Hffyl, clutching the documents tightly, rushed through the winding corridors of the fort. The information he had just stumbled upon was paramount, and it couldn't wait. As he neared the Governor's Residence, he could hear the heated exchange between Mustafa and Jalaluddin. His heart raced, knowing the tension could explode at any moment.
Barging into the room, Hffyl shouted, "Enough! Stop! This isn't the time to fight."
Both leaders turned, surprise evident in their eyes. Jalaluddin's guards raised their weapons, but Hffyl was undeterred.
"These documents," Hffyl gasped, out of breath, "reveal something unexpected, something that goes beyond our immediate conflict."
Mustafa's anger was palpable, his eyes locked on Jalaluddin with a burning intensity. "I won't believe a word that comes out of his mouth."
Jalaluddin's face contorted with disdain. "This man murdered my men in cold blood. I'll never trust him."
Hffyl, desperate to prevent a bloodbath between the two factions, continued, "I understand the hatred and mistrust, but we need to put aside our differences, at least for now. These documents suggest that there's a greater threat to Zarabad than each other."
Mustafa's jaw clenched, but he finally gestured for Hffyl to continue.
Hffyl shared the intel, his voice shaking with urgency. The revelations made Mustafa's anger simmer but did little to change his stance. Jalaluddin remained resolute in his hatred.
"It's true," Jalaluddin began, his voice laced with bitterness. "We established Hizb al-Thabat al-Shari'ah not for power or control but to protect Zarabad from external forces like him after what he did to my men. He murdered them without mercy."
Mustafa's eyes narrowed, and his grip on his weapon tightened. "Don't try to paint me as the villain here. Your men were armed and dangerous."
Jalaluddin's lip curled in disgust. "Armed to defend their city, yes. Dangerous, only to invaders."
Hffyl, finding renewed strength, stepped forward, positioning himself between the two leaders. The tension was palpable, but he felt a fire burning within him, a compulsion to speak the truth he held dear.
"Enough!" Hffyl's voice echoed through the room, demanding attention. "Both of you claim to follow Islam, yet here you stand, ready to tear each other apart. Have you both forgotten what our faith teaches us?"
Jalaluddin and Mustafa looked taken aback, their defenses momentarily faltering.
"Look at you!" Hffyl continued, his voice growing in intensity. "Muslims, willing to spill the blood of their brothers. Is this the unity that our Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) taught us? Is this the bond that Allah speaks of in the Qur'an?"
Mustafa and Jalaluddin shifted uncomfortably but remained silent, their eyes fixed on Hffyl.
"Both of you have grievances, and perhaps they are valid," Hffyl pressed on, "But tell me, will more bloodshed, more death, lead to peace? We are told, 'The believers are but brothers, so make peace between your brothers.' We are one Ummah, one community! When one part suffers, the whole suffers."
Hffyl's eyes were ablaze with passion as he recited, "Remember the favor of Allah upon you - when you were enemies and He brought your hearts together, and you became brothers by His favor."
Mustafa's eyes lowered, reflecting on the verse, while Jalaluddin's hard expression softened slightly.
Hffyl continued, his tone unyielding, "Our city is on the brink of destruction, and you both, blinded by hatred, are playing right into the hands of our real enemies. The divisions, the disagreements, are they more important than the teachings of Islam? More important than unity and brotherhood?"
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "The Prophet (peace be upon him) said, 'Do not envy one another; do not inflate prices upon one another; do not hate one another; do not turn away from one another; and do not undercut one another.' Now is the time for unity. Now is the time for understanding."
Amid the chaos in Zarabad, Hffyl, Mustafa Al-Farouq, and Jalaluddin Khyberi found themselves inside the building, deep in heated debate when one of Jalaluddin's men burst in, panic in his eyes.
"Commander, we've got trouble!" he exclaimed, struggling to catch his breath. "Unknown helicopters in the sky, they're tearing through our positions, and the other group's too!"
Hffyl, his face etched with determination, turned to both Mustafa and Jalaluddin. "Listen to me carefully. We don't have time for this. We're facing a common enemy right now, and our own squabbles will be our downfall."
Mustafa's gaze remained locked on Jalaluddin, a seething anger still evident in his eyes. Jalaluddin's response was a clenched jaw and a nod of reluctant agreement.
With a terse command, Hffyl addressed their respective fighters. "Cease fire! Focus on the unknown enemy in the skies. Our conflict can wait."
Though still simmering with resentment, both Mustafa and Jalaluddin conveyed the order to their men, who begrudgingly obeyed. The firefight in the streets came to a halt as the insurgent groups redirected their fury towards the unfamiliar threat above.
As the sound of gunfire erupted anew, Mustafa's voice cut through the chaos as he coldly addressed Jalaluddin, "We'll settle our score after the fajr prayer tomorrow morning. Don't be late."
Jalaluddin's response was equally curt, "I'll be there."
With their uneasy agreement in place, both leaders turned their attention to the sky, where the Apaches continued their relentless assault on the city below.
The night was long and filled with the roar of gunfire and explosions. Buildings crumbled, and plumes of smoke billowed into the sky. The city of Zarabad, once a place of vibrant life, had descended into a maelstrom of violence and uncertainty.
Meanwhile, the members of the PAF were scrambling to respond to the unexpected threat from above. The once-confident insurgent groups were now forced to adapt to a new battlefield, one with unseen adversaries wielding powerful aircraft.
"What the hell are these things?" one of Mustafa's fighters shouted, firing his anti-material weapon at the distant Apache helicopters.
"We need RPGs, MANPADS, anything that can reach those helis!" another yelled, frustration and fear evident in his voice.
Jalaluddin's men were equally determined, their anger at the foreign invaders palpable. "Don't let them rain death on our city! Bring those helis down!"
The night passed in a blur of chaos and desperation. Both insurgent groups, who had been locked in a bitter struggle for control of Zarabad, now found themselves united in a fight for survival against an unknown and formidable enemy.
As the first light of dawn began to illuminate the city, the Apaches had inflicted significant damage, but they had not broken the resolve of the fighters on the ground. The leaders, Mustafa and Jalaluddin, exchanged one last meaningful glance before parting ways, each preparing for the fajr prayer and the tense meeting that would follow.