## Chapter 30: *"The Heir of the Sleeper"*
> _"To inherit a throne is to wear its chains. To inherit a god… is to become its shadow."_
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Majid stood at the edge of the mirror.
Not looking at his reflection.
Looking **into** it.
Behind him, the others watched in silence.
Rana's hand hovered near her dagger.
Samir's eyes flickered with something unreadable.
Fatima clutched the letter she had received — the one she hadn't written yet.
And Layla held the cursed book like it might bite.
Majid finally spoke.
His voice was steady.
But wrong.
Like two people were trying to speak through the same mouth.
— One of us is next.
No one moved.
He turned slowly.
Studied each of them.
One by one.
— The bloodline doesn't end with me.
— It never does.
— The spiral feeds itself.
— And it needs a new vessel.
Layla swallowed hard.
— How do we know who?
Majid looked back at the mirror.
Something inside it shifted.
A shape.
Familiar.
Watching.
Then the whisper came.
From everywhere.
And nowhere.
> _"The heir bears the mark."_
> _"Invisible to all but the Sleeper."_
> _"It grows when the gate opens."_
> _"It blooms when the memory returns."_
Majid reached for his palm.
The spiral-shaped burn was pulsing again.
Stronger this time.
As if responding to something nearby.
He looked up.
At Fatima.
She took a step back.
— Why are you looking at me like that?
He didn't answer.
Because he already knew.
The mark was there.
Just beneath her skin.
A faint shimmer.
Only visible when the light hit just right.
Rana saw it too.
Her breath caught.
— No…
Fatima shook her head.
— I'm not one of you.
— I'm not part of this madness.
The mirror cracked again.
A piece fell away.
Revealing something behind it.
Not darkness.
Not light.
Something in between.
And from it, a voice.
Soft.
Cold.
Familiar.
— Oh, Fatima…
She froze.
That was her mother's voice.
Again.
After all these years.
The voice whispered:
— You were always meant to be here.
— You were chosen before you were born.
— Before even *he* was born.
Fatima dropped the letter.
Backed away.
— No.
— No no no…
The voice continued.
— You are the heir.
— The Sleeper waits for you.
— Step through.
— Remember.
The mirror pulsed.
A cold wind blew from within.
And for a moment…
Fatima stepped forward.
Half a step.
Before Rana grabbed her arm.
— Don't!
Fatima blinked.
Snapped out of it.
Tore herself away.
Breathing heavily.
Eyes wide.
— I'm not one of you, — she whispered.
But now, she wasn't sure.
---
### 🔮 Part II: The Memory That Was Never Lost
Later that night, Majid sat alone with the book.
He flipped through pages.
Searching.
Looking for something.
Then he found it.
A passage written in his grandfather's hand.
> _"The Sleeper chose me first."_
> _I resisted."_
> _I tried to close the gate."_
> _They punished me."_
> _They erased my name."_
> _But they could not erase the blood."_
> _So they gave it to another."_
> _My son."_
> _Then to his."_
> _And so on… until the spiral closes."_
Majid closed the book.
His hands trembled.
He whispered to himself:
— This isn't about revenge anymore.
He looked toward the mirror.
Still watching.
Still waiting.
— This is about breaking the cycle.
---
### 🧩 Part III: The Choice
In the morning, Fatima was gone.
All that remained was a note.
Written in Arabic.
Signed with her name.
Placed carefully on the floor.
Next to the mirror.
It read:
> _"If remembering means becoming him…"_
> _"Then maybe forgetting is the only freedom left."_
Majid read it once.
Then again.
Then folded it carefully.
Rana stood beside him.
— Do you think she stepped through?
He didn't answer right away.
Finally:
— Not yet.
He looked at the mirror.
At the crack.
At the space beyond.
— But she will.
And when she does…
— We'll have to follow.
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