Nazia

By Humera Mehboob

NAZIA: A Psychological Thriller for Those Who Feel the Truth Before They Discover It

What is missing in life?

Who is not here?

Have we really looked around?

What if the truth is darker than we imagine?

In the quiet yet haunting mountain village of Zafaria, secrets lurk behind every shadow. Amira arrives with one mission: to uncover what happened to her twin sister, Nazia, who vanished five years ago. Official reports claim Nazia drowned, but the villagers whisper a different story, one of the Shadows, unseen figures who "take away those who search too deeply."

As Amira digs deeper, she discovers that Nazia was not the only girl to disappear. Each question she asks pulls her further into the village's dark heart, revealing old curses, cruel beauty rituals, and secrets no one dares speak aloud. With the quiet and enigmatic Kamal at her side, Amira must follow clue after clue, confronting truths that some would rather remain buried.

NAZIA is a gripping tale of sisterhood, identity, fear, and loss—a story where every shadow hides a secret and every silence screams of the past. Filled with suspense, dark folklore, and emotional intensity, this novel will keep readers on edge until the chilling conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Humera Mehboob
• Release date: Oct 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227909060

Humera Mehboob

Humera Mehboob is a versatile novelist and a rising voice in modern literature, published on platforms like Odilo, Tolino, BorrowBox, Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple, and Hoopla. Associated with AURAQ Publishing, Humera excels in various genres. As she puts it, "Don't judge an author, because you never know what they'll bring about in their next novel or what sort of genre it will be." Her debut novel, Journey and Surrender (Aug 27, 2023), explores Chitral and self-discovery. This was followed by Redemption's Glow (Oct 15, 2024), an emotional psychological drama, and Nazia (Sep 1, 2024), a crime-mystery about manipulation and amateur sleuthing. Her latest, Singing the Tale of Serenity Shores, blends dark fantasy with supernatural elements. Humera also wrote thought-provoking articles, including "Leveling Up Lives: The Impact of Video Gaming on Youth," through Spine Times (Nov 27, 2024). Her novels have garnered widespread acclaim. A reviewer on Everand called Singing the Tale of Serenity Shores "one of her best novels," while Mandy Lane on Barnes & Noble praised Nazia in its raw emotion and unforgettable impact. Follow her on Instagram: @humeramehboob_author.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title Page

NAZIA

Chapter 1: An Ordinary Journey?

Chapter 2: The Town with Secrets

Chapter 3: The Truth Beneath

Chapter 4: Beneath the surface

Chapter 5: A New Ally

Chapter 6: Incongruous friend

Chapter 7: She Was My Radiant Dawn

Chapter 8: Threats And Tension

Chapter 8: Exposing The Network

Chapter 9: Lair Of Lies

Chapter 10: A Door To Healing

Nazia

HUMERA MEHBOOB

© 2024 HUMERA MEHBOOB 

All rights reserved to the copyright owner. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of Author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. 

ISBN:  9798344817545

ALSO BY

HUMERA MEHBOOB

A PAKISTANI WRITER;

Redemption’s Glow,

Journey & Surrender

ALONG WITH

SINGING THE TALE OF

SERENITY SHORES

To my Mother; her prayers will always keep me going

To my father whom I never miss to amaze To my beloved four sisters; never leave my hand, keep on supporting me, you mean the world to me. 

Prologue:

The night in Zafaria was cold, the kind of chill that made every sound seem sharper and every shadow darker. The valley lay quiet, wrapped in a silence so deep it felt as if even the mountains were listening. Stars dotted the dark sky, and a pale, silver moon hung like a lonely coin in the vast darkness, casting a faint glow over the village. The narrow, winding streets were empty, lined with mud-brick houses that seemed to huddle together against the cold. Shadows stretched along the walls and doorways, growing darker as they faded into the distance. Now and then, a soft breeze whispered through the alleys, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth, like a message only the mountains could understand. Laila, a young woman with dark hair and troubled eyes, moved quietly along the edge of the village. Her footsteps were light, barely stirring the dust under her worn shoes, leaving no trace of her passing. She wore a faded shawl pulled tightly around her shoulders, blending into the shadows as she slipped through the narrow paths. The moonlight touched her briefly, subliming her face before she disappeared once more into the night, leaving behind no goodbye, no hint of where she was going. Only the mountains watched her go, their ancient silence holding the secrets she left behind. Laila’s home stood quietly on the edge of the village, a lonely stone house that seemed as old as the land itself. Its thick, weathered walls held memories of generations, stories from days long past, worn into every crack and corner. The house looked strong, built to withstand the cold winters and harsh mountain winds. Moss and ivy clung to the stones, climbing up the walls like green veins, adding to the feeling that the house was part of the earth. The front door, a thick slab of dark wood, creaked with a deep, groaning sound each time it moved, as if it was sharing its own tired secrets. Anyone passing by would feel a chill, as if the house held onto some hidden sorrow. Its windows were small and square, watching over the village from a distance, their glass fogged and dim, barely allowing any light to escape or enter.

Inside, the air was cool and still, with the scent of dried herbs hanging faintly. Shelves lined with simple wooden bowls and old clay pots hinted at a life of quiet simplicity. Laila’s family had always been quiet, keeping to themselves. They were a family that kept secrets, their lives wrapped in silence and mystery, like a fog that never lifted.

But Laila was different. She was full of life, always eager to wander beyond the house. She was often found by the river, her laughter mingling with the sound of rushing water, or in the meadows with wildflowers woven into her hair. Her fingers were often stained with colors from the petals she would gather, her eyes bright with curiosity.

Yet, that night, everything was different. No one heard a sound as she slipped away into the darkness. The mountains stood quietly in the distance, the stars dimly lighting her path, as if they alone knew where she was headed. The old house remained silent, its walls holding onto their secrets, as if the land itself had decided to keep Laila hidden forever. The villagers spoke of Laila’s disappearance in low voices, their faces pale and uneasy, as if even mentioning her name might bring misfortune. People would glance over their shoulders or look down, unwilling to meet each other’s eyes when the topic came up. It was as if a heavy cloud had settled over the village, filling everyone with a sense of dread they couldn’t shake.

Rumors spread quickly, each one darker and more haunting than the last. People gathered in small groups, their voices barely above a whisper, spinning stories of what might have happened. Some claimed Laila had been taken by mountain spirits, ancient beings said to guard the secrets of Zafaria. These spirits, the elders said, were protectors of hidden treasures buried deep in the mountains, treasures that only the bravest—or most foolish—would dare to search for. According to legend, these spirits would punish anyone who wandered too close, taking them away to places no one could reach. Others talked of a curse that had haunted Laila’s family for generations, a dark shadow that followed them wherever they went. They said it was a curse born long ago, knitted into her family’s bloodline, something that could never be broken. This curse, they murmured, would steal the life of any family member who tried to leave the village, as if some invisible chain kept them bound to the land. They spoke of it as a powerful force, one that worked silently but mercilessly, waiting patiently for anyone bold enough to cross its path.

As each tale spread, fear grew in the eyes of the villagers. They became wary, their movements tense, casting suspicious looks at the house Laila had left behind. Her name was spoken only in the quietest tones, like a ghostly presence no one dared to disturb, while the shadows of the mountains loomed over the village, watching silently as the stories continued to mesh through the cold, dark nights. Days turned to weeks, then months, but no sign of Laila was ever found. Her parents, broken by grief and weighed down by a fear they couldn’t explain, vanished one night. They left quietly, packing their things in silence under the cover of darkness. No one saw them leave, but by morning, their house stood empty, its windows dark like hollow eyes staring out over the village, empty and cold. The once-bustling home, full of life and laughter, was left to the mercy of time. The stone walls, once sturdy, began to look worn and tired. Ivy and thick vines wrapped around the house like a slow-moving wave, climbing higher each year, creeping over windowsills and doorframes, as if nature itself was swallowing it whole. Inside, dust gathered in thick layers across the stone floor, covering everything in a soft, grey blanket. Cobwebs hung like lace in the corners, stretched over the ceiling beams, swaying gently in the cold drafts that slipped through the cracks in the walls. The villagers walked by the house with quick steps, eyes cast down. It loomed over them, silent and dark, a constant reminder of Laila’s strange disappearance. Even the children, usually curious and eager to explore, kept their distance. They whispered tales of curses and ghostly spirits, passing the stories down from one child to the next. No one dared enter, not even the bravest among them. They believed the house was cursed, that Laila’s spirit lingered, unsettled and restless.

Some said that on the darkest nights, when the sky was without a single star or moonlight, you could hear the faint sound of footsteps echoing through the empty rooms, slow and ghostly. Others claimed they had seen a pale figure standing by the upstairs window, her face white as moonlight, her eyes hollow and sad, staring out into the night. She stood there as if waiting for something—or someone—to return. For years, Laila’s story haunted the village, fabricated deeply into its history. People lowered their voices whenever her name was mentioned, treating it like a ghostly shadow that hung over them. Decades passed, but her memory lingered, like an old wound that never fully healed. Her name was spoken only in whispers, each one hinting at secrets buried deep within the mountains, secrets that no one dared disturb. The villagers kept their silence, afraid to wake whatever ancient spirits lay hidden in the shadows of Zafaria’s peaks.

Chapter 1: An Ordinary Journey?

The bus bounced and shook as it made its way along the narrow, winding road. Amira was jostled in her seat, gripping the armrest to steady herself, but her eyes stayed glued to the view outside. The scenery unfolded like a dream, each scene more breathtaking than the last. Below, lush green valleys spread out like a rich carpet, dotted with wildflowers that added splashes of color against the deep greens. Towering over the valleys, snow-covered mountains rose, their sharp peaks piercing the clear blue sky as if reaching for the heavens themselves. With every twist and turn, Amira’s eyes caught another piece of this untouched beauty. Sparkling streams wove through the valleys, catching the sunlight and glittering like threads of silver. Majestic pine trees lined the slopes, their needles a deep, rich green that almost shimmered in the light. The mountains had an ageless, rugged look, their steep faces marked by rocks and snow, creating sharp contrasts against the soft, green valleys below. When the bus finally entered the village of Zafaria, Amira felt a wave of excitement. The air was cool, with a fresh, crisp edge that filled her lungs as she inhaled deeply. The scent of pine trees hung heavy in the air, blending with the earthy smell of damp soil, like nature’s own perfume. The sounds of birds chirping and the gentle rustle of leaves reached her ears, making her feel as if she had stepped into a hidden paradise, untouched by time. The cheerful sounds of laughter filled the air, mixing with the soft, distant ringing of bells that echoed through the narrow, winding cobblestone streets. As Amira stepped off the bus, she felt the cool, rough stones beneath her feet, grounding her in the new surroundings. She took a deep breath, letting the fresh, crisp air fill her lungs, carrying faint scents of damp earth, blooming flowers, and a gentle hint of wood smoke from nearby chimneys, a reminder of the simple life in this mountain village. All around her stood traditional stone houses, each built with thick, solid gray stones that gave them a sturdy, enduring look. These houses had an old, timeless charm, their thick walls weathered but strong, as though they had withstood countless storms and seasons. Small wooden-framed windows peeked out from the walls, some of them open just a crack, while others were tightly shut against the cool mountain air. The windows and doorways were decorated with bright, colorful fabrics—rich reds, deep blues, and warm yellows—that hung from balconies and window ledges, fluttering gently with each soft breeze. These fabrics seemed to bring the gray stone houses to life, like pieces of color against a canvas, brightening the sturdy walls with a cheerful touch. Flower pots filled with vibrant blooms lined the doorways and window sills, adding

Reviews for Nazia

[lagnahutri · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

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[azurexdwarriorcats · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I've literally been waiting for this. I've read it on Lulu though. I thing SINGING THE TALE OF SERENITY SHORES, is one of the best novels of Humera for now. I'm half way through this one and I'm in so much curiosity for what'll happen next!.