Part 3

Silence—like a forbidden tale.
It was not merely the absence of sound, but as though countless dark omens lay hidden in the womb of time, waiting to awaken. Moonlight still touched the mysterious mansion, yet now that light seemed more sinister, more haunting. Rajib and the young soldier, Mun, still sat there—silent sentinels under a curse. Their breathing had slowed, careful and deliberate. With every breath, it felt as though they were moving closer to death itself.

Rajib’s sharp eyes searched the fifth and fourth floors. His gaze was so intense it seemed he was seeing not only with his eyes, but with his very soul. A shadow of deep thought darkened his handsome face. A faint crease marked his brow, his lips pressed tight. But he could not be certain. What he saw—was it truly movement? Or just imagination? Or the play of moonlight and shadow? His heartbeat quickened.

And then—just as the tension reached its breaking point—the sound of a bell rang out from within the house. It shattered the silence like a blade through glass. But this was no ordinary bell. It rang like the summons of an ancient curse.

What followed was chaos. The hunting dogs began to bark, and the guards’ shouts rose into the night. The dogs’ growls were like the roars of wild beasts; the guards’ voices like the war-cries of a battlefield. The entire forest seemed to awaken from a dreadful nightmare.

Rajib sprang to his feet in an instant, his tall, muscular frame now more imposing than ever. His broad shoulders, powerful chest, and unyielding legs made him look like an indomitable warrior. His eyes burned with the fire of resolve. With a deep, commanding voice, he shouted—each word a command, an unshakable order:

“Mun, move! They’ve caught the thieves inside. Not a single one must escape.”

His voice carried urgency, but also a steady confidence—as if he knew exactly what had to be done.

But Mun, with his young and troubled mind, saw the situation differently. Doubt clouded his face, and in his dark eyes flickered the light of realization. His voice trembled slightly, uncertain, as he said:
“Corporal… the truth is… we’ve been caught.”

His words hung in the air like the announcement of a dreadful truth. In his tone was fear, unease, and the deep understanding that they might be in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Rajib frowned, disbelief flashing across his features. He did not understand at first, could not grasp the depth of Mun’s words. His sharp eyes burned with questions. Slowly, he tore his gaze from the mansion’s upper floors and turned to Mun. Looking into his anxious face, seeing the worry in his eyes, Rajib understood—something serious had gone wrong.

He scanned the surroundings with the trained eye of a soldier. And then he saw it: a short distance away, a guard stood with a torch in hand, a massive dog at his side. The animal’s eyes glowed in the darkness like burning coals. More guards were approaching, their torches flaring, their footsteps growing nearer—an ominous procession advancing through the night.

In that instant, everything became clear to Rajib. The guards believed that he and Mun were the thieves. The real thieves had likely escaped, leaving the two of them trapped as the suspects. Rajib’s handsome face froze like stone, his fists clenched tight in fury and frustration. His jaw muscles strained, and fire blazed in his eyes.

Realizing the situation, the corporal could not hold back his rage. His voice trembled with anger, each word an oath, a curse:
“Because of those fools, the Roham thieves will escape.”

His words cut into the night air, but his fury and despair seemed to shake the entire forest. In the glow of the torches, his sharp features looked even fiercer, his eyes burning like embers.

Meanwhile, Mun’s young heart sank with dread. The guards were closing in, their torchlight now falling directly on Rajib and him. The two soldiers were caught in a snare not of their making.

The seamless night had been torn apart. The moonlight dimmed. Only the firelight flickered now, shadows swaying with each gust of wind. The trees rustled, whispering ancient secrets. The dogs’ eyes blazed like fire, and the guards’ shadows stretched long across the ground.

Here, everyone was both hunter and hunted—everyone was both pursuer and prey. The mansion’s walls echoed with the desperate footsteps of survival.

The clouds swallowed the moon once more—
and the darkness devoured every cry, every escape, every fate.

At the sharp clang of a metallic bell, Roham’s three leaders—Hamad, Usuf, and Salih—snatched up their sacks and bolted, running with desperate speed. Their hearts pounded like war drums of fear, every step driven by the hunger for escape.

But as they fled, Salih’s heavy sack—like a cursed burden—smashed against a beautiful, ancient mirror set near the veranda. The mirror crashed to the floor and shattered into a thousand fragments. In the moonlight, the broken glass sparkled like diamonds, like the scattered remains of broken dreams.

Hamad’s face flushed with rage, crimson fire burning across his features. Even as he ran, his voice erupted, raw with helpless fury. His eyes blazed with a storm of anger and desperation.
“I’ll deal with you later—this is no time for scolding!”

Usuf, however, caught the absurd side of the chaos. Even in this moment of danger, a faint smile tugged at his lips—as if he alone could still glimpse life’s hidden humor, even while running for his life.