the last noor - chapter 3
Tiltle : The Blood That Remembers
Years passed since the battle between the angelic jinn Malik and the dark jinnhiyah Zahra. Her soul was destroyed, and peace returned. Or so they believed.
But fate, like fire, leaves behind embers.
On a moonless night, a baby girl named Yasmin was born into Rayan's family. She had magma-colored eyes, hair like black smoke, and the same face as Zahra. The resemblance was haunting.
Rayan, now an old man in his sixties, recognized the signs instantly. His heart, still haunted by the past, refused to see Yasmin as an innocent child. He feared her.
Yasmin grew up quiet and isolated. She didn't laugh like the other children. She didn't enjoy prayer or spiritual things—in fact, she avoided them. Qur'anic verses made her uneasy. She was drawn instead to abandoned places, broken things, silence.
Her family tried to love her—but Rayan's fear poisoned everything.
He dragged her to shrines, dargahs, and exorcists. Forced her to wear taweez around her neck and wrists. He didn't speak to her like a granddaughter, but like a ticking time bomb.
By the time she turned 15, Yasmin had been made to believe she was wrong, cursed, and unnatural.
That night, everything cracked.
She ran away—barefoot, no money, no plan. She found herself under an old abandoned bridge outside the city. The wind howled. Dogs barked in the distance. The sky was starless.
She cried herself to sleep on the cold cement. Her body shook with fear. But more than that… she felt free for the first time.
But reality hit by morning—hunger, cold, fear. Her limbs numb, her stomach aching. She returned home silently, hoping things would change.
They didn't.
If anything, the torture increased.
They watched her like a ghost in their home.
By the time she turned 21, Yasmin had grown into a striking woman, quiet and intelligent—but hollow-eyed. No one knew the storm she carried.
Then… she met Aahil.
He was calm, thoughtful—a psychology student studying human pain and behavior. There was something in his voice, in the way he looked at her, that felt safe.
He asked questions no one had ever asked her.
He listened.
They grew closer. And Aahil soon visited her family to understand her past. Rayan sat him down, face grim, and spoke of Zahra, of death, and the angelic jinn Malik who once saved them. He explained how Yasmin was born on a no-moon night, just like Zahra. That she was her reincarnation.
But Aahil didn't believe in curses.
> "She's not Zahra," he said. "She's a girl you're breaking out of fear."
No one listened.
Yasmin began spiraling. She couldn't take the hatred and fear anymore. She decided one night—enough was enough.
She went back to that same metro station.
She stepped to the edge.
Eyes closed. Ready to fall—
But Aahil was there.
He pulled her back. Held her. Didn't let go.
That night, Yasmin dreamed—of flames, of Malik, of Zahra. Of a man with blue eyes and glowing light shielding her from fire.
And Aahil?
He had been dreaming too.
He was Malik.
Not in body—but in soul. Returned by the will of Allah, not to fight Zahra… but to heal her final echo, the scar she left behind—Yasmin.
Aahil and Yasmin married quietly.
No rituals. No whispers. Just truth.
And for the first time in three generations—
peace came not from prayer or power,
but from love and understanding.
The whispers?
Gone.
The curse?
Broken.
The darkness?
Forgotten.