The island was quiet. No roars. No shockwaves. No storms. Only the soft rhythm of waves kissing the shore and a silence that no one dared to break. Inside the main chamber, Mirshad sat by the wide window, the sea stretching endlessly before him. His eyes stared forward, but they were not looking at the ocean — they were searching for something no one else could see. He had returned from death, but something in him had not come back yet. Since that night, no one heard much from him. He moved like a ghost through the halls of his own kingdom, eating only when asked, walking only when needed, training alone late at night in the shadows of the arena — not to fight, but to remember how it felt to move. The brothers watched from a distance, each one reading the same truth in silence. "He's here… but not back," Rayyan murmured near the corridor wall, arms folded. In the common room, Malik, Amir, and Jabir sat pretending to be distracted. "Bro, next time we go to war," Amir said with a forced grin, "I vote Jabir goes first. He got muscles and no brain — perfect sacrifice." Jabir snapped up. "Oi! You think this body is for show? You want these fists to speak English?" They all laughed, but even that laughter faded quickly, eyes always drifting back toward the chamber where he rested. In the gardens, Sophia sat with Sara, her hands gently over her stomach. She had not left his side since his return, yet she had not forced herself into his silence either. "You've been strong for everyone," Sara said, her voice soft. Sophia's eyes stayed fixed on the path where Mirshad had vanished earlier. "He's not broken," she whispered. "He's rebuilding."
It was just after dawn when she found him again, sitting by the sea-facing window, the rising sun warming his skin. She walked quietly, barefoot, the way she always did when she didn't want to disturb him. He did not move when she sat beside him. "I'm not asking you to talk," she said gently. "I'm just asking to sit with you." For a long moment there was no answer, and then, slowly, his hand reached across and rested on hers. "I'm trying," he whispered, voice rough. "But I don't know if I'm still me." She turned her hand and locked her fingers into his. "Then let me help you remember."
That night, Baba lit the old fire pit in the open-air court. The family gathered around it beneath a sky that felt cleaner than usual, the stars burning bright above. For a while no one spoke, until Baba's steady voice carried across the flames. "We feared we lost you," he said. "But now we know… you just needed a reason to stay." Amir leaned in. "Don't worry. Next time there's trouble, we're sending Jabir first." Jabir started to rise. "You all got jokes today—" "Sit, gladiator," Rayyan cut in. They laughed, and this time the sound was real, raw, and whole. Mirshad didn't laugh, but he smiled, and everyone saw it. Small. Quiet. But enough.
Later that night he walked the shoreline with Sophia. His steps were slower now, not from weakness, but from care. He held her close, one arm around her shoulders, the other brushing her wrist. "You're treating me like glass," she said with a soft smile. "You're carrying glass," he answered, eyes dropping to her stomach. "Three of them." She stopped, looking up at him. "They're waiting for their father to come back." He lifted his gaze to the stars. "I'm here," he said quietly. "Not whole yet… but I'm here." She leaned her head against his chest. "That's enough. Because you're not walking back alone."
The world would never understand what it took to bring him back. They only knew he rose again. But the truth whispered on that quiet island was something greater — even a god can fall, but only love can teach him how to rise.