Hilal leaned back slightly, his tone calm yet carrying a quiet authority.
"Well then, my young ones… since you've now entered the System of Divine Care, there are rules you must follow. You are of different kinds—there must be boundaries between you. But I have a delightful suggestion."
He paused for a moment, then said with a faint smile,
"You should marry."
The word struck them both like a soft thunder. Their hearts stumbled, their faces flushing red with the sudden heat of embarrassment.
Hilal continued gently,
"You are of similar age, from nearly the same place. You'll find harmony in your temperaments and ways of life. You'll support each other in your studies."
Then, leaning slightly forward, he asked,
"So, do you both accept?"
Aws threw a quick glance at Shams. She was silent, eyes lowered, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her sleeve.
Hilal smiled faintly.
"Do you accept me as your guardian for this marriage?"
Shams hesitated, then slowly lifted her gaze to Aws. Their eyes met—briefly, awkwardly—and he nodded, shyly, almost apologetically.
She turned her head back toward her mentor and murmured, "Yes, Master… you are my guardian."
"Good," Hilal said, his tone soft but decisive. "Relax, then. I'll arrange everything. The ceremony will be tomorrow."
"Aws… Aws."
The young man blinked, pulled from his thoughts.
"Yes, Master?"
"I saw you carrying a sword earlier. Do you know how to use it?"
Aws lowered his eyes. "Unfortunately… I can't. Not yet."
"Then you'll come with me," Hilal replied with a small smile. "It's time you learn. I'll introduce you to an old friend."
Aws rose quickly—grateful for the excuse to leave the house and escape the awkwardness of the marriage talk.
They stepped outside. The air was cool and dry, the sun already sinking toward the mountain ridge. Hilal turned back briefly to tell his wife where he was going, then joined Aws again, and together they ascended the long stone path until a large building came into view atop the hill, glowing in the dying light.
Inside, long corridors whispered with stillness. Hilal led Aws through several rooms until they stopped before a wooden door. He knocked gently.
Moments later, the door opened, revealing an elderly man with a calm, dignified face and a silver-white beard.
"Peace to you, Shaykh Mohsen," Hilal greeted warmly.
The old man smiled, gesturing for them to enter.
After a brief exchange of courtesies, Hilal said, "We've come to arrange the marriage of this young man tomorrow. I'll be the girl's guardian."
Shaykh Mohsen raised a brow. "Her guardian? Doesn't she have relatives?"
"No," Hilal replied. "She's from a faraway town, and she's lost her way. I took her under my care. Both of them are my students… and they've taken their first step on the Divine Path."
The old man's eyes softened. He stroked his beard thoughtfully and smiled.
"You've done well, my son. To guide even one soul toward light is greater than all the treasures of this world. And you've brought two—protecting them from temptation, and teaching them as well. Do you realize the weight of what you've done?"
Hilal bowed his head humbly. "I do."
"Then let me remind you," said Mohsen, "for reminders strengthen the faithful."
He paused, his tone now quieter, filled with reverence. "When a person departs this world, his deeds end—except for three… and one of them is knowledge that continues to benefit others."
Aws listened silently, every word sinking deep into his newly awakened heart. He admired his mentor even more—his precision, his wisdom, and the quiet beauty of this divine path that could turn even the smallest act into something vast and luminous.
As they sat in reflective silence, a melodic call suddenly rose from outside—the call to prayer. It filled the hall with a sacred stillness.
They fell silent. Voices around them began to echo the words in harmony. Aws, unsure yet eager, tried to follow their rhythm.
Hilal leaned toward him and whispered, "Stay back for now, my boy. Watch and listen—like you did this morning."
Aws frowned slightly. "But, Master… if I've taken the path, shouldn't I join them?"
Hilal placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Not yet. Think of it this way—if a man comes to you demanding payment for someone you've never met, would you hand it over?"
Aws shook his head. "Of course not."
"Exactly," Hilal said. "So how can you offer your devotion without understanding who—or what—it's truly for? You must first know, before you can act. Prayer isn't hard on the body… but it's heavy on a soul that's still learning to see."
Aws nodded slowly, absorbing the meaning. He stepped back, sitting quietly in the rear as the others began.
Then something unexpected happened. The prayer wasn't only movements—it was alive with voice and rhythm. The elder leading them recited the sacred words that Hilal had once told him about, and the sound… it was beautiful, almost otherworldly.
Minutes passed like heartbeats, until the voices faded and calm returned.
Hilal approached again, a man beside him—tall, broad-shouldered, carrying the poise of a warrior.
He smiled and said to Aws,
"This is my friend. He'll be your instructor in swordsmanship."