Midnight Ember - Chapter 10: Thal

The road to Thal wasn’t really a road at all.

It was dust, grit, and silence. A long, winding trail across a wasteland where even the wind refused to whisper. The Jeep groaned beneath them, tires skidding across loose soil, engine fighting the heat like a dying animal.

Alishba sat in the passenger seat, scarf pulled tight around her face. Her eyes stayed on the endless stretch of desert ahead.

Reyan drove without speaking.

Between them, a folded map trembled from the wind slithering through the half-broken window. The circle drawn in red — Sector 9 — grew closer with every passing kilometer.

She hadn't said a word since they left Lahore.

Reyan didn’t ask her to.

Because silence, in moments like this, wasn’t weakness.

It was armor.

By noon, the desert had swallowed them whole.

Nothing but dust dunes and sunburnt trees.

Then — a glint in the distance.

Metal.

Barely visible.

Camouflaged beneath sand and rock.

The Facility.

They parked the Jeep a hundred meters away, crouched behind dunes, binoculars in hand.

Alishba adjusted her camera lens.

One watchtower.80Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8EjzOE1vuY
Two patrolling guards.80Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjYGkUIIFVL
No outer wall — but satellite panels visible on the roof.

Reyan spoke softly. “It’s mobile. Packed in steel containers. They move it every seventy-two hours.”

Alishba studied the pattern of guards. “Only two on foot?”

“They don’t need more,” Reyan replied. “What’s inside is what matters.”

She exhaled.

And whispered the words that scared her the most.

“Daniyal is in there.”

They waited until dusk.

Under the orange light, shadows stretched longer than the walls themselves.

Perfect cover.

Reyan disarmed one guard. Silently. Precisely.

Alishba moved like a phantom, staying close, knees skimming dust.

They entered through the eastern bay — a broken panel Reyan had spotted through his scope.

Inside: silence.

Rows of containers. Each marked UNTRACEABLE.

A hallway led underground — narrow, suffocating, painted with military gray.

Reyan paused at a fork.

Then nodded left.

He remembered this layout.

It was the same model used in Base-17.

And it was there that he’d once left Daniyal behind.

The door was unmarked. No guards.

Just a steel knob and a sensor pad.

Reyan pulled a chip from his belt — one Zahra had given him. Swiped it.

The door clicked.

Opened.

Alishba stepped in first.

The room smelled of antiseptic and electricity.

A single chair sat in the middle.

Metal.

Strapped.

Blood dried on the arms.

And on the floor — a chain of symbols written in black marker.

Reyan crouched.

“Coordinates.”

Alishba looked around. “Where is he?”

Then—

A sound.

From the vent.

Low. Ragged breathing.

She rushed to it.

Opened the panel.

Inside, curled and shaking, half-conscious and half-mad—

Daniyal.

She didn’t speak at first.

Just stared.

Because he wasn’t the boy from her photos.

He wasn’t even the man from her memories.

He was thinner. Eyes sunken. Beard grown. Arms trembling like wires about to snap.

But he still had that look.

The one that always said: Don’t cry for me. Win for me.

And she didn’t cry.

She reached in. Grabbed his arms. Pulled him out.

He collapsed into her lap, coughing, eyes fluttering open.

“Mouse,” he rasped.

She froze.

He remembered her nickname.

Alishba swallowed.

“I found you.”

He gave a weak smile.

“No… I left clues… so you’d stop.”

She shook her head, tears threatening.

“I didn’t come this far to stop.”

His hand reached for her camera.

Still strapped around her neck.

His fingers brushed the lens, cracked slightly at the edge.

“You’re still shooting the truth…”

She nodded.

“And I’m still bleeding for it.”

Reyan stood watch as Alishba gave him water.

Daniyal’s voice came slow, broken.

“They turned me into something. Then tried to erase me when I started remembering. Zahra helped me plant the letter.”

Reyan stepped forward. “We need to leave. Now. Extraction window is closing.”

Daniyal tried to rise.

Failed.

Reyan grabbed his arm and slung him over his shoulder.

But before they could move—

An alarm.

Red lights flashed.

Footsteps thundered.

They’d been spotted.

Reyan led them through the back corridor, bullets echoing in distant halls. Alishba kept her brother steady, camera banging against her chest with every step.

Then — the blast.

A wall behind them exploded.

Dust. Fire.

A shot grazed Reyan’s shoulder. He winced but didn’t slow.

He tossed Daniyal into the back of the Jeep, started the engine with blood-slick hands.

Alishba climbed in, ducking.

They sped through the desert like mad ghosts, tires slicing sand.

Behind them — the facility went dark.

No one followed.

Because by the time the dust cleared… they were already gone.

That night, they reached the edge of the Cholistan border.

Reyan’s contact met them in a shuttered bus terminal.

Daniyal was half-unconscious but alive.

Alishba sat beside him, hand gripping his.

He opened his eyes.

Whispered, “You shouldn’t have come.”

She smiled bitterly.

“And let the story end without me?”

He coughed a laugh.

“You always were dramatic.”

Reyan approached.

“We’ll keep moving. They’ll follow us.”

Daniyal nodded. “There’s more… buried in me. Files. Codes. Things they don’t want you to find.”

Alishba looked up.

“You’ll tell us everything?”

He met her eyes.

And said something she didn’t expect.

“No. I’ll show you.”

ns216.73.216.223da2

Reading Theme:

Font Size:

Line Spacing:

Paragraph Spacing:

Load the next issue automatically