He saw various butchers sitting down on mats or standing near hanging bodies, carefully cutting pieces of meat or hacking away at limbs. He heard the shearing of knives as they were sharpened and the brittle cracks of bones as they were snapped. There were various pots boiling or barbeques taking place where the meat was being cooked into all sorts of broths and dishes, the smell of which made him want to throw his guts up. How were they even doing this? How could they eat the flesh of the very brothers and sisters who had lived besides them as one of their own? To his shock, he even saw some people playing football kicking away at heads, some of whom were little children... It was as if he had stumbled inside Satan's sick fantasy. And yet, the villagers taking part in the slaughter were happy and cheerful, hugging and wishing each other a happy Eid while exclaiming how God had blessed them on this day.

What kind of a sick god would bless this day?

Eventually, they came up to a big village square that looked like a market place, courtesy of the various stalls all around that were selling all sorts of items. Khalid and him had to push through large crowds gathered there and as he made through to the front he could see what the stalls and merchants were selling. He saw the standard sweets, tea, snacks and groceries being sold which made it seem like any other standard marketplace in Pakistan. But then he saw stalls that were cutting humans on the spot and then cooking them in front of an audience who cheered whenever a slaughter took place. He saw long stalls selling all sorts of weaponry and religious trinkets, where merchants bellowed how their wares would protect them and help them on their paths to hunting down the blasphemous witches. He heard the cries of women too and as he moved forward he saw some of them, wearing strange black and white garbs that revealed more skin than he had seen the women show in the village. The crowd of village men gathered around were throwing rocks at them and uttering foul curses at her. Whore! Satan’s whores! Pagans! Witches! To his disgust, he also saw some of the men fondling the women as they were led to or from pires. It amazed him how these men looked down on them because of their religion and yet punished them in ways that went against their religion too.

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He looked closer at the so-called witches and felt himself stumble for a second as the world seemed to sink into the background. He felt the strange wave of energy flow through him again, significantly weaker than before but still noticeable. He realised it was because of the quills on their clothes that made them look like they had prickly skin. He could even see the witches through the bodies of the gathered men, as if their skin was translucent and the aura of the quills glowed through. Faizan was convinced that they were indeed witches because what else explained all the hallucinations he was seeing. Maybe he was just going insane?

The witches were scarred and bloody, writhing and screaming in pain as pebbles and rocks were hurled at them. Some of the more injured ones had either passed out or died, their skin and clothes drenched with blood as they hung limply. Faizan felt sorry for them as he walked past them, wishing he could do something to help them. One of the witches, a young girl with red hennaed hair for whom the torture was in the initial stages was crying as she was being pelted and doing her best to fight against the knots so that she could defend herself. As she looked up towards her assailants, Faizan noticed her staring at him regardless of the rows of bodies between them. As she did so, he felt the wave of energy flowing through him get stronger and then suddenly, it rose even more as all the witches tied to the pyres looked up at him. Some of them were practically on the verge of death and they still stared at him, unflinching, and he felt the energy buzzing through every vein in his body. He also felt rage, unbridled rage at the village men who were torturing them, as if all their emotions had funneled into him.

As suddenly as the energy had erupted inside him, it disappeared and the witches returned to their torment. Although he couldn’t feel their anger anymore, the feelings still lingered inside him and he felt a hint of hatred towards the villagemen and a sense of allegiance towards the witches. After he had saved his friends, he would do his best to help out the witches too.

The witches and the weapons being sold by the merchants also reminded him of Shikhar and he wondered what he was up to. Was he among the crazy villagemen too who hunted down the witches and uttered religious incantations into the air as they did so before they consumed their flesh all in the name of salvation from god? Or maybe he was running for his life from the villagemen for being from the city? Something told him that would not be the case courtesy of the weapons that he had seen in Shikhar’s room. Shikhar was a hunter, not someone who could be a prey. He hoped that he had had at least some sense of humanity in him that he had kept the rest of his friends safe. And Hina especially.

Please let her be safe.