The House of Wisdom buzzed with the quiet hum of scholars, but in a secluded garden courtyard, Aisha bint Khalid sat with Umm Salama, the morning air fragrant with blooming jasmine. The healer's presence was a steadying force as Aisha recounted her vision of the desert ruin and the dark shadow, her voice tinged with both awe and apprehension. The journey to the eastern deserts loomed, and with it, the weight of the prophecy that bound her to Yusuf ibn Harun.
"Your gift grows stronger," Umm Salama observed, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "This vision of the unseen is a sign of Allah's trust, but it demands discernment. The shadow you saw may be the jinn's influence, as the manuscript warns. Tell me, how did it feel?"
Aisha hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "It was… cold, like a void that pulled at my heart. But the relic in the vision—it glowed with hope, as if it could banish the darkness."
Umm Salama nodded, placing a hand on a worn copy of the Quran. "The Quran reminds us: 'Indeed, those who have believed and done righteous deeds—the Most Merciful will appoint for them affection' (Surah Maryam 19:96). Your vision is a guide, Aisha, but anchor it in faith. Before you depart, practice a protective spell, one rooted in Ayat al-Kursi. It will shield you and your companions."
Aisha's fingers brushed the manuscript at her side, its secrets both a burden and a beacon. "I've packed supplies—herbs, scrolls, and my prayer mat. But Umm Salama, what if my gift falters when we face this darkness?"
The healer's smile was warm but firm. "Doubt is human, but trust in Allah is divine. The Prophet, peace be upon him, said, 'No one's deeds will save him.' They asked, 'Not even you, O Messenger of Allah?' He replied, 'Not even me, unless Allah envelops me with His mercy.' Prepare, Aisha, and leave the outcome to Allah."
Aisha bowed her head, gratitude swelling in her chest. "JazakAllah khair, Umm Salama. I'll practice the spell and seek your dua before we leave."
In the caliph's garrison, Yusuf ibn Harun stood before a map of the eastern provinces, its edges worn from use. Captain Tariq and two trusted warriors—Hassan, a skilled archer, and Layla, a scout known for her stealth—listened as Yusuf outlined the scouting mission. The reports of blight and unnatural phenomena in the desert villages had grown dire, and the caliph's approval for their journey had come with a mandate: uncover the source and protect the faithful.
"We'll travel light," Yusuf said, his voice steady with authority honed through training. "Camels for speed, supplies for a fortnight. The ruins mentioned in Aisha's vision are our target, but we expect resistance—human or otherwise."
Hassan, his bow slung across his back, raised an eyebrow. "You place much faith in this scholar, Yusuf. Her visions—are they certain?"
Yusuf's gaze was unwavering. "Aisha's gift is guided by Allah, as is my own vision. The prophecy binds us, and I trust her as I trust you."
Layla, her scarf framing a sharp gaze, nodded. "Then we follow you, brother. But the desert is treacherous, and jinn are not to be trifled with."
Tariq clapped Yusuf's shoulder. "Your leadership grows, but remember: 'And consult them in the matter…' (Surah Aal-E-Imran 3:159). Heed your team's counsel, and keep faith as your compass."
Yusuf inclined his head. "Yes, Captain. We depart at dawn, inshallah."
As the meeting ended, Yusuf stepped outside, the midday sun warming the courtyard. He performed a dua for guidance, his heart turning to Aisha. Her vision had mirrored his own, a shared glimpse of destiny that felt like a divine confirmation. He needed to see her before they left, to align their plans and draw strength from their shared purpose.
As twilight settled over Baghdad, Aisha and Yusuf met at the Grand Mosque's outer courtyard, where lanterns cast a golden glow across the marble. The call to Isha prayer was moments away, and the quiet space offered a brief respite before their departure. They stood beneath a flowering almond tree, its petals drifting softly to the ground.
"Assalamu alaikum," Yusuf greeted, his eyes bright with resolve. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"
"Wa alaikum assalam," Aisha replied, adjusting her satchel, which held the manuscript and her prayer essentials. "Umm Salama taught me a protective spell, and my heart is set. But Yusuf, the vision's shadow—it haunts me."
Yusuf's expression softened. "I feel it too—the weight of what we face. The villages suffer, and our team is small, but the Quran says, 'How many a small company has overcome a large company by permission of Allah…' (Surah Al-Baqarah 2:249). We are not alone."
Aisha nodded, her fears easing in his presence. "I spoke to Baba again. He gave me his mother's amulet—a reminder to stay true to faith. And you? Your team?"
"Hassan and Layla are skilled and loyal," Yusuf said. "We'll scout the ruins, guided by your vision. The relic you saw—it's our hope."
A sudden breeze stirred the petals, and their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them. In that moment, they felt the prophecy's pull, not as a burden, but as a shared calling. Aisha's voice was soft but firm. "Whatever we face, Yusuf, we face it with Allah's guidance."
He smiled, a rare warmth breaking through his warrior's reserve. "And with each other."
They spread their prayer mats, joining the congregation for Isha. As they recited Surah Al-Fil, the words fortified their spirits: "Did He not make their plan go astray?" Their dua's rose together: "O Allah, protect us and make our mission a light for the ummah."
As they parted under the starlit sky, Baghdad's minarets stood sentinel, and the desert beckoned. Tomorrow, they would step into the unknown, two souls bound by faith, ready to answer the prophecy's call.