🌙 The Sorceress of Neelam Nagar

The Sorceress of Neelam Nagar – )

The shadows of night had not yet completely withdrawn.

Above Neelam Nagar, the blue moon drifted between the clouds.

From the rooftops of the palace, soft circles of blue light were rising — as if some unseen force was speaking to the sky itself.

Prince Arhaam stood on the fortress wall, holding a broken mirror in his hand.

In that mirror still lingered faint reflections — Zohra’s face, and Sufyan’s glowing blue eyes.

He kept wondering — was all this a dream, or reality?

Suddenly, a sharp gust of wind blew, and one shard of the mirror slipped from his hand, falling down into the palace garden below.

The moment it touched the ground, it began to shine.

The light spread wider — and within it, a dim shadow began to form.

It was the silhouette of a person — but the face was lost in mist.

Sufyan had been missing for three days.

By order of the prince, the entire palace had been searching for him.

And on the dawn of the fourth day, just before sunrise, there came a soft knock on the door of the highest tower.

The guards ran to open it — and there stood Sufyan.

But he was not the same as before.

The blue light in his eyes had deepened.

Mysterious symbols were etched on his robes, and in his hand he held a small mirror.

“Where have you been, Sufyan?” the prince demanded.

Sufyan lowered his eyes.

“I went to a place where mirrors speak the truth, my lord.”

“Did you meet Zohra?” asked Arhaam.

Sufyan slowly raised his gaze.

“Zohra is now within me… and I am within her.”

Then he placed the mirror before the prince.

Inside it, the palace appeared — but within each reflection, a shadow was trapped.

They were the palace guards, the ministers, the servants — all imprisoned inside mirrors.

“What is this?” Arhaam gasped.

Sufyan replied,

“These are those who began to think against their own intentions.

Zohra’s magic has bound them within their reflections.

When a person begins to doubt, he loses his image —

and once the image is lost… he becomes nothing but a shadow.”

The ground beneath the prince trembled.

The mirrored tiles on the palace floor began to crack,

and from each broken piece a shadow began to crawl out.

They were no longer servants — they were Zohra’s slaves.

Blue light blazed from their eyes,

and in their hands shimmered silver daggers.

“This is the War of Mirrors, my lord!” Sufyan shouted.

“Each mirror is an enemy —

and every reflection is your past!”

Prince Arhaam drew his blue sword — the one gifted to him by the spirits of Neelam Lake.

The edge glowed like lightning,

and as he struck the first mirror,

it shattered — screaming like a human soul.

Every mirror he broke let out a different cry.

Blue mist began to seep through the palace walls.

Sufyan started chanting spells.

Then Zohra’s voice echoed across the skies:

“Arhaam! You can shatter mirrors,

but not the truth.

Each reflection you destroy is your own weakness.

You fight your shadow, not your enemy!”

The prince froze.

Could it be true — that he was fighting his own reflection?

In one mirror, he saw his own face —

but that face smiled back at him.

“So this is my other self?” he whispered.

The reflection spoke:

“You fear Zohra because you are part of her magic!”

Suddenly, the roof of the palace burst open.

From the sky rained blue fire,

and Zohra appeared, spinning within a whirlwind.

In her hand she held the same enchanted mirror —

but now, it was breathing.

“Arhaam!” she called out.

“Your father imprisoned my power —

but now it’s time for you to set it free.

Neelam Nagar was never your father’s kingdom;

it was my creation!”

Sufyan stepped forward.

“Zohra! You filled my heart with lies,

but I am no longer your servant —

I am your destiny’s end!”

Zohra’s eyes blazed with blue sparks.

“Slaves don’t speak against their mistress!” she hissed,

raising her hand.

Sufyan’s body began turning to stone.

The prince screamed.

Arhaam thrust his glowing sword into the ground.

“O truth of Neelam Nagar!

If I am truly the heir of this land,

grant my words the power of light!”

The earth shook violently.

All the mirrors of the palace shattered at once.

Thousands of luminous fragments filled the air like stars.

Zohra shut her eyes in horror.

“No… this cannot be!”

In the storm of light,

Sufyan’s stone body slowly turned back to flesh.

He fell to the ground — alive, but weak.

Zohra vanished.

Only her voice lingered in the air:

> “You may have broken the mirrors, Arhaam —

but you have yet to become the mirror yourself.”

Neelam Nagar fell silent.

The shattered mirrors still glimmered faintly in the dim air.

Prince Arhaam helped Sufyan to his feet.

“Zohra hasn’t gone, Sufyan,” he whispered.

“She now hides somewhere within us.”

Sufyan replied softly,

“When truth and light finally become one —

the sorceress will show her true face.”

Far away, over the rippling waters of Neelam Lake,

Zohra’s shadow appeared for just a moment —

and then the waters swallowed her whole.

— To Be Continued —