The misty night was pitch black. The road of Mahkota Street was dead silent. Only the street lights were illuminating the grey tar of the road, but it was not enough to manipulate the darkness of the ghostly looking street.

Mahkota Street was where the Mahkota Puri Palace was located, in the district of Dirgantara, state of Shahputra. The surface area of the palace was massive, mainly gardens with beautiful landscapes. The monarch of the state of Shahputra, His Majesty Sultan Muzzammil V was fond of nature. He ensured every inch of his palace was incorporated with plant elements.

The shape of the palace was rather simple. From the sky, it looked like a huge block of square. Practically, the palace was a cube. The significant beauty of the palace was a huge gold in colour dome at the top, coated with pure gold. The dome was enormous, the second biggest dome in Malaysia, after the Sultan Salahuddin Abdul Aziz Shah Mosque's dome - the state mosque of Selangor, Malaysia.

Each four corners of the palace cube were decorated with 142-metre towers. The towers were not aesthetic. They were functional. Two towers served as the palace offices. While the other two towers were being used as the Sultan's private rooms. The towers' top also had a gold dome.

The Grand Clock at the internal Grand Entrance of the palace struck four in the morning. The bell of the Grand Clock smashed the silence of the palace. At the Grand Staircase, a 30-year-old man climbed down from the first floor. He was wearing a black in colour sleeveless sports tank, revealing his lean biceps on his arms. He was wearing thigh-length shorts, together with a pair of Air Jordan on his feet.

When he was climbing down from the Grand Staircase, his bodyguard walked behind him. When both of them walked across the vast empty area of the internal Grand Entrance, he stopped. He turned to his back, and extended his hand to his bodyguard. The bodyguard gave him a striking yellow in colour hoodie.

"Honestly, really?" blurted the 30-year-old man. "A yellow hoodie, can't you be more royal?"

The bodyguard replied softly, "Sir, it's dark outside. It's safe to wear bright colours. In case if there's a car moving, the driver can notice you, us. So, we're in... less danger. Not being hit or something."

"Here's the thing, I don't want to get noticed. And no cars are moving around the palace street at four AM in the morning. Give me that hoodie."

The crown prince of Shahputra, Raja Ahmad Ashraf ibni Sultan Muzzammil V, snatched the yellow hoodie from his bodyguard's hand. He wrapped the hoodie around his body, covering his lean biceps. He also covered his head with the hood. His thin stubble beard, straight Roman nose, and wavy locks were partially hidden.

The prince continued walking to the Grand Door. His bodyguard followed suit.

The loud bell of the Grand Clock had also woken up a middle-aged man sleeping in the biggest master bedroom in the palace. His eyes were just wide open. He was lying on his back, on his huge bed. Hands on his chest. He sat down straight, and then climbed down from his bed, to walk to his bedroom window. He saw, from his huge Moorish-style window, his son was leaving the palace gates with his bodyguard. After the gate was automatically closed, both of them started to jog, away from the palace's Grand Gate.

His Majesty Sultan Muzzammil's V had told his son multiple times that the palace had a huge garden. He could jog on palace grounds. But, his son was still stubborn, and insisted on jogging outside, around the palace, on Mahkota Street.

The Sultan touched the right side of his face with his palm. His eyes closed briefly. And then, his palm swiped slowly to the right side of his trimmed moustache and goatee, down to his chin.

The Grand Clock bell rang at four in the morning, as a wake up call for his son to do his routine morning jog. Usually, he won't wake up, no matter how loud the bell was. But, he woke up that day, and he couldn't go back to sleep.

Sultan Muzzammil V walked to his bathroom, turned on the lights, and walked to the sink. He brushed his teeth while looking at himself in front of the mirror. His wrinkles were visible around his eyes. But, his hair was super wavy, thick, and healthy. At least, that could take a few years out of his age.

After brushing his teeth, he took the wuduk. He washed his hands, rinsed his mouth, washed his nose and nostrils, washed his face - covering his forehead, cheeks, and chin, washed both of his arms from his wrist to the elbow, washed the front of his hair, washed both of his ears, and washed his feet up to his ankle. He also cleaned each crevice of his toes. Each step required him to do it three times.

After that, he stepped out from his bathroom, to open his small empty closet. It had only one pair of clothes. An old but comfortable cotton light blue in colour baju melayu with a blue and white chequered fabric called kain pelikat.

The Sultan took off his pyjamas, revealing his slim but ageing torso, wore the cotton baju melayu and replaced his sleeping pants with the kain pelikat. Finally, he took a white in colour kopiah, a head garment, the male Muslims usually wear, to perform their prayers, and put it on his head.

He took out his prayer mat from his closet, and spread it on the floor, facing the kiblat - the direction to the Kaaba in Mecca, Saudi Arabia. He stepped on it, and started to perform the Tahajjud prayer - a prayer, Muslims choose to perform, after waking up from sleep, late at night.

Metres away from the Sultan's bedroom, outside the Grand Gate of the Mahkota Puri Palace, before the Sultan performed his wuduk, Raja Ahmad watched the automatic gate closed by itself. After that, he looked at his bodyguard. His eyes then scanned the surroundings of Mahkota Street. It was empty. Colossally empty. He started to jog slowly, away from the gate. His bodyguard followed beside him.

The circumference of the palace ground was not small. It took 15-minutes, for a slow pace jog by the prince, to complete one round of lap. At the third lap, the area outside of the Grand Gate was still horrifically empty.

Nearly finishing the fourth lap, around 700 metres from the Grand Gate, the prince could faintly hear the sound of a car engine. Nearing the gate, he saw a silhouette of a car, wrapped with a grey in colour cloth. Raja Ahmad's instincts were saying to himself, "Why on earth suddenly there's a car parked near my father's palace's gate," but he was in a momentum, so he kept jogging with his bodyguard for another lap. His whole body was already wet with sweat.

On the fifth lap, the car was still situated, just a few metres away from the Grand Gate. He jogged past the car. He did smell a certain kind of unpleasant smoke. Raja Ahmad slowed the pace of his jog, and eventually stopped. He bent his body while holding his knees. He was gasping for breath. His bodyguard kept jogging in front him, until he also stopped, and ran back to his prince.

"Sir, is everything okay?" asked the bodyguard.

Raja Ahmad stood up. He looked at his bodyguard. And then he turned to see the lonely car. He looked back at his bodyguard, and the bodyguard was shaking his head. The prince was still looking at him, but his legs started to move near the car. He walked around the car. Examined the grey cloth that was covering it. He kept circling it a few times.

"Sir," called his bodyguard. "Better step back. I don't think we should touch it."

Raja Ahmad stared at his bodyguard, and then stared back at the car. With no warning, he extended his hand onto the grey cloth, and pulled it strong and swiftly. The big grey cloth flew to the air and fell, spreaded on top of the tar road of Mahkota Street.

A billowing dark, black smoke released to the atmosphere of the street. Raja Ahmad and his bodyguard saw the silver car, with its engine running. The interior of the car was filled with smoke. Slowly, the smoke found its way to be faded, until it revealed...

"AAAAAAAARGHHHHH!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHH!!!"

"AAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHH!!!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAARGGHHHHHH!!!"

Sultan Muzzammil V was sitting on his prayer mat, just finished reciting the Yassin for his late wife. When he closed his Holy Quran, he heard a faint but clear scream from the outside. His head turned to his master bedroom's window speedily. His eyes were sharp. He quickly stood up, together with the Holy Quran in his hands, walked fast to his closet, but gently put the Quran back inside the closet.

He stormed the door out of his room, and ran slowly through the corridor of his palace's first floor. He arrived at the Grand Staircase, and climbed down, past the Grand Clock, to the internal Grand Entrance. And then, he saw his palace's housekeeper, also walking to the Grand Entrance, looking anxious, under her oversized white telekung. (Telekung is a garment worn by Muslim women during their prayers.)

"Your Majesty," shrieked the housekeeper. "I heard a scream."

"Please wake up the maids," said the Sultan rushingly. "And the securities too. I'll walk out to check on the scream." The Sultan walked hastily to the Grand Door.

"Your Majesty, it's unsafe!" said the housekeeper breathily.

The Sultan turned. "Marina," said the Sultan calmly, but his breathing was quick too. "It's His Royal Highness. Please open the Grand Gate."

"Are you sure, sir," said Marina, the housekeeper. Her face was extremely worried.

"I know... my own son's voice." Without waiting for a reply, Sultan Muzzammmil V ran to the Grand Door and screamed, "The Grand Gate, Marina!"

The Sultan ran to the foyer of his palace, and then sprinted on the tar road opposite the foyer, to the palace's Grand Gate. His feet were barefoot. He could feel uneasy pain on his sole feet, as he was stepping on the small stones on the tar road, but he ignored the pain. He could still hear his son, screaming in agony.

When the Sultan ran out from the Grand Gate, he saw Raja Ahmad, who was sitting on the ground, on the tar road of Mahkota Street. His hoodie was no longer covering his head. His right arm and palm was on the stoney, grey road, supporting his shoulder. His left arm and his index finger were pointing towards the silver car. His non-stop screaming turned Mahkota Street to no longer being noiseless.

His bodyguard was kneeling behind the prince, holding his shoulders trying to calm him, but failed. Sultan Muzzammil V saw both of them, and stopped from running, a few inches from the bodyguard. He lowered his body, and slowly, extended his hand, to touch the shoulder of the bodyguard.

Like a jolt of electricity circulated his nervous system, the bodyguard gasped in shock. His eyes widened. His face wet from his own sweat. A droplet of salted water was hanging at the end of his nose, eventually falling to the ground. The bodyguard slowly turned his head to his back, and instantly transformed his position from kneeling to sitting - his backside on the ground. His hands no longer held the prince's shoulder. His right palm on the ground. His left palm on his chest. He looked at the Sultan's face in a state of grim shock.

"It's me, Syafiq," said the Sultan coolly.

"Your Majesty," said Syafiq, the bodyguard. After that, he took a long deep breath and released it. "My apologies, sir. I nearly didn't recognise you with the kopiah and the kain pelikat."

The Sultan ignored Syafiq's comment about his attire and said, "Let me take over." Syafiq moved away and stood up behind the Sultan.

The prince was still screaming. The Sultan kneeled and slowly touched his son's shoulder. "Ahmad. Ahmad. Ahmad Asyraf. Your papa is here."

The prince's screeching, slowly faded. He turned his head. When he saw his father's face, he quickly kneeled and hugged him. His head was on the Sultan's chest.

"Papa," cried Raja Ahmad. "Please tell me it's a dream. I'm supposed to wake up right now, but I'm not on my bed." Tears started to roll from his eyes.

"It's not a dream, son," said Sultan Muzzammil V. "It's not a dream. But, you're safe with me. You... are... safe."

The prince started to wail in his cry. Sultan Muzzammil V brushed his son's wet wavy hair to calm him, while his eyes locked at the windshield of the car.

Behind the windshield, at the driver's seat, a silhouette of a human figure was blurry visible, as smoke was still filling up the interior of the car. The Sultan could see a pair of hands, tied to each other. Both hands were clenching its own neck. The mouth was widely opened, and it didn't move. The eyes were opened, too big than usual, looking up to its right side. The eyes' cornea was no longer white. It had strains of red lines.

When the smoke inside the car was nearly empty, the Sultan could see that the human figure was a female, with curly long hair. The female human looked horrendous. Sultan Muzzammil V and the bodyguard Syafiq's body language responded in shock and horror. The Sultan hugged his son tight, while his son was still howling.

"Papa," Raja Ahmad spoke, his eyes red in tears. "I saw her!"

Sultan Muzzammil V slowly looked down at his son, still resting and crying on his chest.

Raja Ahmad continued. "I saw her, I saw her in my dream last night!"