They all stood at the eerie intersection where ruins diverged into eight distinct paths. Each direction seemed to pulse with a different kind of energy—subtle vibrations, strange winds, and ghostly whispers that slithered into their ears like forgotten memories.
Mustafa stepped forward slowly, his gaze locked ahead. He approached the first path, where a warm glow seeped through the cracks in the stone, and ethereal whispers echoed all around:
"Allahu Akbar… Ashhadu alla ilaha illa Allah, wa ashhadu anna Muhammad rasul Allah… The end is near… Worship Allah as if your survival depends on it..."
The group fell into a stunned silence, their bodies still, breaths shallow. Mustafa glanced back at them and spoke with solemn reverence:
This is the first direction... the path of the Islamic Civilization. Here live the Muslims who survived the cosmic wars. Most of them descend from what was once the British Kingdom. After London fell, they founded a new underground colony. They built mosques from steel and light. The Qur'an became not just scripture—but law."
He then turned to Mohamed, voice heavy with memory:
"Here... live our aunt Munira, Aunt Samia, and the rest of our family who weren't slaughtered in the purge. The biological war left them with no place to go. They were exiled here—where faith became survival, and prayer became the language of resistance."
Mustafa placed a hand on the cracked stone wall beside him, pausing, lost in thought.
They didn't choose this life… but it chose them. And they never forgot us."
Mustafa slowly turned and walked toward the opposite path, a corridor laced with white marble ruins and remnants of great cathedrals, covered in ivy. A cold yet comforting wind swept from within. From the darkened archway, they heard calm whispers in a strange, melodic echo:
"In nomine Patris… Et Filii… Et Spiritus Sancti… May the Lord shield us… We are not alone."
Mustafa raised his hand gently, signaling the team to pause.
"And this... this is the path of the Christian Civilizations. Once bitter enemies, now closest allies to the Islamic sector. After the fall of the Vatican and the Siege of New York, Christian survivors fled into sanctuaries hidden across the northern sectors. Eventually, they met the Muslims... not with swords, but with shared grief. They forged an alliance not out of diplomacy—but necessity."
He looked to the path, then back at his brother and team.
Now, if one of these civilizations is attacked… the other intervenes immediately. No questions asked."
Rayan, eyebrows raised, tilted his head.
Do they… still hate each other?"
Mustafa smirked and answered calmly:
That hatred ended with the world we once knew. Humanity had to choose: keep fighting old wars… or survive the new one."
A brief silence passed—then laughter broke out among the group, soft and genuine.
Sami:
Peace… between the two most divided faiths in history. Never thought I'd see the day."
Sarah, still holding Omar's hand tightly, added with a shaky smile:
Maybe the end of the world was the beginning we needed."
Mohamed, arms crossed, simply nodded:
About time."
And for the first time in what felt like centuries… they smiled.
They moved on. At the third path, a low hum filled the air—cold and mechanical. Screens flickered between debris.
Mustafa:
"The Silicon Minds. An AI civilization. Once controlled by humans… now self-aware, emotionless. They don't kill unless provoked, but they never forget."
In the fourth direction, a foul stench filled the air. Growls echoed through the dark corridor.
Mustafa:
"These… are not humans anymore. We call them the Fleshbound. Victims of genetic warfare—mutated into beasts with no morality. They eat anything that breathes."
They passed the fifth. Light twisted unnaturally, and soft laughter danced through the wind.
Mustafa:
"The Echo Spirits. Post-human entities—pure energy. They exist between reality and nightmare. Harmless… unless you lie in their presence."
Sixth, a path wrapped in frost. The group shivered as wind howled.
Mustafa:
"The Arctic Remnants. Survivors of the Northern Collapse. They believe the world outside is cursed, and they'll kill anyone who speaks of the sun."
At the seventh, heat and smoke spilled into the tunnel. Drums pounded from afar.
Mustafa:
"The Ember Tribe. Pyromancers. They live in volcanic ruins. Isolationists… but honour-bound. They follow a code older than any religion."
Finally… they stood before the eighth path. A massive iron gate, rusted but still sealed. The air here was deathly still.
Mustafa raised a hand, whispering:
"Silence. No sudden movements. No loud voices. This… this is the realm of the Last Silence."
Sarah (whispering, trembling):
"The Last Silence? I thought it was just a legend."
Mustafa:
"A legend… built on truth. This civilization doesn't speak. They don't breathe loud. They see through sound. They're the ones who ended the War of the Thousand Eyes… with no survivors."
The whispers here were different. Not words… just breath. Dry, brittle, echoing from every shadow. Even the bravest of the team looked away.
Mustafa turned to Mohamed:
"You understand now? Why this place is more than ruins and dust? It holds what's left of the world… the best, the worst, and the forgotten."
And then… the whispers stopped.
A chill ran down everyone's spine.
This was no longer just a journey.
It was a reckoning.
Just as Mustafa was about to speak again, Mohamed suddenly raised a hand and stopped him.
Mohamed (sharply):
"Stop. Say one more word, and I swear... I'll kill you."
Mustafa (looking at him with calm confidence):
"Afraid of the truth? Of the past? We're at the heart of the world now, there's no time for secrets, Mohamed."
Mohamed (stepping forward):
"No. We are standing on the edge of death. And you're dragging us deeper!"
Suddenly, their argument turned into a clash of swords.
Steel struck steel, sparks danced in the air, and all eyes watched in tense silence.
No one dared intervene.
They all knew this fight had to happen.
Mustafa fought valiantly, but Mohamed had the upper hand.
Mustafa fell to the ground, his chest heaving, eyes locked on his brother with proud defiance.
Mohamed (raising his sword):
"Goodbye... brother."
Then, a scream shattered the moment.
Sarah rushed forward, gripping Omar's hand tightly as he cried out:
Omar:
"Let go of me! I'm not your boyfriend! I don't want to die!"
Sarah (standing between them, yelling):
"If you kill him… kill me and Omar too!"
Mohamed (shocked):
"Why would I kill my own son?!"
Omar (backing away in disbelief):
"Dad… she's insane."
Before anyone could respond, the whispers from the eighth direction intensified.
"Blood loves blood... kill them... worship the silence..."
Suddenly, the wall from the eighth path cracked and broke.
A thick shadow oozed through, dim lights flickering… and glowing red eyes appeared from the depths.
Mustafa jumped to his feet, shouting:
"Run!!"
No one questioned, no one hesitated.
They bolted toward the iron gate, pushed it open, and disappeared through it… vanishing into the unknown.
Then, from within the darkness, a deep, gravelly voice echoed:
"We are free… I'm coming for you, Mohamed… I'll have my revenge at last..."