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AGADEZ - VILLA STREET
It was a type of house architecture that stood completely apart from all the orderly and neatly arranged houses lining the neighborhood.
From the outside, you would never accord it that level of prestige and awe, just as you would never imagine that the core of the house harbored such complex architecture and layers of heavy security that would take quite a long time to breach before finally reaching the interior—their ultimate target.
Slowly, he lowered the large document from his eyes... a paper the color of orange peel, covered with dense handwriting containing extremely important information.
Dressed entirely in black attire that further accentuated his true physique, his imposing presence radiated an aura of quiet authority. Even though he did not give anyone standing nearby the chance to see his face directly... yet those eyes—those eyes brimming with heavy, weighty emotions—shifted back and forth among the men kneeling on their knees before him. These were men he never imagined he would find inside the house, even though he knew, and felt deep in his bones, that they were DANGEROUS ENTITIES capable of carrying a weight that not every heart could bear. He re-confirmed this... he reaffirmed it the moment entry into the house threatened to become their undoing.
From the expansive parlor that served as the HEART OF THE HOUSE—the hazardous junction connecting every hidden sector of the villa, secluded corners that an ordinary person could neither see nor comprehend—he calmly lowered his gaze to the man whose build, physique, and style of dress set him apart from everyone else kneeling in the parlor.
"TAMIM." The name struck his mind again with a surge of astonishment, forcing him to weigh the immense complexity of the threads holding everything together. Three individuals named Tamim had been born, created, and established within the Kingdom of Agadez. This was done for no other reason than to misguide the perceptive, to derail the analytical focus and foresight of anyone who might hear the name Tamim uttered within the kingdom, ensuring that suspicion would never point in the true direction.
With a cold, measured motion, he pulled his gaze away from the man—the man who had spent years torturing his COUNTRY... the man who had outlasted numerous heads of security agencies as they completed their tenures and stepped down with unfulfilled dreams of capturing him... the man who had sown terror within the Kingdom of Oromo... the man who had stripped peace and joy from the family of Ajani Ahmed. Just looking at him kindled a blazing fire within his heart... just looking at him made him feel like handing down every punishment he deserved right then and there. But there was still time... there was still a process... not right now... not quite yet.
He wanted to be a MESSAGE to every faction and branch that had conspired to build him... to construct his crimes... to ensure his existence. Twice he parted his lips intending to speak to him, only to close them again. He had no certainty about anything he might say... yet he believed that despite his massive frame—the very body he took pride and swagger in—it was soft enough that he felt it deep in his core. They had engaged in a fierce struggle, Beeno and the others... until finally, Muhammad Haisam had taken over, trapping him in a corner and bringing him to heel.
Footsteps approaching from nearby made him redirect his gaze toward the source of the sound. It was Omar Salawii and Abeer... and then his eyes landed on the young man walking between them.
Haisam poured his entire gaze onto him... just as the youth's eyes met Haisam's, as if searching for something different—something that set him apart from all the other creatures present in the room.
The heart resting within Haisam's chest stirred... he felt a sudden pang of vulnerability piercing through him. THE YOUNG MAN WAS THE ANSWER TO HIS QUESTION... his face alone was the ANSWER to the lingering, unresolved questions in his mind regarding the house.
He saw a young Ajani walking on his own two feet... and in certain movements, he saw Safeena. This was that infant... that baby who had been stolen away on the very day of his birth... this was that boy, the first blood and the first seed born of Safeena's body...
Haisam continued watching him as they drew closer to where he stood. He felt his legs grow slightly cold as he studied the boy's demeanor, so he clenched both hands and thrust them deep into his trouser pockets, continuing to scrutinize the youth.
If his observation today was accurate... if what his eyes were able to perceive correctly was true... he saw a composure and self-restraint clearly embodied in the youth, a stark contrast to Ahmad Almaz.
The mutual staring match did not break until they came to a complete halt right in front of them. With a glance, he communicated silently with Omar, then shifted his gaze to the rest of them. They too understood his silent cue. He turned slowly and began to walk away, but the words spoken by the elder Tamim in the Oromo language caused him to pause slightly.
"I presume you are the blood of ABA JIFAR... that Ibraheem whose destiny of losing his heir, Saleem, fell into my hands." He spoke in harsh phrasing, with a hardened spirit that his words alone betrayed.
He felt the impact of those words sink straight into his soul... he felt every single syllable... yet turning around to face him in that moment could trigger anything, so he chose to continue walking steadily, his voice carrying its natural authority.
"Beeno... I want this house erased." The brief statement carried a wealth of meaning that didn't require further explanation to Abdii and the others.
AKHNAN
She could not name the exact thing holding captive within her heart... yet surely, something unfamiliar was fluttering between her heart and her chest.
She felt an absolute emptiness between her heart and chest when she found herself reciting the Qur'an after the silence and solitude she had chosen enveloped the room. Her heart kept reminding her of his final words:
"Listening to and reading the Qur'an frequently brings tranquility to the heart."
Slowly, the genuine conviction of his words washed over her—a state of profound peace that she never imagined could descend upon body and soul after facing such a terrible threat to human life. It was that gentle tone of hers that had managed to infiltrate the modern MP3 players equipped with bedside lights. That soothing recitation... that voice radiating absolute serenity, possessed by its owner even before one caught a glimpse of his actual face.
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Just like him... right now, as the sound of recitation entered her ears with such peace and coolness, his face returned to her... his face flashed before her eyes alongside all those movements that projected majesty and pride—from their very first day at the hippodrome... slowly, up to the hours and moments that forged a deep bond between them... namely, the Festival d'L'air. That was the day that almost turned into a tragic milestone capable of wiping out the QWEEN OF THE KINGDOM OF AGADEZ from history, reducing her to the lowest of creatures. Yet, the help of Allah, His presence... his bravery and extraordinary prowess had saved her from that vicious attack.
Slowly, she opened her eyes as the recitation reached the end of Surah Al-Baqarah, coinciding with a question that struck her consciousness.
"Is there anything anyone could ever ruin in this world that equals the value of what he did for her?" The question drifted down gently, merging with another query that followed close behind.
"What if Tamim had succeeded in his plot... what if his scheme had materialized... what if Haisam had not been with them at that moment? ... What would have happened?" The question struck a heavy blow against her chest, forcing her to close her eyes a second time, until her lips parted to whisper:
"Astagfirullahal azeem." Accompanied by that familiar presence in her ears... with that voice of his... with that softness in his tone that had become like a guiding light for her, until she felt her composure return—a moment that coincided with the call to prayer (Adhan) chiming from her phone resting nearby.
She stared at the phone as if listening and waiting for something. The Adhan played softly... the kind of call to prayer performed at Masjid Al-Haram during every one of the five daily prayers. She did not take her eyes off it until the Adhan finished playing.
Slowly, she reached out and tapped the screen. He was the one who had set up this Adhan app on her phone that day he took her to that house... that mysterious house whose location in Agadez she still didn't know, nor whose house it truly was. At the time, that call to prayer had felt like an annoyance to her... because whenever prayer time entered, it would persistently buzz until she dropped everything to perform the prayer. She had tried every trick on the phone to find where he had installed the application, but she failed to locate it, failed to comprehend anything. She had no choice but to resign herself to it, until she finally grew accustomed to it.
"The Messenger of Allah issued severe warnings regarding prayer... he cautioned us to guard its times. It is a matter that no matter how beautiful your deeds are, if you incur a flaw in your prayer, you cannot pass before Allah... everything of yours... all your deeds become ruined. Prayer alone is the cure... it mends the human heart and actions. If you perfect your prayer, even sins will migrate away from you... but if you pray... yet you do not stop committing the evil deeds that Allah has forbidden, it is very possible your prayer is not accepted at all... or it wasn't performed the way Allah desires it, which is why it holds no impact in preventing you from evil crimes." She recalled one of his statements she had heard on a day they were studying together with Falaak.
Before she could make a move, Birra requested permission to enter. As usual, she lowered her head in their customary display of respect.
"It is time for prayer, Your Highness," she said, keeping her gaze cast downward. Akhnan cast a brief, fleeting glance at her. Was this the very first time Birra had stepped forward to remind her of prayer time? ... So what had happened? ... What had caused this change?
She did not dwell too long on the thought because her instincts told her where the change originated, so she simply shifted her weight and sat upright on the plush mini daybed.
"Tanti Aisa sent a message... she said to inform you that she has departed... she asked us to tell you not to bother seeing her off... let you rest... but she will return within the days of your departure to witness your send-off, in sha Allah." She felt a mild surprise at Aisa's departure at this moment. It wasn't the appropriate time for her to leave, since the festival days hadn't even concluded, let alone time for the return trip...
"Is there anything you require?" Birra asked again submissively. The statement caught Akhnan slightly off guard, making her turn her head to look at Birra. She knew this style of questioning was completely new toward her.
"Forgiven... it is a command from Abdii, which he received from Sheikh Muhammad... whatever your smallest need may be, it is to be reported and fulfilled accordingly." Akhnan spent a few moments staring at Birra, the words settling into a different corner of her mind.
This wasn't the first day her needs were looked after... this wasn't the first time her desires became treated with utmost care and pampering... but today, everything felt vastly different from what she was accustomed to.
Without saying a word to Birra, she rose calmly.
"I need to visit His Highness's library." She stated it just like that. She simply felt the need to consult a book regarding the history of the Messenger of Allah. She wanted to gain clarity concerning the Prophet whom he frequently quoted. Today, for the first time in her life, she felt a yearning to examine the biography of the best of creation and how he lived his life.
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HAISAM
Wound in a towel wrapped around his waist—a towel that barely reached slightly below his knees—its brevity failed to conceal any part of his sculpted physique, a body forged in strength, majesty, and natural masculine perfection. It was a state he never allowed anyone to witness, not even Omar.
The damp strands of his hair dripping with water were enough to prove he had just washed, letting the water soak deep into that unmistakably Oromo-textured hair of his.
From his stride to his facial expression, one could immediately read the lack of energy and the profound absence of cheerfulness weighing upon him. That was simply how he was... because deep inside, he felt as though small, nagging echoes had been ringing ever since the preliminary investigation concluded regarding the youth and the answer he gave when asked his name.
"I HAVE NO NAME." That was the only name he knew as a fully grown human who had spent over twenty years living.
"HE IS AJANI'S BLOOD... THE BLOOD OF SULTANE MUHAMMAD HAMMUD." These two statements, he felt, were things time could never wipe from his mind.
Even now, as he stood before the ornate, oversized mirror of his luxurious master bedroom, he plunged all ten fingers into his damp hair. He drew a deep breath into his lungs and exhaled slowly after lowering his hands.
He had handled various cases involving diverse criminals... he had witnessed countless things that strengthened his faith... he had dived into perilous investigations, unearthing and establishing the truth of the righteous... yet he had never witnessed such pure mastery in inflicting harm... exacting revenge upon the innocent... and such intense rebellion against Allah as that of Zeenatun Zaituna.
He closed his large, strikingly beautiful eyes—beauty that nothing could strip of its name—and once again plunged his five fingers into his hair, spreading them across that handsome, youthful Oromo face.
He felt a burning heat rising from deep within his heart... a heat that started from the top of his face down to his core whenever he thought of Ahmad, Akhnan's blood... her full brother, whom Zaituna had wanted to force upon her as a HUSBAND?
"Ya salam," he muttered, clenching his fist as his heart cross-examined him.
"What if that had happened? ... What if everything had unfolded the way she wanted? ... What if everything turned out according to her design?" He felt a sudden weakness in his legs, a chilling numbness as if the nightmare was about to materialize right then... a unique vulnerability unlike anything experienced even during the most perilous, complex assignments. He began backing up slowly, feeling as though the oppressive weight inside his chest was about to overpower his entire physical being.
Just as he was about to sit, his phone call interrupted the hurried thought. He reached out, grabbed the phone, and checked the caller ID. It was Omar... and only then did he remember he had left him waiting for a long time. Without wasting time, he answered the call, speaking briefly:
"Dhiifama, dhufaa jira" (Forgive me, I am on my way). Omar said nothing, just as Haisam didn't wait to hear a reply before disconnecting. However, before he could make a move, the green light flashed a signal.
It was a special green light he had engineered himself and connected to wherever he desired and needed within certain parts of his quarters as well as other sectors of the palace, completely unknown to anyone. Calmly, he stood up, walked over to the small device, retrieved his mini-system, and walked back to the rounded bed—which resembled a miniature world rather than a bed—sat down comfortably, and began syncing everything to his exact specifications.
Resting his hand on the stool supporting his system, he watched everything unfold. She appeared clearly on the system screen as she walked calmly, with Birra trailing behind her. It was a stride that one might mistake for arrogance or swagger, but was actually part of her innate nature—a walk that under any circumstance showcased how pride flowed through her veins. Slowly, he pulled his eyes away, shifting them toward where his phone rested, and a slender sigh escaped his lips.
He picked up the phone, unlocked it intending to send a message, as something unraveled deep in his heart. Seeing her again made the ache in his chest multiply... a slender, needle-like pity pierced his heart slowly, making him feel as though he had lost a fraction of his endurance to watch her for long periods. Right now, he felt a greater need to protect her than to simply gaze at her.
The call was answered on the first ring, and he brought the phone to his ear. He closed and opened his eyes simultaneously, feeling the lingering discomfort in his chest, congested with a strange emotion he still failed to define. He parted his lips, those attractive, captivating lips, and answered the greeting.
"Where are they heading?"
"The library, obbo."
"Is there complete security?" Abdii nodded as if Haisam stood right before him.
"There is, obbo." A silence stretched for a few seconds as if he wouldn't reply, before he spoke:
"Zaituna... I want her removed from the list of people permitted to see her directly... even if she requests it."
"Done, obbo," Abdii replied. Abdii's response brought an end to their conversation. He calmly placed the phone down.
He stood up and walked toward the mirror. His head still felt heavy, congested with a multitude of thoughts. Whenever he recalled the two youths... whenever he remembered the events of the past hours, he felt his anger multiply all over again.
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He was dressed impeccably in a black trouser and dark olive-green shirt—colors that fitted his physique with a structured, tailored harmony. They highlighted his height and his athletic, muscular build, just as they brightened his fair skin and face, living up to his full title today as MISKILI ZAM.
His soothing cologne was the final thing he grabbed and set down before hurrying toward the door, moving briskly as if remembering an important oversight.
His footsteps caused Omar to look up immediately from his live face-to-face video conference with Bobbo Muhammad Dawud.
"He's here, bobbo," Omar murmured quietly, rising to sit properly on the couch.
Haisam chose one of the chairs adjacent to Omar. Even before sitting down, he extended his long arm to pull...
Summary
The excerpt opens in Agadez on Villa Street, focusing on a heavily fortified and architecturally deceptive compound. Haisam, dressed entirely in black with an imposing presence, reviews a critical, orange-peel-colored document filled with vital information. He stands before a group of captured men kneeling in the heart of the home's sprawling parlor—men connected to Tamim, a notorious figure with multiple aliases used to deceive the Kingdom of Agadez. Haisam reflects on the vast web of crime, the shadow of Tamim who terrorized Oromo and devastated Ajani Ahmed's family, and the dark legacy of Zeenatun Zaituna.
As Omar and Abeer arrive, they are accompanied by a mysterious young man—the very image of a young Ajani and Safeena’s stolen firstborn. Recognizing the boy, Haisam feels a deep emotional shift. When the elder Tamim speaks up, taunting Haisam about the bloodline of Aba Jifar, Haisam ignores the provocation and quietly orders Beeno to have the compound erased.
Meanwhile, in her quarters, Akhnan finds solace in reading the Qur'an, meditating on the profound peace it brings and recalling Haisam's earlier teachings about faith, prayer, and divine protection. Birra arrives to announce that Tanti Aisa has departed early, and relays a message from Morsa Safiya urging Akhnan to complete her beauty treatments. Declining for the moment, Akhnan requests to visit His Highness's library to study the biography of the Prophet Muhammad.
Elsewhere in the villa, Haisam finishes showering and dresses in a dark olive-green shirt and black trousers, embodying his persona as Miskili Zam. Still troubled by memories of Zaituna's wicked schemes—particularly her plan to force Akhnan to marry Ahmad—he calls Abdii via a secure system. He issues a strict order to bar Zaituna from having any direct access to Akhnan, before heading out to join Omar and Bobbo Muhammad Dawud.
Description
- Setting: The high-security, labyrinthine villa compound in Agadez; the lavish master suite; and Akhnan's private quarters. The atmosphere alternates between cold, tense criminal investigations and quiet, reflective moments of spiritual seeking.
- Characters:
- Haisam (Miskili Zam / Obbo): An authoritative, sharp, and physically imposing security mastermind with deep emotional layers and a protective instinct over Akhnan.
- Akhnan: The poised, resilient "Queen of the Kingdom of Agadez," seeking intellectual and spiritual clarity in the library.
- Tamim: A captured, dangerous criminal mastermind tied to historical conflicts in Agadez and Oromo.
- The Young Man / Safeena's Son: A mysterious youth carrying the striking resemblance of Ajani and Safeena's stolen firstborn child.
- Birra & Omar: Loyal attendants and operatives facilitating security and logistics within the villa.
Zeenatun Zaituna: An antagonist whose manipulative history and dark plots still haunt Haisam and threaten Akhnan's lineage.
Analytics
- Pacing: Slow-burn, highly atmospheric, shifting between internal psychological reflection, tactical commands, and suspenseful plot progression.
- Themes:
- Identity & Lineage: The heavy burdens of bloodlines, stolen heritage, and generational conflict (Tamim, Ajani, Safeena's son).
- Redemption vs. Retribution: Haisam's internal struggle between enforcing cold justice and feeling deep human vulnerability.
- Spiritual Awakening: Akhnan's transition from viewing religious obligations (like the Adhan and Qur'an recitation) as burdens to embracing them as sources of inner peace and intellectual curiosity.
- Literary Devices: Extensive use of internal monologue, sensory imagery (colors like orange-peel paper and dark olive green, sounds of Adhan and footsteps), and dramatic irony regarding hidden identities.
