📖 Quranic Verse (Chapter Opening)
وَقُلِ ٱعْمَلُوا۟ فَسَيَرَى ٱللَّهُ عَمَلَكُمْ وَرَسُولُهُۥ وَٱلْمُؤْمِنُونَ
"And say, 'Do [as you will], for Allah will see your deeds, and [so will] His Messenger and the believers.'"
— Surah At-Tawbah (9:105)
The palace gates were opened for the first time in years—not for royalty, but for the people.
Men, women, and children gathered in the great square of Nurhal, staring in awe as banners bearing Jalal's crest were lowered. The symbol of oppression—a lion clutching a sword—was replaced by a radiant lamp, drawn by the schoolchildren of the eastern quarter.
That night, no celebration echoed through the streets.
There was no dancing.
No music.
No cries of victory.
Only quiet prayers… and the sound of a city exhaling.
Idris stood before the people in the same courtyard where many had once been judged without trial.
Now, he was being called to lead.
But he did not stand on the marble stairs of power.
He stood among the people, on the earth, at their level.
"I am not your king," he began.
"I am not a ruler, nor do I wish to be."
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"Then who will lead us?" someone asked.
"A council," Idris answered. "A circle of voices. Elders. Scholars. Youth. Even dissenters. The city must speak through more than one tongue."
Zayd stepped forward, holding a parchment sealed with names—those willing to serve the people.
The new Council of Nurhal was being formed.
And for the first time in generations, it would include women, orphans of war, and even reformed former guards.
That evening, in the House of Scrolls, Idris met with Nasira, Bahir, and Zaynab.
"I admire your refusal," Zaynab said. "But leadership will find you regardless."
"I'm not afraid of leading," Idris replied. "I'm afraid of loving power."
Bahir leaned back. "You may not want the crown. But you are its weight now. Whether you wear it or not."
Word of Nurhal's transformation began to spread.
Messengers carried news to the distant provinces: The Emir has fallen. A people's council now governs the city.
Some cities rejoiced.
Others braced for rebellion.
And in the western highlands, one particular figure—a young warlord named Malik ibn Tahr—read the parchment, frowned, and whispered:
"Let's see how long justice survives without a sword."
Back in Nurhal, challenges mounted quickly.
The city treasury had been drained.
The food reserves were low.
The orphans and widows of the Emir's campaigns had been neglected for years.
Zayd oversaw the reopening of the Bayt al-Mal—the city's public treasury.
Nasira spearheaded the reform of the guard forces, retraining soldiers under the banner of the people.
Bahir… well, Bahir was tasked with something no one else could manage—winning the hearts of former rebels, bandits, and deserters now looking for a new place in society.
"They don't fear peace," he told Idris. "They just don't know what to do with it."
The Council of Nurhal held its first open session under the sky.
Voices of different classes, creeds, and tribes gathered—not always agreeing, but always being heard.
A woman named Umm Rafi from the northern quarter spoke passionately about rebuilding the city's hospitals.
An old poet, Yusuf the Mute, wrote his first public verse in decades, which was read aloud:
"From shadows we rise,
Not by sword, but by soul—
The lamp bears no blade,
Yet it shatters the dark whole."
But amidst the hope, came a difficult decision.
The Council turned to Idris:
"You must be our Amīn—the Keeper of Nurhal.
Not a king.
Not a sultan.
But the one we entrust to carry the light while we rebuild."
The title was ancient—used only in times of transition.
Idris resisted.
He prayed that night in solitude, seeking guidance under the moonlight.
"O Allah," he whispered, "protect me from arrogance.
Let me never forget whose light this truly is."
And when dawn came, he stood before the council, heart clear.
"I will accept the title of Amīn—not to command, but to carry."
And in the alleys of the city, where no banners flew and no proclamations reached, an old blind man was heard muttering:
"He carries the name of Zubair.
And the courage of truth.
He may not sit on a throne…
But in hearts, he already reigns."
End of Chapter 24