Yuray explained several things while keeping others hidden, but what truly captured Helmo's attention was the talk of Revolutionaries. He admired them and the freedom they possessed—a freedom he had long craved, for the forest had become a cage for him and his people.
Excitement flared on Helmo's face as he asked, "Are you Revolutionaries?"
Yousafer straightened his posture. "Yes. This is our first journey."
"Can you take me with you?" Helmo blurted out instinctively.
"No," Yousafer replied instantly.
"Why?"
"Our path is far too difficult," Yousafer answered. "You wouldn't be able to endure it."
"Just take me! I'll endure anything!"
Yousafer raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "How can you endure something you know nothing about?"
Helmo persisted, refusing to back down.
Yuray, who had been silent, murmured softly, "Why not become a Revolutionary yourself? Perhaps one day we will meet in this vast world, but you must be strong. As you can see, this world is merciless; it has no room for anyone but the strong. The weak are forgotten."
Yuray's words didn't sit well with Helmo; his expression shifted, a clear sense of disappointment washing over him.
Outside the house, the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and darkness had taken hold. The village was lit by strange torches mounted above every doorway. The light was dim, but the path remained visible.
At that moment, the village surged with life as everyone returned from work. A man in his late thirties approached the garden of Helmo's home. He bore a striking resemblance to the boy, dressed in white from neck to toe, carrying a leather bag. His clothes were filthy, coated in a fine purple dust. Fatigue hung heavy on his shoulders, as if years of labor had weighed down his very bones.
Suddenly, the man's expression twisted as he noticed the unconscious figure tied to the lemon tree. "What is happening here? Who did this?" he whispered in terror. Then, remembering something, the first thing he cried out was his son's name: "Helmo!"
His fingers trembled involuntarily; the sight had unearthed a memory he never wished to recall. He rushed forward and kicked the door open with a loud *Bang!*
He found three youths sitting around the wooden table. They all looked up at him. Helmo stood up with a bright smile. "Welcome home, Father!"
The two strangers were surprised to hear Helmo speak, observing the man for a long moment before standing to offer their greetings. "Hello, sir."
The father stood in a daze, sweat dripping from his brow as his eyes remained fixed on Helmo. "Who are these people?"
Seeing his father's trembling state, Helmo answered quickly, "I found them lost in the forest while I was hunting a rabbit."
"And the man outside? Who did that?"
Helmo was about to answer, but Yousafer cut him off calmly. "I did. Did I do something wrong?"
"Where did you come from?" the father asked, stepping toward them.
"We are heading to the Kingdom of Randor," Yuray replied. "We took a shortcut and got lost in these woods. We met your son, and he brought us here."
The father wanted to scold his son for bringing strangers home; if the factory supervisors saw them, they would be imprisoned and forced to work. But he hesitated as he remembered the man tied outside. *How did they do that?* he wondered. He wanted to ask, but Helmo spoke first.
"Father, take off your clothes and wash up. Dinner is almost ready."
The man looked at his son's joyful face—a sight he hadn't seen in a long time. His expression was full of curiosity. Smelling the aroma from the kitchen, his son added, "Go on, Father. I'll tell you everything while we eat."
The father nodded, though his eyes lingered on Yousafer and Yuray. Despite his calm exterior, he was not at ease, haunted by things he had witnessed in the past.
He handed his bag to Helmo. The boy opened it to find some prepared food: half a roasted chicken, potatoes, carrots, two small bottles of red and green sauce, and three medium loaves of bread.
Helmo went to the kitchen, stirring the pot over the fire. He lifted the rabbit to check its tenderness; it was perfectly cooked. He took a small sip of the broth. *Needs a little salt,* he thought, adding a pinch from a leather pouch.
Within minutes, the meal was ready, and he began setting the wooden table.
"Shall we help you?" Yousafer asked.
"No need," Helmo smiled.
The table was filled with food and cups of lemon juice freshly picked from the tree outside. The whole rabbit sat in the center, surrounded by sweet potatoes, carrots, and fried apples with honey. The chicken was divided into four, and the sauces and bread were placed alongside wooden knives and forks.
The father finished bathing, changed his clothes, and sat with them.
"Bismillah (In the name of God)."
"Bismillah," they echoed. Yousafer took a sip of the lemon juice; a sharp acidity hit his throat, making him shiver. Helmo began to laugh at his reaction.
Yousafer ignored him, watching as Yuray tore a piece of the rabbit leg. Yousafer took a small bite with his hand; the flavor was exquisite, melting like butter as it slid down his throat. "Mmm," he muttered in delight.
As they ate, Helmo recounted everything from the moment he met them, sparing no detail—even the story of the chain. Yousafer didn't mind. With every word Helmo spoke, the father's expression shifted, a deep-seated fear growing as he looked at Yousafer.
"Are you... a Possessed?" the father asked nervously, mentioning something Helmo hadn't yet reached.
Yousafer and Yuray's expressions changed instantly. Helmo's eyes widened. "Do you know about the Possessed, Father?"
The man lowered his head, staring at his plate as if recalling a ghost. "I have only heard of them," he said, looking up.
Yousafer and Yuray sensed something strange, but remained silent.
"But Father, I don't think you ever mentioned this to me before."
"It wouldn't have done you any good to know." The man cleared his throat and looked at Yousafer. "Young man, you made a mistake by capturing that man. You have no idea how savage they are."
Yousafer looked indifferent. "We'll handle it. Don't worry."
The father stared at Yousafer for a long time, whispering to himself: *This young man... it's as if I've seen him before.* He tried to remember, but the memory eluded him.
Helmo continued talking without pause, mostly about the Revolutionaries, whom he had clearly come to idolize. The father smiled, seeing his son so engaged and happy, a stark contrast to his usual sorrow.
They finished the meal, leaving only bones and scraps. Yousafer sighed, patting his full stomach. "Alhamdulillah (Praise be to God)."
"Did you like the food?" Helmo smiled.
Yousafer let out a burp and whispered loudly, "It was amazing. You're good at this, kid."
Yuray coughed slightly, placing a hand over his mouth. He looked at Helmo's father. "Can you tell us about the factories and who runs them?"
The man pondered in silence, then sighed. "Helmo told you we work there and gave you the history."
Yuray nodded. "Yes, but we don't know what is actually being made there."
The man crossed his arms. "Where do I begin?" He looked up at them. "The workplace consists of two medium-sized factories. The workers are divided: some work outside, others inside. As for what's made inside, it's purple stones extracted from a nearby cave. They are washed, dried, and ground... every worker has a role. Finally, they are taken to a large room, and there... we don't know what happens. People in strange clothes enter and exit that room constantly."
Yuray thought about the stone for a moment but said nothing.
"And the ones in charge of the factories?" Yousafer asked.
"We know nothing. We only work and keep our mouths shut."
"Does the entire village work? It was empty when we arrived."
"No. Everyone works except for one person from each household who stays behind—that was the agreement."
Helmo interjected, "Me and others my age don't just sit and watch. We go out every day under the guise of hunting, searching for a way out of the village. We're making progress."
"Don't they notice you?"
Helmo grinned mischievously. "No. We know exactly where every supervisor is. I can pass right by them without being seen."
"And the main road?" Yuray asked.
"The main road is heavily guarded," Helmo replied dejectedly. "No one can escape through there."
***
Outside the house, the wind whistled through the trees. Black clouds gathered near the distant mountain peaks, and in the shadows of the forest, shimmering eyes appeared, watching the house...
**End of Chapter**