The distance between them closed.
Not fully.
Not yet.
But enough.
Feroz stood still, his chest rising slowly, his eyes locked onto the figure.
Every instinct inside him screamed—
Run.
But his feet didn't move.
They couldn't.
Because something stronger than fear held him there.
Recognition.
The figure stopped just beyond the boundary of the golden markings.
It didn't cross.
It didn't need to.
"…you feel it now," it said.
Feroz's throat went dry.
"What are you?" he asked, his voice quieter this time—not from weakness, but from caution.
The figure didn't answer immediately.
Instead—
It lifted its hand.
Slowly.
Mirroring him.
Feroz's own hand twitched in response—
Unconsciously.
As if something inside him was syncing.
Haroon saw it.
"…this is not right," he said under his breath.
Younus's eyes narrowed.
"No… this is exactly what we feared."
Zarqaan remained still.
Watching.
Waiting.
Because this—
This was not his moment to interrupt.
The figure tilted its head.
"…you've always asked the wrong question."
Feroz frowned.
"What do you mean?"
A pause.
Then—
"…not what I am."
Another step forward.
The air shifted.
"…but when."
Feroz's heart skipped.
"When…?"
The word felt wrong.
Out of place.
Impossible.
The figure's voice softened—
But grew heavier.
"…you've seen me before."
Feroz's mind raced.
The dream.
The grave.
The laughter.
"No…" he whispered.
"That's not real."
The figure responded instantly—
"…then why do you remember it?"
Silence.
Feroz couldn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
Behind him, Haroon stepped forward again, unable to hold back.
"Feroz, break the connection. Now."
But Feroz didn't move.
Because the figure spoke again—
And this time—
It didn't sound distant.
It sounded close.
Too close.
"…you already stood where I stand."
Feroz's breath caught.
"What?"
The figure's hand lowered slightly.
"…under the tree."
Everything stopped.
The valley.
The wind.
Even the faint glow of the markings dimmed.
Feroz's voice trembled—
Not from fear alone—
But from something deeper.
"You're lying."
The figure didn't react.
"…people standing around you."
A pause.
"…whispering."
Feroz shook his head slowly.
"No…"
"…police calling someone."
His knees felt weak.
"No!"
"…and you…"
The figure's voice dropped—
"…not moving."
"STOP!" Feroz shouted.
The valley shook.
Energy burst outward—
Wild.
Uncontrolled.
The golden markings flared violently—
Reacting to his instability.
Haroon moved instantly—
Grabbing his shoulder.
"Feroz! Look at me!"
But Feroz's eyes—
They weren't on Haroon.
They were locked—
On the figure.
Because now—
It was closer.
Much closer.
And for the first time—
The darkness around its face shifted.
Not fully revealing—
But enough.
Enough for Feroz to see—
A shape.
Familiar.
Terrifying.
"…that's not possible…" Feroz whispered.
Zarqaan spoke quietly behind them.
"It is."
Haroon turned sharply.
"You knew?"
Zarqaan didn't deny it.
"I suspected."
Younus stepped forward.
"Say it clearly."
Zarqaan's eyes remained on Feroz.
"…he's not just facing something connected to him."
A pause.
"He's facing a version of himself."
Silence exploded into existence.
Haroon's grip tightened.
"That's not possible."
Younus didn't argue.
Because deep down—
He felt it too.
The figure spoke again.
Softly.
Calmly.
"…you called me a dream."
Another step.
"…a fear."
Closer.
"…a warning."
Closer.
"…but I am none of those."
Feroz's voice cracked.
"Then what are you?!"
The answer came—
Clear.
Unavoidable.
"…I am the end you refused to accept."
Feroz staggered back.
"No…"
But the figure didn't stop.
"…the moment you stopped running."
Feroz's mind spiraled.
Multan.
Hunger.
Pain.
Abbottabad.
Orphanage.
Mrs. Aliya.
Everything—
Crashing together.
"I'm not you," Feroz said.
His voice was weak—
But desperate.
"I'm not going to end like that."
The figure tilted its head slightly.
"…you already have."
That broke something.
Inside.
Feroz's energy surged violently—
Darkness mixing with gold—
Unstable.
Explosive.
The valley reacted instantly.
The markings cracked.
The air trembled.
Haroon shouted,
"Younus—do something!"
Younus raised both hands—
The symbols around them ignited—
Trying to contain the surge.
Zarqaan stepped forward—
For the first time—
Not calm.
Serious.
"If this breaks—"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Because everyone felt it.
Feroz stood at the center—
Breathing heavily—
Eyes wide—
Energy spiraling out of control.
The figure raised its hand again—
And this time—
Feroz's hand lifted too.
Not by choice.
Not fully.
"…accept it," the figure said.
Feroz's voice trembled.
"I won't."
"…then fight it."
The air snapped.
In an instant—
The figure moved.
Fast.
Not like Zarqaan.
Not physical.
It blurred—
And appeared directly in front of Feroz.
Closer than anyone else.
Closer than it should be.
Feroz's eyes widened.
Because now—
There was no distance.
No separation.
Just—
Him.
And it.
Face to face.
And in that moment—
For a split second—
He saw it clearly.
Not fully.
But enough.
Enough to know—
Zarqaan was right.
This wasn't an enemy.
This wasn't a stranger.
This was something far worse.
Because it wasn't trying to destroy him.
It was trying—
To replace him.
Behind them—
The valley trembled violently.
Haroon stepped forward—
Younus reinforced the barrier—
Zarqaan prepared to intervene—
But all of it—
All of it—
Was too late.
Because the real battle had already begun.
Not outside.
Not between powers.
But inside Feroz himself.
And that battle—
Would decide everything.