As the men forcefully dragged me towards the front door, my futile attempts to break free were met with a firm hand clamped over my mouth. The door swung open, revealing the opulent interior of a beautiful home, but my attention was immediately captured by the presence of a woman standing at the centre of the room. Her skin was pale as snow, her hair an avalanche of black silk, and she had a handgun clasped to her side — possibly the very weapon that threatened Harun’s life.

“How lovely of you to finally join us, Miss Swartz,” she said, her voice dripping with icy calmness.

“Where is he?” I demanded, my voice trembling with fear. “Where is Harun?“

A sickly smile curled on the woman’s face, causing every nerve in my body to go numb. So much pain and destruction for a senseless map — a price too high for a handful of lines and symbols.

Anger swelled inside me like a rain cloud ready to burst. Rationality fled like an angry mother’s slipper hurled out the window as I broke free from the man’s grasp, limping towards the woman with sheer determination. But before I could reach her, the back of her gun crashed against my face, sending me crashing to the ground. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

“I took care of him,” she said, her eyes devoid of any emotion. “Take her downstairs.”

The men who dragged me into the house obediently followed her command, leading me down to a room filled with stuffed animals. The walls were adorned with four paintings depicting incomplete maps, their vibrant colours bathing the room in a radiant glow. At the centre, there was a small cot that caught my attention. But before I could examine it further, heavy footsteps echoed from the staircase leading into the room.

The black-haired woman returned, her mere presence causing the throbbing of my head to intensify.

“How old is your daughter, Merisha?” she asked, her voice soft, almost a whisper.

“Excuse me, who the…” I started to respond, but she interrupted me with a stern gaze.

“I asked you a question, and I will not ask a second time.“

“She’s six years old,” I replied, my thoughts racing towards the safety of my daughter, whom I hadn’t seen since being wheeled into the hospital. Missing her felt like a physical pain.

The woman inched closer, and the overwhelming urge to strike her welled up inside me. Yet I restrained myself.

“How far would you go to protect your daughter? How many people would you hurt to ensure her safety?” she asked, her eyes fixed on mine, expecting sympathy for all she had endured.

“To the edge of insanity,” I answered, cautiously inching forward.

The woman reached the cot and began stroking the tiny figure lying there. I approached, still hesitant, and gazed at the child. His eyes were closed, his chest rose and fell with the aid of a ventilator.

“He’s only three years old,” she revealed, her voice filled with a mix of love and despair. “Cancer, like death, is unbiased. It creeps up on you. One moment you’re skipping down the hallway, and the next you’re bedridden, waiting to die.”

For the first time, a flicker of warmth appeared on the woman’s face — the love of a mother lion protecting her cub.

“How long has it been?” I asked, sympathy now tinging my voice.

“Seven months. The same cancer took his grandfather two years ago,” she confided.

I wanted to ask about the child’s father but thought better of it, realising it might only add to the woman’s pain.

“That’s where you come in, Merisha. The map on your back leads to the Well of Immortality, and with it, we can save our son.”

“We?” I inquired, puzzled.

The woman moved away from the cot and walked towards the stairs. “Sweetie,” she called out.

Once again, I gazed at the child, and my body went limp. A mixture of shock and disgust flooded over me as Harun emerged from the staircase, his arm now wrapped around the woman’s waist.

“Merisha,” he said, his voice filled with a complex blend of emotions and unresolved questions.

Tell us: Did you see that plot twist coming? What do you think will happen next?