Darkness wrapped around Nadira like a suffocating shroud, pulling her into a nightmare where power and pain intertwined in a cruel dance.
Nadira's eyes opened, but there was nothing to see. Darkness stretched endlessly around her, thick and heavy like a blanket smothering the world. She rubbed her small hands over her ears and arms, trying to scratch the unbearable itching that crawled beneath her skin. But when she looked down, confusion twisted her face—her thorny chains and earrings were gone.
She scrabbled harder, searching her body, her fingers trembling as she whispered, "Where… where are they?" Her voice cracked, loud and raw in the silence.
"Mom? Mom, please… help me!" Her voice grew louder, desperate. "What's happening? God, please help me!"
The darkness began to shift, swirling like smoke. Two shadowy figures appeared before her—her mother and father. Nadira's heart leapt. "Mom! Dad! Help me! Something strange is happening to me!"
But they didn't answer. Their faces were blank, distant, as if they couldn't see or hear her at all.
Fear blossomed inside her chest, growing sharp and cold. Suddenly, a terrible roar shattered the silence. A massive T-Rex thundered toward her parents, jaws wide and teeth gleaming.
Nadira screamed, trying to warn them, to move, but her body was frozen, trapped in place. She could only watch as the beast closed in.
Then, without warning, warm blood splattered across her face. She gasped, trembling violently.
"It's happening again," she sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I can't help them. I can't save Mom and Dad. Why am I so weak? Why can't I do anything?"
Her hands clawed at her skin, and fresh blood welled from scratches and bites, mixing with her tears.
The scene shifted again. This time, she found herself standing on a quiet street, bathed in pale light. She was wearing the black EMP outfit—the one with dark red markings and thorny chains wrapped tightly around her right arm. The chains bit into her skin, itching and burning, but she couldn't move her body. It was as if invisible strings held her still.
Her parents appeared again, standing a short distance away. But this time, a giant monitor lizard slithered toward them, its jaws snapping hungrily.
Nadira tried to shout, to warn them, but no sound came. I'm useless, she thought bitterly. I can't do anything.
Then, something inside her shifted. She willed her body to move, and slowly, painfully, her hands lifted. She reached out and caught the lizard's snapping mouth with both hands.
Power surged through her veins. The thorny chains writhed like living things, glowing faintly as they tightened and crushed the beast's jaws until it fell limp.
She turned to her parents, eyes closed, heart pounding with hope. "See, Mom? Dad? This time, I saved you."
But when she opened her eyes, their faces were twisted in fear and confusion.
"Monster," they whispered, stepping back.
Nadira's chest tightened. Her hope shattered like glass. She sank to the ground, sobbing softly.
"What's happening?" she whispered to herself. "Why do Mom and Dad look at me like that? I'm the one who saved them. Why does it always hurt? Why do I always feel this pain?"
Her tears fell silently as the darkness closed in again.
A soft voice echoed inside her mind, gentle but firm.
"Hey, little girl. If you want to fix everything, I can help you."
Nadira's sobs faltered. "Who are you? You're nothing. My Mom and Dad said I'm a monster. They left me. You don't know anything."
The voice was patient, coaxing. "I can help you. Why don't you believe me? I think you don't want your parents back."
Nadira shook her head, clutching her arms. "No. That's not true. I want them. I want my family."
The voice laughed softly, almost kindly. "I finally understand. It's you who don't want them. You're afraid."
Nadira's voice trembled. "It's not possible. I can't fix this. I'm scared."
"Let me show you what I can give you," the voice whispered.
"Stop!" Nadira shouted, tears blurring her vision. "Come out! Show yourself!"
The darkness shifted once more. She found herself lying in a bed, eyes fluttering open. Her parents stood nearby, calm and smiling.
"Are you okay, Nadira?" her mother asked gently.
"Yeah," Nadira whispered, still shaken.
Suddenly, a monstrous creature burst into the room. Nadira's heart raced, but this time, she stood firm. She helped her parents fight, her hands glowing with power. The monster fell.
Her parents smiled, their eyes warm and proud.
"Thank you, Nadira," her father said softly. "You saved us."
For the first time, Nadira felt hope.
But then, the gentle voice returned, whispering in her mind.
"This life could be yours. Safe. Happy. Strong."
Nadira's eyes widened. "I don't trust you. I have my family. I'm happy. I don't need more power."
"This isn't your real life," the voice said, cold now. "She's not real. If you want to save your family, just follow me."
The dream shattered like glass. Nadira tried to hold on, but everything slipped away into blackness.
"See? It's not real," the voice whispered. "But if you truly want to save them, you must trust me."
Nadira's heart pounded. Fear and hope warred inside her.
Finally, with a trembling breath, she whispered, "Okay. I'll listen."
___________________________________
The evening light filtered weakly through the cracked window, casting long shadows across the small room. The air was thick with silence—until a sudden, sharp thud shattered it. Salim's heart jumped. She spun toward the sound, her breath catching in her throat.
"Nadira!" she cried, rushing into the room.
There, on the floor, lay her daughter—small and fragile, wrapped in strange black clothes marked with dark red patterns. Nadira's eyes remained closed, her body trembling uncontrollably, as if caught in a storm of pain.
Salim's gaze immediately caught the thorny chains coiling tightly around Nadira's right arm, their sharp edges digging into delicate skin.
"What happened to you, baby?" Salim whispered, voice trembling as she knelt beside her. She reached out, her fingers hovering over the chains, hesitant and fearful.
She noticed blood welling between the chains, trickling down Nadira's wrist in thin, glistening streams. Her small ears were red and raw, pierced painfully by the earrings that pinched her skin.
"No, no, no…" Salim's voice cracked as tears welled in her eyes. She grasped Nadira's hand, trying to pull the chains free, but they clung like living thorns, biting deeper with every tug.
"Please, my baby, I want to take this away. I don't know how much pain you're in…" Salim's hands shook, her nails scraping against the unforgiving metal. Frustration and helplessness welled inside her chest, tightening like a vise.
Salim's own hands soon bore scratches and bleeding from the chains, but she refused to stop. "I can't lose you," she whispered fiercely, pressing her palm against the chains, willing them to loosen.
When her bare hands failed, Salim scrambled to the corner of the room, grabbing a small set of tools—pliers, cutters, anything that might help. She worked desperately, but the chains wouldn't budge.
Her breath hitched, heart breaking with every failed attempt. "Hold on, baby. I'm trying. I'm so sorry…"
Minutes stretched into agonizing hours. Salim's fingers were raw and bleeding, matching the blood that stained Nadira's skin. But still, she fought on.
Finally, she staggered to the doorway, grabbing her phone. Her voice trembled as she dialed, hope and despair tangled in every word.
"Hello? Please… someone, answer. My daughter—she's in pain. I don't know what to do. Please, help me. God, please send someone. I can't lose her. I won't."
Her sobs echoed in the empty room as she returned to Nadira's side, fingers trembling but determined.
"I'm here, baby. I'm not going anywhere."
_________________________________
The evening sky darkened, shadows stretching long over the ruined city. Yazid lay sprawled on the cold, cracked ground, every breath shallow and ragged. Pain radiated through his battered body, but his mind drifted to memories—his family, the battles fought, the hunger gnawing inside.
This might be the end, he thought, eyes fluttering closed.
Nearby, the boy who had attacked him struggled to rise, blood dripping from a gash across his face. His legs wobbled, his strength nearly spent. Clutching a jagged piece of cement, stained dark with blood, he staggered forward, determination burning despite exhaustion.
With a guttural yell, the boy swung the makeshift weapon toward Yazid.
Suddenly, a powerful fist slammed into the boy's chest, sending him flying backward. He crashed through a crumbling wall, coughing blood, his body twitching as life slipped away.
From the shadows stepped two figures clad in strange armor—black and jagged, with limbs resembling monstrous claws and scales. Their presence was both terrifying and commanding.
An old man emerged from behind them, his body perfectly toned despite his age. His black hair framed piercing black eyes that held a fierce determination.
"Leonel, go help Yazid—fast," he ordered, voice steady but urgent. "I don't want to see my daughter and granddaughter's faces filled with sorrow."
From the darkness, a towering figure appeared—over seven feet tall, with black hair, piercing blue eyes, and skin tinged with a faint green hue. He moved with calm precision, pulling a small box from the side of his armor.
"Why do you always make me do the hard work?" the tall man grumbled as he knelt beside Yazid. "Why don't you do it yourself?"
The older man smiled faintly, "I'm not a hero. Just call me brother. And don't say that in front of my granddaughter."
Leonel began cleaning Yazid's wounds, applying a soothing green cream and carefully bandaging the cuts. He injected a small vial directly into Yazid's blood, his hands steady and sure.
"Hero, what are you doing just standing there? You're in a hurry, but now you're doing nothing. Like I have to do everything," Leonel teased lightly.
"I already told you, I'm not a hero," the older man replied with a smirk.
Slowly, Yazid's eyes fluttered open. He grasped Leonel's hand weakly.
"We need to move," Leonel said urgently. "It's getting dark."
Yazid nodded, gathering his strength.
As they rose, the trio leapt into the air, propelled by immense power. They soared over the ruined city, covering vast distances with each bound, racing against the encroaching night.
Yazid greeted them quietly, gratitude and relief mingling in his voice.
__________________________________
A sharp knock echoed through the tense silence. Salim wiped her tear-streaked face and hurried to the door, her heart pounding. She opened it to find Yazid, the Hero, and Leonel standing there, their armored forms imposing even in the dim evening light.
The Hero's eyes immediately fell on Nadira, cradled weakly in Salim's arms. Her small face was streaked with tears, lips trembling in silent pain.
"What's happening?" the Hero asked, voice low but urgent. "Why are you carrying her like that?"
Yazid's face was tense, worry etched deep in his features as he glanced toward Nadira. "Is she…?"
Salim swallowed hard, her voice breaking as she explained everything—the chains, the bleeding, the strange outfit, the nightmare she couldn't wake from.
The Hero's expression darkened. Without a word, he and Leonel began removing their armor outside, the clinking of metal sharp in the quiet street.
Together, the three of them stepped inside the small, disordered home. The room was a scene of chaos—furniture overturned, scattered belongings, and the faint metallic scent of blood heavy in the air.
Nadira lay on the floor, her body trembling violently, blood staining the fabric of her strange black outfit. Salim's eyes were red-rimmed from crying, her hands shaking as she tried to soothe her daughter.
The Hero moved swiftly, lifting Nadira into his arms with surprising gentleness. "What's happening to you, little one?" he murmured, his voice thick with concern.
He reached for the thorny chains wrapped tightly around Nadira's arm, trying to pull them free. But the chains resisted, biting deeper with every tug.
"This… this isn't like anything I've seen," the Hero muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. "Leonel, get me a cutter. We need to try something."
Leonel nodded and stepped outside, returning moments later with a small, sharp cutter from his armor. He knelt beside Nadira, carefully beginning to cut through the chains.
As he worked, his brow furrowed in thought. The Hero glanced at him. "What are you thinking, Leonel?"
Leonel's voice was low, cautious. "It's cutting, but slowly. I've seen clothes like this before—similar to what a dangerous man wore. But he didn't have the EMP logo."
Everyone's attention snapped to Leonel. "Where did you see him? Do you know anything about this man?"
Leonel's eyes darkened. "Almost two years ago—maybe a year and a half—I saw a man wearing clothes like this in a stream. You know Jiyan? He's dead now. On Jiyan's stream I saw That man had silver long hair, demon-like eyes—black scars and red irises with shifting dark patterns. He wore the same kind of outfit."
The room fell heavy with silence. The weight of that knowledge pressed down on them all.
They tried everything—cutters, tools, prayers—but the chains wouldn't budge. Nadira's trembling grew worse, her small body wracked with pain.
Salim's sobs filled the room as Yazid tried to calm her and the others. The Hero and Leonel worked tirelessly, desperation etched into their faces.
The situation was growing darker by the minute, and hope felt like a fragile thread slipping through their fingers.
____________________________________
The scene shifted abruptly to a desolate, broken rooftop under the cloak of night. The wind whispered softly through the ruins, carrying dust and faint echoes of a forgotten world.
On the jagged edge of the crumbling building, a little girl lay sleeping—careless and unguarded. She was about six years old, her small frame curled beneath a tattered black outfit marked with dark red patterns, eerily similar to Nadira's own suit.
But there were differences. She wore no earrings, no watch. The thorny chains that had bound Nadira were absent. Instead of sturdy shoes, she wore simple sandals, worn and dusty.
Her hair was long, cascading down her back, nearly seventy percent of her height, though the darkness obscured its true color. Something rested on her back—a faint silhouette, mysterious and undefined.
The girl breathed softly, unaware of the world's dangers around her, lost in dreams as fragile as the night itself.
EMP