Chapter 118

“Moosa Bhai,” he heard her again, quiet and fragile, “please come and save me. I beg you.” The word ‘beg’ landed in his chest like a stone dropped into deep water. The words carried fear so raw it made his stomach twist.

His heart dropped, the weight of dread crashing into him. Dread had a physical presence now, heavy and cold in his veins. Panic surged through his veins, forcing him to spin around in place, eyes straining to pierce the thick, white curtain. He tried to follow the sound, to locate her, but the mist seemed to move with her, constantly shifting, hiding her in its cold, wet embrace.

“Alizeh?” he called out again, his voice shaking, desperate. The desperation in his own voice frightened him more than the fog did. The sound of his own voice felt strange to him, echoing oddly through the fog, fading before it reached far enough.

“Moosa Bhai, it hurts… please—come!” she sobbed. The sob was a knife, twisting slowly in his gut. Her voice was broken, quiveri