The morning light crept through the cracks in the boarded windows, casting thin stripes of gold across the dusty floor. Hazem stood at the center of the room, his brothers gathered around him. Hadi's body lay on the cot behind them, covered with a white sheet, they had performed Janazah Prayer led by Hazim and they Agreed to get his body to his parents to bury it. Hadi's hands were folded across his chest. They had said their goodbyes. Now they had to survive."The military will be here within the hour," Ali said, his voice flat, exhausted. "They've been circling for hours. They know exactly where we are."Laith's hand tightened on his blade. "Then we fight."Hazem looked at them, at Laith, whose speed armor hummed with barely contained energy; at Ali, whose eyes were hollow with grief but still sharp; at Haitham, whose calm demeanor was a mask for the storm within. And he thought of Hadi. He thought of all they had lost. He thought of all they still had to fight for."We fight," Haz

The protests had reached a fever pitch. Across the country, millions had taken to the streets, their voices rising in a chorus of defiance that could not be ignored. The government was crumbling, its authority shattered, its lies exposed. And in the chaos, something unexpected began to happen.The military was splitting.It started with a single video. A general, his face hidden in shadow, his voice distorted, spoke from inside a military base. He held documents in his hands, ledgers, photographs, records of corruption that went to the highest levels of power."I am a general in the Palestinian military," he said, his voice trembling but steady. "And I can no longer stay silent. For years, we have been given extra cash, luxury items, and privileges to keep us loyal. We were told to follow orders without question. We were told to ignore the truth. And those who refused, those who questioned were taken to jails and tortured. Just like the Knights."He held up the documents. "I have evid

The city was transformed. The streets that had once been filled with tear gas and screams were now filled with flowers and songs. The people had won. The government had fallen. And for the first time in decades, there was hope.A great stage had been erected in the central square, overlooking the sea of faces that stretched as far as the eye could see. Flags waved. Children laughed. The air was thick with the smell of incense and the sound of prayer.The Knights stood at the edge of the stage, their armor polished, their faces somber but proud. They had come to honor the fallen, to say goodbye to their brothers, to mark the end of an era and the beginning of a new one.Hazem stepped forward, his voice carrying across the crowd.---"In the name of Allah, the Most Merciful, the Most Compassionate. My brothers and sisters, my people, my family.Today, we gather not to celebrate a victory, but to honor those who made it possible. Today, we remember the fallen. We remember Hadi, our broth

The family home was warm, filled with the smell of spices and the sound of laughter. Ali stood in the doorway, his hand still on the handle, his heart pounding. It had been so long. Too long.His mother was the first to see him.She dropped the spoon she was holding, the clatter echoing through the kitchen. Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears."Ali," she whispered. "Ali, is it really you?"He crossed the room in three strides and pulled her into his arms. She was smaller than he remembered, frailer, but her embrace was just as fierce as it had always been."I'm here, Mama," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm home."His father appeared in the doorway, his face pale, his eyes wide. He didn't say anything. He just walked toward his son and wrapped his arms around both of them, holding them tight."My boy," he said, his voice breaking. "My boy."His little sister.came running down the stairs, her eyes bright with tears. She threw herself at him, nearly knockin

Hadi's mother sat in her worn armchair, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes fixed on the photograph on the wall—her son, her husband, her family, all gone now.Hazim stood in the doorway, his heart heavy. He had been coming here every day, bringing food, sitting with her, offering what comfort he could. But no matter what he did, he knew it was never enough."Auntie," he said softly. "I've brought some company."Ali stepped forward, his face gentle, his voice warm. "May we come in?"She looked up, her eyes red-rimmed, her face etched with grief. "Of course. Please. Sit."They filed in, Hazim, Ali, Laith, Haitham, and Marwan. They brought food, flowers, and the quiet presence of people who cared.They sat with her for hours. They talked about Hadi—his childhood, his laughter, his dreams. They shared stories of his bravery, his kindness, his unwavering commitment to justice.Hadi's mother listened, her eyes wet, her hands trembling."He was always like that," she said, her voice soft