His name is Ahmed

Description

A voice rang out, a heavenly voice, a voice that shook the very foundations of the hall and all those within it. It was my mother. She stood tall as a palm tree, steadfast as a mountain, and high as a spear. She called out, waving her right hand like a thousand knights stirring up dust on the battlefield, calling to me: “Ahmed… Ahmed…” My heart fluttered at her voice. It was her, magnificent beyond measure. She continued, her voice booming, and the entire hall listened to her timeless words. Even the walls seemed to bow in reverence as they heeded her pride: “Raise your head, Ahmed… Raise your head, my son.”