eyes as she took her place beside Mehrunisa.

Kaif turned and walked out.

Each step toward Bibi Sarwat’s chamber felt like walking toward the edge of time itself. No guards. No sword. Just a heart burning with betrayal and truth.

She was waiting for him.

Bibi Sarwat sat in her grand chamber, her back tall, spine straight, hands folded as if in prayer—but her face wore a smirk that did not belong to any prayer.

“You took long enough, shahzaday,” she said without looking at him.

Kaif’s jaw tensed. He stepped inside, letting the doors close behind him.

“So it was you,” he said, voice low, controlled. “All this time. Watching me suffer. Watching her burn. Feeding my enemies. Pretending to protect me while you hollowed my world from within.”

Bibi Sarwat finally turned her face to him, the wrinkles around her eyes deep with age, but her expression carried the coldness of centuries.

“I raised you,” she said softly. “I held you in my arms when your mother died. I guided you when you had no one.”

“And now you betray me.”

She laughed.

“No, Kaif. I was never yours to begin with.”

She stood.

“I belonged to her. To Chand Sultana. You think this was about you? No. This was a war older than your birth, older than this palace. I made an oath long before your father ever became king.”

Kaif’s hands clenched, fury storming through him.

“You used my blood to feed her rage.”

“You were the key,” she replied, voice hollow. “She waited a century for a descendant with your name. Your fate was sealed before your first cry.”

Kaif took a step forward, his presence towering now.

“But fate bends,” he said. “And tonight, I broke it.”

Bibi Sarwat’s smile faltered for the first time.

“Mehrunisa is alive,” Kaif whispered. “Your curse failed.”

She hissed through her teeth like a snake backed into a corner.

“You think it’s over? She’s still bound to her. You saved her body, Kaif uz-Zaman. But her soul still hangs on the edge.”

“Then I will go to the edge,” he said, “and I will pull her back with my own hands.”

He stepped even closer, now face to face.

“And you, Bibi Sarwat,” he said coldly, “you will answer for everything. The lies. The letters. The blood you spilled.”

She stared back defiantly. “Do what you will. My part is done.”

Kaif looked at her for a long breath. And then he spoke, steady, final.

“No. Your part ends now.”

He called for the guards. When they entered, stunned by the unusual command, he gave only one order:

“Take her. Lock her in the old western wing. Alone. No voice. No light. No visitor. Until I decide how a traitor shall be buried in the land she betrayed.”

Bibi Sarwat said nothing more as they took her away.

But Kaif stood rooted to the floor, heart racing, chest heaving.

He looked at the chamber she once sat in—where he once came as a child for wisdom and comfort—and saw only ashes of trust.

He turned back.

And walked toward the one person whose soul he had to fight for still.

Mehrunisa.

-------
The door creaked softly as Kaif entered the chamber again.

It was dim now. A single lantern cast golden shadows across the walls. The air smelled faintly of rosewater and old stone.

On the bed, Mehrunisa lay sleeping—her features soft, her breaths calm, her hands folded loosely against her chest as if she had found peace. Saliha looking at him exit the chamber leaving them both alone.

For a moment, Kaif didn’t move.

He simply stood there, watching her.

As if afraid that if he blinked, she might vanish again.

Her eyelashes fluttered in sleep. A curl of her dark hair rested against her cheek, and Kaif took in every detail—every sign of life, every proof that she had returned to him.

But the echo of Bibi Sarwat’s voice wouldn’t leave him:

“She’s still bound to her… You saved her body, Kaif uz-Zaman. But her soul still hangs on the edge.”

He moved quietly to the edge of the bed, lowering himself beside her, elbows on his knees, head bowed in thought.

"Bound to her… What did it mean?
Was Mehrunisa still carrying a part of Chand Sultana’s curse inside her? Was her silence in sleep a sign of rest—or a whisper of danger not yet gone?"

He remembered her cries… the night she was pulled into the eastern wing. The strange pull in the wind. The smoke. The way her eyes had opened—blank, distant, as if someone else was watching through her.

He clenched his jaw.

This wasn’t over.

She was here—but something still lingered.

A thread. A link. Something left unfinished.

The curse was not just a spell of death—it was a spiritual binding. A chain forged through rage and time. And perhaps… that chain still clung to Mehrunisa’s soul.

Kaif looked at her again.

She stirred gently, turning toward the side where he sat, as if her body still knew he was near.

He reached forward and lightly touched her fingers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“I will not lose you,” he whispered.
“Not to her. Not to the past. Not even to the shadows inside you.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead gently to her hand.

And for the first time in years, Kaif prayed not as a prince or a cursed heir—

But as a man terrified to lose the one soul who made him whole.

---------

The first light of morning spilled softly through the silk-draped windows, casting a pale gold hue across the room. The storm of the night before had passed—but inside Kaif’s chamber, time moved slower, wrapped in the fragile hush of reunion.

Mehrunisa stirred, blinking slowly.

She felt warmth against her back, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. A steady heartbeat thudded near her shoulder, and breath—slow and even—brushed her skin.

Kaif.

She turned in his arms. He was already awake, eyes on her. Watching her like she might disappear again if he dared to blink.

"You didn’t sleep,” she whispered.

He smiled faintly, brushing a finger along her jaw.

“Didn’t need to,” he murmured. “You were here. That was enough.”

Their foreheads met, breath mingling. His arms tightened around her, as though his body still remembered how it felt to lose her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close, holding him like he was her anchor to the waking world.

For a long moment, they just held each other. No words. No titles. No curse between them.

Kaif was the first to break the silence.

“If I hold you any tighter, you’ll vanish.”

“Then don’t let go,” she whispered against his chest.

He laughed gently, a sound so rare it made her smile.

“Do you know how mad you make me?” he murmured, lips brushing the edge of her ear.

“Mad enough to kiss me?” she teased, eyes sparkling.

“Mad enough to never stop.”

He leaned in, slowly, his breath brushing against her lips. Their heartbeats quickened, matching rhythm like two songs finally becoming one. Eyes locked—soft, searching, trembling with unspoken longing.

And then—with the lightest flick—their lips met.

A soft gasp escaped her as the world stilled.

The kiss deepened, tender at first, then aching with the weight of everything they had endured. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing the curve of her face as he claimed her lips with reverence and quiet fire. She melted beneath him, her fingers curling into his hair, pulling him closer—like she could anchor herself to the taste of him.

He shifted gently, moving above her, never breaking the kiss. Their breaths mingled, lips moving in a dance that was equal parts desperation and devotion.

Time unraveled around them.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a vow.

A surrender.

A return.

When they finally parted, breathless and dazed, her face turned into the warmth of his neck, hiding the shyness that bloomed in her cheeks. Her heart raced like a secret.

Kaif smiled, his hand stroking her hair, his voice a low whisper against her temple.

“Our first kiss,” he murmured.

She didn’t answer—but the way she clung to him, soft and trembling, said everything.

He held her close, knowing this moment would live in him forever—their lips tasting truth, their hearts speaking the language of home.

“You’re warm,” she murmured, lips against his neck.

“So are you,” he said, trailing a hand along her spine. “Though last night you were ice.”

“You found me,” she said. “You melted it.”

Their laughter faded into soft silence again. She leaned into him, burying her face in his shoulder.

But Kaif noticed it then—something had shifted.

Mehrunisa was no longer smiling.

She sat up slightly, her gaze drifting toward the window where the morning sun peeked through. Her body went still, her breath caught.

“Mehrunisa?” he whispered, reaching for her hand.

She didn’t respond.

Her eyes were fixed out the window—wide, distant. As though she saw something no one else could.

“Mehrunisa, look at me,” Kaif said more firmly now, sitting up behind her.

She blinked, slowly. Her lips parted—but no words came. Her fingers trembled slightly as she gripped the sheet.

Kaif cupped her face, gently forcing her to turn toward him.

“Tell me what you see.”

Her eyes focused on him, finally, but the chill behind them made his blood run cold.

“There was a shadow,” she whispered. “In the light. Like… someone was waiting. Still is.”

Kaif’s arms wrapped around her again, protective now, as he pulled her back to him.

“She can’t have you,” he said under his breath. “Not now. Not ever.”

But in the pit of his chest, a weight settled.

The curse had cracked—but not shattered.

And the war for Mehrunisa’s soul… was not yet over.

Kaif stood by the window now, dressed, alert—his eyes narrowed against the morning sun. It should have been beautiful, this light. A beginning. But instead, it felt… thin. A veil stretched over something unseen.

Behind him, Mehrunisa sat silently on the edge of the bed, draped in a light shawl, her gaze lowered. She hadn't spoken since she saw the shadow. Her fingers twisted the fabric in her lap.

Kaif finally turned.

“We can’t stay here,” he said quietly. “Not when the walls breathe with her presence.”

Mehrunisa looked up, her eyes still cloudy. “She’s watching.”

Kaif crossed the room and knelt before her.

“Then let her watch,” he said firmly, taking her hands in his. “Let her see that you’re not alone anymore. That whatever is left of this curse, I will tear through it myself.”

“How?” she asked, her voice a feather.

Kaif’s jaw clenched.

“Molvi Kareem said something last night… after the smoke cleared. He spoke of a book. An ancient one. Kept in the underground archives beneath the eastern wing. It was sealed by my grandfather. Only a blood heir can open its gate.”

Mehrunisa blinked. “And it might have answers?”

“Or weapons,” he said grimly. “A history of the curse. Chand Sultana’s origin. Perhaps even her weakness.”

She gripped his hands tighter. “Then we go.”

Kaif shook his head slowly. “No. I go.”

“Kaif—”

He pressed a finger to her lips.

“You rest. The curse still lingers in your veins. I saw it last night—when I touched your skin and it was cold, even as you burned in my arms. You’ve endured enough. This… I must do alone.”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she nodded. “Then come back. That’s all I ask.”

Kaif leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her lips—tender, slow, a promise without words.

“Always.”
--------

Later that morning, Kaif stood in the eastern corridor once more—his father’s ring in one hand, torchlight flickering against the worn stone walls.

Molvi Kareem had led him to the entrance of the forgotten passage.

“There are spirits there,” Kareem had warned. “Echoes of all the sultans who touched the darkness.”

Kaif had nodded. “Let them echo. I will walk through every shadow.”

The hidden door creaked open—revealing a narrow stairwell descending into darkness, carved with ancient calligraphy and warnings that chilled the spine:

"To seek knowledge is light—
But to open what was sealed is to invite the fire."

Kaif descended, every footstep heavier than the last. The air thickened. The torch hissed as if fighting against the damp cold pressing in around him.

Finally, he reached the stone chamber.

It was circular—silent—filled with shelves of scrolls, dusty tomes, and relics bound in chains.

And at the very center: a pedestal with a single black book, veined like marble, sealed with a silver clasp.

His ring pulsed in his hand.

Kaif stepped forward, breath steady.

“For Mehrunisa,” he whispered. “And for the soul she holds.”

He placed the ring into the ancient seal.

A low groan echoed in the chamber.

And the book opened.

The silver clasp opened with a sharp hiss—like someone letting out a breath after being buried for years. As Kaif opened the book, a cold wind swept through the underground chamber, snuffing out the torch. Now, only a soft blue glow from the book’s pages lit the room, casting strange shadows that seemed to move on their own.

The paper was old and fragile at the corners, but the ink still shimmered faintly, almost alive—like it had been written with something more ancient than blood.

Kaif’s hands shook as he turned to the first page.

“The Chronicle of the Crimson Pact”
Written in the time of great betrayal.
Tied together with the tears of the innocent.
Cursed by the anger of the forgotten.

His eyes moved down.

“Chand Sultana.”

He stilled.

"Once the beloved of the realm. Chosen by the stars. But when her beloved prince wed another—by political alliance—her soul fractured. She did not die. She transformed. Her grief bled into rage, and from that rage, the curse was born."

Kaif swallowed hard." No its a lie" he murmured.

> “She offered her soul to the Jinn of the Fourth Realm, in return for a single wish:
‘Let love burn them as it burned me. Let no heir born of their line ever know peace in love.’”

A sick feeling twisted in Kaif’s chest.

“The curse clings not only to blood—but to bond. Any soul who dares love the cursed heir shall feel the curse in her bones. She shall be haunted. Touched. And if she is not protected, possessed.”

Kaif’s fingers gripped the edge of the book.

“The curse can crack with love freely given. But it can only be shattered by truth. To end it, one must uncover the full betrayal—the lie upon which the curse was born—and name it aloud, under the blood moon.”

A soft chime echoed—far away. As though something in the palace had heard him read it.

He turned to the next page.

A drawing—an ancient family tree. His bloodline.

He followed the lines with his finger… until it split unnaturally at one point.

"Zia-ud-din, eldest son of the Crown Prince, whose lineage was hidden…"

His heart slammed.

A hidden bloodline. A betrayal.

This was it. This was the truth Chand Sultana never knew.

“She was cast aside… for someone else,” Kaif whispered aloud, reading the final line.

“And that someone was never meant to rule. Her rightful love was stolen by ink and secret ceremony.”

Kaif’s breath caught.

The curse wasn’t just vengeance—it was justice twisted by grief.

He closed the book slowly, the echo of those words vibrating through him.

“She must know,” he whispered. “She must see the truth that was stolen from her.”

But to do that… he would need the scroll of royal decrees—the proof of the forbidden marriage. He knew the one side story of her best friend. Now the other part has been revealed.And it was likely buried deep in the sealed wing where Chand Sultana had once lived. The very place Mehrunisa had been drawn to. The place Kaif feared most.

He rose, slipping the book into his cloak.

“Hold on, Mehrunisa,” he said under his breath, voice shaking. “We’re closer than we’ve ever been.”

And above him, in the heart of the cursed palace…

A shadow stirred.

A woman’s voice—soft and furious—whispered through the stones:

“You have opened the past, heir of liars. Now let it devour you.”

.....

Author note.

Assalam-o-Alaikum readers.

How are you all?

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. More to come, it's way. Keep reading.

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