**Scene 1: The Caravan's Peril**
*Khorasan Mountains — December 721 CE*
Sand screamed against the caravan like shrapnel. Layla al-Azdi clutched her swollen belly as the howling *simoom* wind lifted their oxcart on two wheels. Hayyan wrapped his woolen *aba* robe around her, shouting over the fury:
**"Hold the canopy ropes, Rafiq! If the sand breaches—"**
**"The axle's cracked, Hayyan!"** Rafiq yelled back, spitting grit. **"We must shelter in the caves!"**
Layla gasped as agony tore through her—not the grinding pain of labor, but the sharp, sickening rip of premature rupture. Warm fluid soaked her robes. *Too early. Six weeks too early.*
**Scene 2: The Cave of Whispers**
*Candlelit Cavern — Moments Later*
Rafiq's torch revealed pictographs of ibex and hunters on the cavern walls—a Neolithic sanctuary. Hayyan tore silk cushions into birthing pads while Rafiq's wife, Zahra, knelt between Layla's trembling legs.
**"Breathe like the wind, *habibti*,"** Zahra commanded, massaging rosehip oil into Layla's thighs. **"Short breaths in, long breaths out—*shhh, shhh, haaa*."**
Outside, the storm roared like a djinn. Layla dug her nails into Hayyan's forearm as a contraction crested:
**"He's coming too fast! Like he's fleeing something—"**
**Scene 3: The Midwife's Tools**
*Cavern — Deep Night*
Zahra unfolded a leather roll glowing with implements:
- **Bronze *mihbaj*** (period-accurate speculum)
- **Poppy tincture** in a blown-glass vial
- **Twisted cotton wick** for the umbilical cord
- **Dried fenugreek paste** to stimulate contractions
**"Chew this,"** Zahra ordered, pressing bitter **black cumin seeds** into Layya's mouth. **"It strengthens the womb's grip."**
Hayyan held a polished obsidian mirror to catch lamplight between Layla's legs. **"The head crowns! Dark hair like yours, Layla!"**
**Scene 4: The Blood Hour**
*Cavern — Peak Labor*
Layla's scream merged with the storm's wail. Zahra's hands moved with urgent precision:
**"Shoulders stuck—*turn him*, Hayyan! Left palm on her belly, right hand *here*—yes!"**
Blood soaked the silk cushions—too much blood. Zahra snatched the poppy vial. **"For the pain—"**
**"No!"** Layla knocked it aside, glass shattering. **"Clear mind... for my son."**
Hayyan pressed his forehead to hers, whispering verses from the *Quran*:
***"Fa-inna ma'a al-'usri yusra. Inna ma'a al-'usri yusra..."*** *("Verily, with hardship comes ease")*
**Scene 5: The Prophetess**
*First Cry*
With a final heave, the child slid into Zahra's hands—skin blue, silent.
**"Rub him!"** Hayyan begged. **"The cord—"**
Zahra ignored him. She swept sand from the cavern floor, burying the newborn up to his neck in grit. **"Khorasan's breath will wake him!"**
Layla sobbed. **"He's not breathing!"**
Zahra struck the infant's soles. Once. Twice.
A gasp. Then a wail that silenced the wind.
**Scene 6: The Alembic of God**
*Prophecy at Dawn*
Zahra washed the child in snowmelt and **za'atar** herbs. As dawn bled through the cave mouth, she traced the birthmark on his shoulder—a perfect circle with three radiating lines.
**"This is no ordinary child,"** she murmured. **"The sandstorm was his escort. Djinn fleeing his arrival."**
Hayyan frowned. **"Old women's tales—"**
**"Mark me!"** Zahra's eyes blazed. She placed the squalling infant on Layla's chest. **"This boy will walk between worlds. Fire and water will heed his call. He will transmute *knowledge itself*."**
She pressed the **umbilical wick** into Hayya's palm, now hardened by **myrrh resin**. **"Bury this where no man treads. His destiny must stay hidden until the moon of his fourteenth year."**
**Scene 7: The Naming**
*Caravan at Daybreak*
The storm had scoured the sky clean. Hayyan held his son toward the rising sun—a tiny bundle swaddled in indigo-dyed wool.
**"His name is *Jabir*,"** he declared. **"The Comforter. For he brings peace after tempest."**
Layla touched the birthmark. **"And this? What does it mean?"**
Zahra packed her tools, avoiding their gaze. **"The circle is the alembic—vessel of transformation. The lines are the Three Principles: Salt, Sulfur, and Mercury. Your son is God's own alchemist."**
As the caravan descended into Persia, Hayyan whispered against Jabir's brow:
**"May your path be gentler than your entrance, little falcon."**
But behind them, on the storm-scarred ridge, Umayyad scouts adjusted their telescopes.
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