They ran into the prayer room.
The door slammed behind them.
The walls were covered in warped Arabic letters crawling like insects.
Ammi collapsed to her knees.
"This house is possessed by arrogance," she cried.
The jinn's laughter shook the ceiling.
Through the door, Imran's voice changed constantly—human, demon, child, old man.
"You brought faith into my home," it mocked.
"Now watch it fail."
Ayaan grabbed the Qur'an. His hands trembled violently.
Zoya whispered,
"If this is how horror movies end, I want refund."
Ayaan began reciting aloud.
Not perfectly.
Not bravely.
But honestly.
His voice cracked.
The verses pushed outward like fire in the lungs of the house.
The walls screamed.
Yes—
Screamed.
Wood split.
The door warped.
The jinn roared in fury:
"I was here before your prayers!"
Ayaan shouted back,
"But not before your Creator!"
Light burst from the Qur'an.
Not holy-movie light.
Painful light.
Burning light.
The house convulsed.
From the hallway came Imran's final scream—human again.
"Ayaan— tell Zoya I stole her charger!"
Even in death, comedy survived.
Then silence ripped through everything.
The house exhaled violently.
Windows shattered outward.
Darkness poured into the sky.
And the jinn screamed as it was dragged into emptiness between verses.
The house collapsed inward like lungs losing breath.
When it was over—
Briar Lane stood quiet.
Burned.
Empty.
Ayaan, Zoya, and Ammi sat outside shaking.
Zoya laughed weakly through tears.
"So… next time, expensive rent only."
Ayaan nodded.
"Or tents."
Ammi kissed the Qur'an.
"Some houses pray back," she whispered.
"And some should never pray at all."
Behind them, the ruins whispered once more—
Not in Arabic.
Not in laughter.
But in memory.
And then finally…
Nothing.