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## Chapter 32: *"The Echoes of the Forgotten"*
> _"To be remembered is not always to be real. To be forgotten is not always to be gone."_
---
The world behind the mirror was silent.
Not empty — just quiet in a way that pressed against the soul.
Buildings made of shattered reflections towered around them, each piece carrying a face they almost recognized.
Footsteps echoed louder than they should have.
But no one else walked here.
Only memories.
And those who had stepped through and never returned.
Majid looked at Rana.
— This place… it's not a world.
— It's a graveyard.
Rana swallowed hard.
— Of what?
Before he could answer, a voice came from behind them.
Low.
Familiar.
Sad.
— Of us.
They turned.
A man stood there.
Tall.
Beard streaked with gray.
Eyes full of something between regret and wisdom.
Majid's breath caught.
— Grandfather…
Abdul Karim Al-Harthi didn't smile.
He only looked at him.
Then said:
— You weren't meant to come here.
Majid took a step forward.
— Then why am I here?
Abdul Karim sighed.
— Because the spiral called you.
— And you answered.
Rana stepped beside Majid.
Her voice was firm.
— Who are you? Really?
The old man looked at her.
His eyes flickered.
Like a candle trying to stay lit.
— I was once like him.
— A vessel.
— A traveler.
— A fool who thought he could close the first gate.
Layla, who had been silent until now, whispered:
— My grandfather… his name was Layth.
Abdul Karim nodded.
— He was here too.
— Long ago.
— He tried to warn the others.
— But warnings don't matter when no one remembers hearing them.
Majid's voice was barely above a whisper.
— What happened to him?
Abdul Karim looked away.
— He became echo.
Then added quietly:
— As I have.
Majid shook his head.
— No.
— I'm not staying here.
Abdul Karim finally looked at him directly.
— You think you still have a choice?
Majid met his gaze.
— I always have a choice.
His grandfather studied him for a long moment.
Then smiled.
Just slightly.
— Good.
— Then maybe this time… things will be different.
---
### 🔮 Part II: The Library of Echoes
They followed Abdul Karim through the broken city.
Past statues made of frozen reflections.
Past streets paved with forgotten names.
Until they reached a building unlike the rest.
It wasn't made of mirrors.
It was made of pages.
Books stacked upon books.
Walls built from parchment.
Ceiling woven from ink.
Inside, voices whispered from every shelf.
Memories recorded in words.
Layla ran her fingers along the spines.
Each book bore a name.
Some she recognized.
Others she didn't.
She opened one at random.
It read:
> _"Fatima bint Nabil. Entered the mirror on the 14th night of mourning."_
> _She sought power._
> _She found silence._
> _Now she echoes."_
She closed the book quickly.
Looked up.
— These are records of everyone who came through?
Abdul Karim nodded.
— Every traveler.
— Every heir.
— Every sacrifice.
Majid scanned the shelves.
Found a book with his own name.
He hesitated.
Then opened it.
The page was blank.
At first.
Then words began to appear.
Slowly.
In real time.
> _"Majid Al-Harthi enters the mirror."_
> _He seeks truth._
> _He finds memory._
> _What he does next… determines all that follows."_
The words kept writing themselves.
As if the book was watching him.
Rana leaned closer.
— What happens next?
The ink flowed.
> _"He chooses."_
> _"Break the spiral."_
> _Or become part of it forever."_
Majid closed the book.
Looked at his grandfather.
— How do I break it?
Abdul Karim's expression darkened.
— By forgetting.
— By letting go.
— By erasing yourself from the story.
Majid frowned.
— That sounds like death.
Abdul Karim smiled sadly.
— Isn't it?
---
### 🧩 Part III: Fatima Speaks Again
Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then silence.
From the shadows, a figure emerged.
Tall.
Dressed in black.
Her eyes were hollow.
But her voice was clear.
Fatima.
She looked at Majid.
Spoke with finality.
— I remember now.
Majid stepped forward.
— Remember what?
Fatima looked at the world around them.
At the echoes.
At the memories.
At the prison of the past.
— That we're not meant to win.
— We're meant to carry the burden.
— Until someone breaks it.
She looked at him.
— You can do it, Majid.
— If you're willing to disappear.
Rana's voice cracked.
— There has to be another way.
Fatima turned to her.
— There is.
— Let me take your place.
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Final.
Then Majid spoke.
Quietly.
— No.
Fatima raised an eyebrow.
— Why not?
He looked at her.
At his grandfather.
At Rana.
At the world that shouldn't exist.
— Because this time…
I'm not going to let the spiral decide for us.
---