《The Girl With The Crimson Eyes》76: Genesis
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Remnya
Having left the burnt forest behind, Debrin and Remnya advanced through the main highway in Lacacia, connecting the Republic of Razdef with the Kingdom of Rexton. Debrin explained that Karx had always controlled the neighboring country, and his king welcomed them in exchange for protection. The Hunters' influence in the Kingdom was limited. However, Azmon held power over a few rebel provinces, which caused instability in the entire country.
An imposing gorge marked the border between both nations, where massive mountain chains squeezed the road and cast everlasting shadows. Remnya stuck her head out the window to feel the fresh wind of vortexes imprisoned by ancient rock. There was a marked difference between both sides of the road: green and humid to the east and dry with reddish rock to the west.
On the horizon, a large road sign with intense LED lights read: Welcome to The Kingdom of Rexton, and multiple military vehicles appeared stationed on the roadside with armed soldiers.
A soldier holding an anti-Nephilim rifle stopped their car and approached the driver's window with a look of disgust. "IDP, REG ID, and Authorization Letter," he told Debrin, then glanced at Remnya, scanning her from head to toe.
Debrin's vectors emerged from his face, glowing orange, and penetrated the man's head.
The soldier's pupils dilated, and a second later, he smiled stupidly at them. "Welcome to the Kingdom," he said and bowed.
"Thank you," Debrin replied and resumed his driving.
Remnya stared at him but chose not to ask questions.
When the gorge ended, endless verdant meadows welcomed them to the other side. They crossed farmlands and small towns, and the road became a rollercoaster of ascents and descents. Remnya noticed people looked different, yet familiar. Their features faintly reminded her of Brisa's, filling her chest with nostalgia.
"Where's Green Valley?" she asked, admiring the windmills along the road.
"To the west." Debrin pointed to the hills in the distance. "There's an intersection ahead where you can take the road that leads there."
"That's where Brisa was born."
He turned to her. "Do you wish to go there?"
Remnya tightened her lips and shook her head. "No. There's something else I need to do first."
They crossed the intersection and took a sinuous mountain road. A steep ascent began, and Remnya contemplated Brisa's birthplace down on the horizon, wondering if she would live long enough to visit that place someday. Nonetheless, the answer didn't disturb her soul anymore.
The Kingdom of Nebran was the country's capital and main metropolis, but their destination was a small village at the feet of a volcano called Extaquia.
After one hour, they finally stopped before a farmland full of goats and mountain cows. A familiar old man waved at them and opened a wooden gate, allowing them into the property.
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"Welcome, my lord." He bowed.
Remnya stepped out of the truck and noticed a red sedan parked in front of them. The man walked to her and smiled, wrinkles spreading through his hardened face. "Remnya, I'm so glad to see you alive."
"Manzur?" Remnya widened her eyes. "How did you survive?"
"It's a long story." He gestured with his chin toward the red car nearby. "But on my way, I found someone who will be truly happy to see you."
"Really?" Remnya turned around to inspect the place. Several cabins faded in the distance along green fields, and multiple people in Karx Uniforms gathered around them.
"Is she alive?" Debrin asked, opening the truck bed to unload boxes.
Manzur's face darkened. He lowered his gaze and shook his head regretfully.
"I see." Debrin remained undisturbed by his revelation while Remnya's heart began racing in her chest. "Regardless, you should let Remnya know about the recent events."
"As you wish, my lord."
Remnya swallowed and listened to Manzur's narration of the previous night. She learned about Ozura's plan to save her daughter, her encounter with Zeo, and The Battle of Fallen Star, where the lady lost her life and Zeo his freedom.
To conclude, Manzur confirmed Debrin's sayings about Merle, triggering a relentless fury in Remnya's insides and a deep desire to destroy the man she thought was on her side.
"I'm really sorry for your loss, Remnya," Manzur added, bowing to her.
Remnya nodded vacantly while her brain assimilated the tragic final of another friend, a friend she could never save.
"You must be exhausted." Manzur placed his soft hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you get some rest? There's a whole cabin for you alone. You can take a bath and eat there. What do you say?"
She took a deep breath. "All I need is a place to clean myself. I won't be here for long."
"If that's the case, please follow me." Manzur gestured at her as he walked toward a tiny cabin hidden behind a row of old oaks. Remnya exchanged looks with Debrin and then followed the old man.
*°*°*
Remnya stood in the middle of a narrow hall, the air heavy with the scent of aged wood and dampness. The walls bore the marks of time, adorned with ancient war paintings with their colors faded but their stories enduring. In the center, a rustic table and two chairs waited as silent witnesses. In the back, a glimpse into the solitary bedroom revealed a double bed and a small door that led to a modest bathroom.
Manzur left a pair of clean clothes on a chair and assured Remnya she could stay for as long as she wished.
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As he closed the door behind her, the weight of melancholy dropped on her shoulders, pressing her spirit into the suffocating grip of loneliness. Amid the silence, Remnya assimilated her loss. The shell cracked, and the wounds of her soul bled mercilessly. She dug her fingernails into her flesh and exhaled, the pain erupting from her insides.
Remnya limped toward the bathroom and locked her gaze on a stained mirror that revealed the fractured fragments of her existence. She glared at her reflection, marred by the fresh wounds of battle. Her face, swollen and bruised, bore the cruel testament of her defeat. Her left eye, half-shut and clouded with blood, displayed the pain she carried within.
Her trembling hands felt numb as she began undressing, her cold fingers tugging at her clothes clumsily. Her body quivered, revealing skin covered by deep scars, contusions, and dried blood.
“Is this the price of becoming a monster?” Remnya murmured, staring at her naked body with disgust.
She glanced at the hall and noticed something gleaming with the sunlight that seeped through a circular window on the ceiling. Remnya walked toward it and found a blade sticking out under a pile of boxes. She picked it up and held it before her eyes. It was a tungsten knife with an extremely sharp edge.
Remnya returned to the bathroom, stood before the mirror, and stared at her reflection along with the weapon. The dark metal seemed to blend with her hair and soul, like an invitation from the depths of hell.
Her flames engulfed the blade, and even though her heat could melt anything, she focused all her energy on keeping it together to form a lethal fire weapon.
The knife glowed with crimson light and shot white sparks with such intensity that it illuminated the whole room like the sun itself.
“I couldn’t save them . . . “ Remnya murmured and approached the knife to her head as she gritted her teeth. “I couldn’t.”
Driven by relentless pain and hatred, Remnya snatched her bangs with one hand and thrust the knife with the other, slashing the hair covering her eyes.
The favorite part of her body fell on the bathroom floor.
Her blood boiled with frustration, remembering how much Brisa loved brushing her beautiful hair every day. With each knife slash, she let out all her misery and agony, and long black strands of hair accumulated on the tiles surrounding her feet.
When Remnya finished, her hair reached above her neck, and her hands trembled incessantly. Yet, she wanted to keep going. Beyond her hair, beyond all the pain, beyond her monstrous self.
Remnya’s mind went blank, and without thinking, she tried to bury the knife into her skin.
The knife exploded against her neck, and thousands of glowing sparks rained all over her trembling body. Molten metal stuck to the walls, digging holes, and Remnya let out a roar of painful agony. She punched the mirror, her fist penetrating the wall behind it, and cursed her existence once again.
Remnya breathed heavily while her heart pumped ire and resentment throughout her body. She dropped to the ground, embraced her legs, and buried her head between her knees. Her reddened eyes burned, filled with hot tears, but her fire evaporated them.
Nonetheless, her heart cried. It cried like it had never cried before.
The sun vanished, and darkness filled the bathroom, where she remained still with her eyes fixated on the floor. All the events from the past flashed in her brain, punishing her over and over again.
Remnya spent the night lying on the floor naked in body and soul, fighting the nightmares that invaded her head. Sporadic minutes of sleep were interrupted by misery until a new morning arrived.
However, with the bright of the day, her energy waned. Her unshed tears faded away, and so did her will to end her life. Much to her dismay, a simple knife couldn’t kill a monster like herself.
She had no choice but to live.
Sunlight seeped into the bathroom through a narrow window. Remnya remained silent, lost in the void of her mind. Unable to see or hear anything. She had lost all sense of time, and the cycle repeated with another endless night.
Over time, her nightmares became less frequent. They lost their strength, and her sister’s voice resounded louder and more vivid in the depths of her soul.
Brisa asked her not to give up.
. . .
She still had a reason to live.
. . .
On a cold morning, Remnya rose again.
She looked into the cracked mirror, witnessing how her wounds had become less visible. Her eye had recovered, and her hair had grown slightly over the last few days.
Feeling numb still, Remnya turned on the shower and allowed the freezing water to wash off the remnants of blood, ashes, and soot from her body. The water turned brown under her feet, mixing with cut hairs.
Remnya left the bathroom, grabbed a Karx uniform from a chair, and headed to the bedroom. She sat still, contemplating the silence until she overhead birds and cows outside. Even if trivial, those sounds made her understand she had survived and that the world awaited her return.
Clad in her new Karx uniform, Remnya finally stepped outside, and the sun welcomed her with the heat of another opportunity. She lifted her eyes to the sky, unaffected by the glare of the golden star, and murmured, “Sorry for worrying you, Bris. I’m back now.”
*°*°*
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Mo'arka e karbala
BISMILLAH HIR-RAHMAN NIR-RAHIM. Assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullah; Duniya me aise bahot se waqiyat aur haadse guzre hain jo insaniyat aur sharafat ke naam par badnuma daag hain. Jin ki yaad kuch waqt tak baqi rehti hai phir khatm ho jati hai.Lekin HAADSA-E-KARBALA ek aisa dard naak waqiya hai, aur is me aisi darindgi aur wehshi pan tha ke is ki yaad zamana bhi na mita saka. Balki aaj 1350 saal guzarne par bhi is ki yaad taaza hai.Is ki wajah ye hai ki Hazrat Imam Husain(r.a) ne dashte karbala me jis sabr, shuja'at aur himmat ka sabut diya hai, us ki nazir(misal) nahi milti. Aap par intehai be-rehmana aur wehshiyana zulm kiye gaye. lekin Aap ne sachai ka sath nahi chhoda, ALLAH SUB'HANAHU ko Aap ki mazlumi, be-kasi, aur be-chargi aisi pasand aai ke Aap ka zikr baaki rakha aur In sha ALLAH qayamat tak baaqi rahega.Bhook pyas ki shiddat, azizon ki maut ka sadma, aurton ki be-hurmati ka khayal ye sab baatain sabr aazma thi. Magar Aap ne har sadma har taklif ko bardasht kiya. Aap kis daur se guzar rahe honge is ka andaza lagana bhi mushkil hai. Yaqinan ye waqiya dil toh kya ruh tak ko jhinjod kar rakh dene wala hai, Lekin logon ne is ki Asliyat ko nahi samjha ya toh Husn-e-aqidat me doob kar asliyat ka inkaar karne lage. Logon ne aisi riwayatein gadhli hain jinka koi wajud hi nahi tha.Is qisse "Mo'arka-e-karbala" ko Husne aqidat se likha gaya hai, is me koi andhi taqlid ya gair taarikhi waaqiya shamil nahi hai. Balki jahan tak mumkin hosaka hai galat riwayaton ki tardid ki gai hai. Hamara maqsad logon ko sahi waqiyat se waqif karana hai. "Ma'arka-e-karbala" Author: Maulana Muhammad Sadiq Husain Sardhanvi.Aap tak pahonchane ki koshish : ف۔ش۔
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