Noor stood at the foot of her sleek black private jet, the wind clawing at the hem of her coat. The metal stairs gleamed under the floodlights, a threshold between the earth and the sky. Janir followed, his breath unsteady, his presence a storm barely restrained.
"Mother Noor…" His voice was raw. "Tell me what to do."
Noor didn't turn. "You wanted to prove yourself, didn't you?"
Janir's jaw clenched. "But I—"
"Janir." Her voice was soft, almost mournful. "The past does not grant second chances—only the quiet grief of what can never be undone."
A flicker of something—pain, devotion, madness—crossed his face. Then, as if snapped into place, his breathing steadied. "Understood."
Maya scoffed. "That was almost touching. Like watching a pet realize it can't sleep on the bed."
Zeyla smirked. "Except this one still thinks he's human."
Maya shrugged. "I like my metaphors cruel. Unlike your personality."
Zeyla sighed, bored. "And yet, here you are, clawing for my attention like a neglected houseplant."
Noor exhaled.
She ascended the steps. The jet swallowed her whole, the others following in reluctant silence. Inside, the hum of engines pressed against the walls, smooth leather and steel closing them off from the world below.
Maya and Zeyla slid into their seats.
"Must be exhausting," Maya drawled. "Carrying all that self-importance."
Zeyla smirked. "Not as exhausting as listening to you."
"And yet, you never miss a word. Obsessed?"
"Please. I'd rather be stabbed."
"Want me to do it?"
"You'd miss on purpose just to be dramatic."
Noor barely moved. A slow shift of her fingers against the armrest.
"Enough." One word. The air froze. Maya and Zeyla fell silent, their argument dying mid-sentence.
She turned to Janir. He sat opposite her, hands white-knuckled against his knees.
"Power isn't about grasping until your hands bleed," she said, her voice quiet but edged like glass. "It's about making others bleed for you. Control isn't about holding on. It's about knowing when to let go."
Janir inhaled sharply, his back straightening. Something shifted in him—something dark, something reverent.
The jet door sealed shut. The world below disappeared. Noor leaned back, gaze distant.
Maya exhaled, long and slow. The air in the cabin felt heavy, thicker than before. Zeyla's fingers tapped a slow rhythm against her thigh, steady, controlled.
They hadn't spoken while Janir was here. And even now, after he was gone, the weight of his presence lingered like a breath still trapped in the room.
Just the three of them now.
Maya was the first to break the silence. "Well. That was something."
Zeyla didn't reply. She was still looking at the door.
Maya frowned. "Don't tell me you're still thinking about him."
"You saw him that night," Zeyla murmured.
Maya hesitated. "…Yeah."
"Tell me what you saw."
Maya's fingers curled around her arm. "Blood. Everywhere. His own, someone else's—I don't know. He didn't blink. He just—stood there." She exhaled sharply. "It was like looking at—"
She stopped herself.
Zeyla tilted her head slightly. "At her."
Maya didn't answer.
A sudden gust of wind slammed against the windows. The cabin lights dimmed—just for a moment, just enough for the shadows to stretch in ways they shouldn't.
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky—deep, rumbling, not yet close, but moving.
Zeyla's gaze didn't waver. "Then he's learning."
Noor shifted in her seat, fingers resting lightly against the table's surface.
Maya forced a smirk. "We should probably tell him to take a shower next time before showing up like that."
Noor spoke.
"A man may cleanse himself in a hundred rivers, but the tide does not forget what was spilled."
The lights flickered. Just briefly.
Maya swallowed. "Alright, that was cryptic."
Noor's lips curved slightly. Not quite a smile.
Zeyla, unfazed, studied her. "You think he made the wrong choice?"
Noor's fingers traced slow patterns against the wood. The rain struck harder, the wind groaning .
"No choice is clean," she murmured. "Only the ones we are willing to live with… or die for."
Lightning cut through the sky, stark and white. Its reflection gleamed in the window, catching on Noor's black eyes like shards of night itself.
Maya exhaled sharply, rubbing her arms. "Okay, well. I still have to sleep tonight."
Noor tilted her head slightly. "Sleep is a mercy. Some are not given it."
The storm rattled, a whispering howl threading through unseen cracks.
Zeyla ignored the chill that crawled down her spine. Her voice was steady. "Are you saying Janir regrets what he did?"
Noor's fingers stilled against the table. "Regret is a chain forged by those who look back. He does not."
Maya scoffed. "Of course not. He looked ecstatic walking through that door covered in blood."
Noor blinked slowly. "Not all who smile are free."
The cabin lights dimmed for a breath of a second.
Zeyla held Noor's gaze. "And you?"
Noor did not answer immediately. The storm outside surged— But when she spoke, her voice was softer, lower, wrapped in something unreadable.
"I do not look back."
Zeyla's jaw tightened. She was about to press further—ask what she meant, ask what she carried, ask what she had done—but then Noor turned to her fully.
"But you," Noor said, voice almost thoughtful. "You made the right choice."
Zeyla stilled.
And suddenly, she remembered.
A flash of red. The scent of something sweet, almost intoxicating. The spider lily swaying in the dim light. Noor's lips, parted in silent thought. The vial between them.
Outside, thunder cracked—a violent, splitting sound that shook the entire cabin. The lights trembled. And for a moment, it felt as if the world itself teetered on the edge of something unseen.
Then—
Maya looked up sharply.
The rain had stopped. The wind had died. The sky was calm, as if the storm had never been there at all.
The silence was deafening.
Noor exhaled softly. Her fingers, which had been tensed against the table, relaxed.
She chuckled, quiet, distant. A smile that did not quite touch her eyes.
"He reminds me of someone."
Maya blinked. "Who?"
Noor's gaze flicked toward her, black eyes reflecting the dim light, unreadable yet knowing.
"The boy who followed the sun and burned."
Noor tilted her head, amusement flickering like candlelight.
Maya frowned. "That's just a poetic way of dodging the question."
Noor's smile lingered. "Poetry only obscures when the listener is unwilling to see."
Zeyla exhaled, steadying herself. "And what are we supposed to see?"
Noor's fingers tapped lightly against the table. "That devotion is a beautiful thing…" Her voice dropped slightly, barely more than a whisper. "Until it devours you."
A long pause.
Maya, holding her tablet tightly, walked over to Noor, her expression unreadable. "Madam Noor, there's something you should know."
Noor shifted her gaze from the window, her eyes locking onto Maya's. "Go on."
Maya hesitated for just a second before speaking. "Mr. Chen… it's all over the news. His empire has collapsed. Drug smuggling, human trafficking… everything has been exposed. His entire fortune was built on crime."
Zeyla's brows furrowed in confusion, her disgust evident. "So that's how he made his fortune? But how did this happen so quickly?"
Maya's voice lowered, filled with a mix of shock and understanding. "He was found dead three days ago, in one of his burning businesses. They're calling it suicide, but…" She paused, glancing at Noor.
Noor's expression changed, her lips curling into a wicked smile that sent chills through both Maya and Zeyla. It was a look they had rarely seen but always feared—. "Ah, Yilan," she said, almost affectionately. "She sure is ruthless."
Both Zeyla and Maya exchanged bewildered glances. Zeyla, unable to contain her curiosity, asked, "What are you talking about, Madam?"
Noor leaned back in her chair, her eyes sharp as she addressed them. "Yilan. So this is the way you chose, impressive."
A cold silence filled the cabin as her words sank in. Maya's stomach turned as the realization dawned on her. "You mean… Yilan did this?"
Noor's smile only grew darker. " She dismantled him, piece by piece.." She chuckled softly, her voice low and almost conspiratorial. "She is cruel. Methodically Ruthless must I say."
Zeyla's eyes widened in shock. The woman Noor spoke of with such dark admiration was capable of orchestrating something so elaborate and terrifying? "Yilan… did all of that?" Zeyla whispered, barely able to comprehend the enormity of it.
Noor's gaze flickered with amusement. "He sure wasn't just ruined. He was destroyed, utterly and completely ,sure enough before his death."
There was a moment of stunned silence before Noor leaned forward slightly, her eyes glinting with an edge of darkness. "Dint I tell you when a woman is out for vengeance, even the devil sits back and watches?" She paused, her voice lowering to a near-whisper, "It was a meticulous execution."
Maya and Zeyla both inhaled sharply at that, momentarily taken aback. The idea of Noor—"Noor"—being afraid of anyone was unthinkable. The very idea that she would consider Yilan a threat was enough to make their hearts race.
Zeyla swallowed, her voice quiet. "That wasn't just vengeance."
Noor leaned forward slightly, her eyes glinting like a blade catching the light. "No. It was a lesson." A pause. A whisper of a chuckle. "She didn't just destroy him… she made sure he knew it was her."
Zeyla, unable to contain her thoughts, finally said, "If Yilan is this ruthless, what about you, My Lady? "
Noor's eyes flickered with a mix of amusement and something darker. She looked at Zeyla and Maya with a soft, yet chilling smile. "I'm not a devil, you know. I have my methods, but they're not as chaotic as Yilan's."
Maya's breath caught as she absorbed Noor's words. The notion that Noor, despite her calm demeanor and calculated actions, was not to be trifled with was daunting. "So, you're saying…"
Noor cut her off with a confident nod. "I am saying that when a woman is out for vengeance, even the devil sits back and watches. But I have my principles."
Noor turned toward the window, her fingers tracing slow, thoughtful patterns against the table's surface.
"Even the strongest tides must bow to the moon," she murmured, almost to herself.
Then—buzz.
Noor's phone vibrated against the polished wood. She glanced down.
Sanlang.
And that same, lingering smile.