Zainab had once again freed her tribe from tyranny and darkness. Her memory had returned, and a wave of joy spread throughout the village. Children were playing in the streets, women were celebrating in their courtyards, and the elders of the tribe were offering thanks. Yet deep inside, Zainab carried a restless fear, for she clearly remembered the day when the sorcerer had threatened: "I will return, and this time you won't have the chance to escape."
At night she dreamed of the sorcerer's red eyes, and that dreadful voice echoing: that he would come back. Every morning she rose and prayed to God for the safety of her people. Ministers and elders came to comfort her, but even on their faces, lines of worry were evident.
Then one day, the color of the sky suddenly changed. Before the sun could set, the entire sky was drowned in crimson light. The air turned dry and heavy, and the clouds seemed drenched in a strange glow. People rushed outside in panic, and from a distance, a shadow appeared. The closer it came, the louder their hearts pounded. At last, when it landed on the ground, terror seized everyone—it was the sorcerer, but more dreadful than ever before. His height had increased, his face had hardened, in his hand was a black staff blazing with blue fire, and on his robe appeared ancient symbols that carried the marks of cursed rituals.
Zainab stepped forward and cried, "With what audacity have you come here? This tribe will never accept your slavery!" The sorcerer laughed loudly and said, "Zainab, you defeated me once, but you do not know where I went. In the darkness of the mountains, I mastered powers beyond human reach. Now neither your prayers nor your sword can stop me."
He struck his staff on the ground, and the earth quaked with a violent jolt. Trees were uprooted, walls collapsed, children screamed. Zainab immediately drew her enchanted sword and invoked God's name in prayer. From her sword burst forth a radiant light that formed a shield around the tribe, protecting them. But Zainab knew it was only temporary—the sorcerer's power had grown far more dangerous.
The sorcerer roared, "Come forward if you dare! This battle is not only between you and me, but it will decide the very survival of your tribe." Zainab looked at her minister, who nodded, assuring her she was not alone—the tribe was with her. Taking a deep breath, she declared with renewed determination that she would fight. Yet she felt deep within that her own strength alone would not be enough to stop such a powerful enemy—she would need the unity and truth of her people.
The battle began. The sorcerer summoned creatures even more hideous than Shaitan—half-human, half-shadow, with eyes burning red light and tongues spitting venom. Against the warriors, they appeared like nightmares; swords shattered when they touched them. Zainab struck again and again with the radiant power of her blade, while the tribespeople prayed with all their hearts, standing firm in unity. Their voices carried a resolve that strengthened the shield. Gradually, the shadowy creatures began to retreat. The sorcerer chanted ancient spells, his voice so twisted that even the winds changed direction.
As the struggle grew unbearable, childhood memories of an old prophecy swirled in Zainab's mind: "When darkness reaches its final limit, a woman will rise. But she must share her power with others, or the darkness will return." She wondered—who was this partner she must share her strength with? Faces of her ministers, warriors, and ordinary people flashed before her—could it be one of them?
In the midst of battle, Zainab noticed that when the people prayed together in God's name with one heart and mind, the shield grew stronger. But when fear crept in, the light dimmed. At that very moment, she decided—she would share her power with her people. She began channeling the light of her sword into their hearts, teaching them how to awaken their inner courage and faith so that a small flame of light ignited within each of them. The people believed her, and each time they fell, they rose again to fight.
Night deepened, the war dragged on bitter and long. At last, the sorcerer unleashed his final strike: a massive black wall rose from the earth, blocking the light. Zainab swung her sword with all her might, and the wall shattered into glistening shards of light that dissolved into the air. At that moment, one voice erupted from all the people together—"God's Help!"—and the shield blazed brilliantly. The sorcerer staggered back and screamed, "No! This is impossible!" Then, with a furious shriek, he vanished into the forest shadows, leaving only his threat: "I am not finished. I will return, and I will take you all!"
After the battle, Zainab sat exhausted, sweat dripping from her face, pain in her eyes—but a determined smile on her lips. The tribe gathered around to honor her courage. The minister said, "My Queen, you saved us today, but we must remain prepared. He will return, and his next plan will be even more dangerous."
Zainab sighed and replied, "We will be ready. We will strengthen our light. I have learned that power alone gives only temporary safety, but when joined with faith and unity of the people, no force in existence can destroy it."