Volume Four
When the crimson sun set,
a gathering of friends took place in the fields of Yoremir.
Eight friends came together and created a new story of unity.
The place filled up with guests,
and the sound of everyone's laughter felt like the beginning of a festival.
Someone brought pots of fragrant spices,
someone brought silver-coloured plates.
Someone brought golden vessels,
someone brought amusing stories.
Everyone mixed together, lost in laughter and playful chatter.
People of many colours, in many styles, spent the night as one.
This was not just a feast,
but a sign of a new path in life,
where the bond of friendship is the greatest treasure of all.
Dalim Kad
Leader of Roham's small group of Olengrad
Episode Sixteen: Shadow of the Thief
A hushed night. A thick layer of clouds has gathered in the sky, the moon flaring up now and then, as if it is a hidden, sorrowful witness. Silence all around. Fireflies lie in wait on every side, as if opening their eyes to watch the beginning of an unseen tale.
Mahadi Grandpa's food hotel. The floor is made of old wooden planks, and the air still carries the smell of spices, fried goat meat, burnt cloves, and rich ghee. On the wooden wall hangs a golden frame holding a painted image of a river. On one side, under the roof, a hanging lamp spreads its bright light.
The inner luxurious chamber. Where shadows dance like elegant guests of commerce and wealth. In the soft glow of candlelight, the grand dining hall stands still, waiting for its nightly gathering.
Tall wooden pillars, carved with unmatched skill by master craftsmen, bind the hall in royal beauty. On their surfaces, golden patterned lines shimmer, whispering tales of ancient empires. On the floor lies a vast red velvet carpet, as if a king's blood has been spilled. Upon it stands a massive table, its snake-like curved legs spreading across the red velvet carpet. High, confident chairs wrapped in soft, colourful velvet stand around the table, as if they are thrones for plotting kings or vengeful queens.
From the domed ceiling, decorated with patterns in an ancient language, hangs a huge glittering chandelier. Ironwork holding hundreds of candles, all burning in a golden glow. That light bathes the entire hall in a strange warmth. Oil paintings of conquerors are arranged in the wall niches, as if staring directly into the eyes of those who enter below. Through the tall windows, the outside world reveals itself.
Decorated candles sway gently, their shadows twisting and spreading over the complex patterns of the red carpet, as if the hall itself is involved in a conspiracy. This is no ordinary dining room, but a stage of intrigue, where the clink of plates sounds like secret deals or betrayal. Filled with the sweet scent of candle wax and the smell of old wood, this place almost feels as if past feasts are still echoing in the air.
Usuf and Salih are seated at the table.
The surrounding grandeur and the mysterious night atmosphere make the mind even more alert. Darkness, the drifting scent of wax, and the shimmering light of the sky together seem to signal the beginning of a new chapter, where courage, knowledge, and unknown danger must be faced.
Salih sits leaning back lightly. Lean, young, with eternal tiredness in his eyes and a faint trace of mockery. He seems like a flawless beauty shaped by the touch of night's shadow. He wears a luxurious black-and-white outfit, sleeves rolled up. Yet exhaustion has not defeated him. He bites into crumbly goat meat, along with hot, steaming, buttered bread. Meat juices run down beside his fingers and stop after striking the table like stone. He eats slowly. Fried goat meat, lifting each piece on his fork in a way that makes him look like a fighter without regret, celebrating victory after battle. The smell of butter rises from the bread.
On the other side is Usuf. He is like a stone placed under fire, cool on the surface, but burning within. Fire-like light shines in his dark eyes. In his hands is a map, drawn on old leather, lines made with red and black ink, slightly blurred, carrying an ancient smell. It sits like a witness to a centuries-old oath. The torn and scarred map of the Jathar forest. He stares at it with full focus, turning it over again and again, scanning every line, every strange symbol. But nothing is clear, nothing is revealed. Deep frustration slowly casts its shadow over his face.
Usuf turns the map over once more, then puts it back again. His fingers trace the lines of the forest, every bend, every spiral. But no matter how much he looks, he finds no meaning. The surroundings suddenly fall silent, as if the air itself has stopped, waiting for their words.
His brows draw together, a mass of restlessness settling at the corner of his lips.
The corner of his mouth begins to throb. Then, slowly, he lifts his head. Red shadows under his eyes, failure laid bare. He whispers:
"Where is the direction to the treasure on this map? There is only a forest and a temple."
His voice carries a restrained stream of anger, as if he is blaming himself—hoping so much, dreaming so much… now it feels like everything is false. On the map before him lies the Jathar forest, but there is no path, no signal, only a painted deep green monster, whose womb hides secrets.
Salih smiles lightly while chewing and looks at Usuf, a soft touch of mockery in his eyes. A piece of bread in his mouth, and a flicker of a question in his gaze.
Light falls on the map as if the leaves of the forest are stirring, like the breath of some ancient cursed creature. In places there are strange pits and shadows, symbols of a temple, but beside them there are no numbers, no directions. Only uncertainty. As if something is hidden within the folds of the paper.
Salih takes another bite, but worry fills his eyes. And Usuf is still staring at the map, as if fire might pour out through his eyes. Shadows gather along the lines of his forehead, and within those shadows there is only one question, why only a forest and a single temple?
Only a single temple.
This night, this silence, this map, everything is ready, waiting only for that one decision. And Usuf? He does not stop, he thinks, he tries to understand how this door of mystery can be opened.
There is no sound at the table. Only two young men.
Salih's hand is still on the butter-scented bread, taking the final bite with his teeth. At that very moment, it is as if lightning strikes through the chest of the night.
Suddenly, four men rush in through the door at lightning speed and switch off all the lamps. The candles go out in a fierce rush of wind.
In an instant the entire hotel sinks into a thick black darkness, as if they have been suddenly thrown into outer space.
In the darkness, Salih and Usuf both cannot see anything.
Salih, frightened, says,"Who turned off the lights?"
Usuf tries to understand the situation."Don't be afraid. I'm here."
In a single breath, everything becomes silent, a silence that comes only before death.
The darkness itself now feels like a character, moving, breathing, waiting. Mahadi Grandpa's hotel no longer feels like an ordinary place to eat, it has become a river of corpses, on whose bank stand two travellers, Usuf and Salih. Even breath seems to have folded in on itself, moments have stretched out, as if each second is passing like a whole year.
Salih calls out loudly,"Mahadi Dadu? Where has he gone at this hour?"
Salih parts his eyelids and tries to understand the darkness by looking, but everything is so empty and motionless that his muscles grow tight.
The hushed night grows even deeper. Outside, clouds drift across the sky like an unseen river, as if they do not wish to shine, but want to merge into the depths of darkness. The air tightens like a held breath, as if all the breathing of the world is melting into the hollow of the night. Far away, along the line of forest and hills at the edge of the horizon, a strange light trembles, yellow, red, unfamiliar. As if the sky is hiding something ancient within itself.
Before the eyes of Usuf and Salih, the darkness rises like a living creature. They are sitting, yet their bodies seem no longer part of the natural world, they feel like shadows drifting in the air, merging with the night into a colourless, endless stretch of time. There is no sound around them, only the silence of unseen particles, slowly piercing every corner of the heart.
Usuf whispers, "It felt like a few people came in and smashed the lights. Do you see it?" A strange, glacier-like cold mystery slowly gathers in his voice.
Salih says fearfully,"I was busy eating."
Light from the outside sky slips in and soaks the room in a soft glow, as if every shadow holds an ancient memory. The silence of the night seems to say that within every mystery lies a kind of emptiness.
A heavy atmosphere, confusion.