Between ruin and devastation, between scattered limbs and spilled blood, between fire and drifting ash…
a man stood at the edge of his fourth decade of life.
His name was Amr.
His eyes were slightly slanted as he gazed upon the carnage before him, sweat glistening upon his brow. In his hand he held a sword stained the color of blood—a sword that had just borne witness to a massacre he would never forget for the rest of his days.
Far in the distance, as far as the eye could reach… he saw a knight.
The man was clad almost entirely in armor, riding a black horse. In his hand swayed a sword heavy with the promise of death.
The knight began to advance, his speed increasing with every step, as though the earth itself were shrinking beneath him.
Amr readied himself, taking a battle stance. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, his eyes steady and unwavering.
When the knight finally arrived, his horse reared high. The blade in his hand flashed beneath the pale glow of the moon before descending in a deadly arc toward Amr.
Amr blocked the strike.
The clash sparked with steel and echoed through the air—
an echo that lingered in his ears, mingling with the sound of a distant voice calling out from nowhere.
"Amr… Amr…"
His focus began to waver.
The echo grew louder, and so did the voice.
"Amr… Amr… Wake up, Amr."
He could not understand what was happening. He tried to ignore the voice, to steady his mind—
—but suddenly the world trembled, and the darkness shattered.
Amr gasped sharply, his breath quick and uneven.
"Why…?" he muttered anxiously.
"Why today as well…?"
It had all been a dream.
Or rather… a nightmare that returned to haunt him again and again, refusing to let him go.
Amr felt around the bedding with his hands, trying to steady himself before wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist. When he lifted his gaze, he saw him—
Kinan.
A cheerful teenage boy with bright, gentle features. He looked at Amr with a mixture of concern and a soft smile—a smile that quickly eased the tension gripping Amr's chest.
"The same dream again… right?" Kinan asked.
Amr remained silent for a moment before replying,
"Yes… the same one."
Before Kinan could ask more, Amr interrupted him.
"How did you wake up so early today? That's not like you."
Kinan replied with a slightly nervous smile.
"Well… actually… we're late."
Amr stared at him with heavy eyes.
"Then why didn't you wake me?"
The boy opened his mouth to respond, but Amr had already risen.
"Never mind. Go prepare what needs to be prepared."
Kinan nodded and hurried off.
Meanwhile, Amr walked toward a small table. He picked up a cup of water, drank it, then placed it down with a dull thud.
Suddenly he froze.
His eyes stared into empty space as though he had remembered something he should never have remembered. The unease on his face made it clear.
Inside his mind, a single thought echoed:
Today the boy has turned fifteen…
He has reached the required age…
And the manuscript is lost.
What am I supposed to do now?
Amr twisted his beard thoughtfully. His thoughts surged like a torrent rushing down a single narrow ravine. The more he thought, the tighter his mind became.
He blinked rapidly, just as Kinan returned.
In the courtyard, Kinan had prepared everything and was humming quietly as he waited. Soon Amr emerged, took hold of the camel's reins, pushed the door open, and stepped outside.
The streets were terribly old.
Their pavements were dusty and cracked, the buildings crowded tightly together with faded colors. Most of the people wore grim expressions, casting indifferent glances at the pair as they passed.
They headed toward the market held weekly at the end of the street.
They set up their modest tent, laid their goods neatly upon the ground, and waited.
"The market is unusually quiet today," Amr remarked.
"The voices of the merchants are barely heard."
Suddenly Kinan turned to him with excitement.
"How long until we visit our family?"
Amr's muscles tightened at once. His fingers intertwined nervously.
That question again.
The boy asked it every year—once… sometimes twice.
Amr slowly turned toward him and said cautiously,
"Boy… just be patient. There's still much ahead of us. When all of this is over… we will meet them."
The boy's face darkened.
He fell into a heavy silence.
The same answer every time.
"Be patient, boy."
It had become almost Amr's life motto. Yet Kinan's heart could hardly bear the longing—and those words only crushed it further.
The day eventually passed.
They gathered their belongings and returned home.
While walking through one of the streets, Amr suddenly noticed a strange man.
The man had neatly styled black hair, with a distinctive white strand falling along one side. He wore warrior's clothing and leaned casually against the wall opposite their house… smiling.
Amr stopped in his tracks.
Kinan noticed the unease on his face and looked where Amr was staring.
There was nothing there.
"What's wrong? What are you looking at?" Kinan asked.
Amr snapped out of his thoughts and rubbed his eyes.
"Nothing… nothing. Let's go."
Kinan found the situation strange. Lately, Amr's behavior had begun to worry him. Still, he said nothing and followed him inside.
At home, Kinan prepared dinner.
They ate in silence.
Kinan devoured his food hungrily, while Amr barely moved his fingers.
His mind…
His mind was lost somewhere deep within distant memories.
Images began to surface—scattered, tangled, disordered.
He saw many faces.
A man with a brown braid and a white turban handing a manuscript to another person.
Another image appeared: an armored knight bearing a strange crimson symbol upon his chest, riding a horse while holding a long sword reminiscent of crusader blades.
Then another image—
A massacre.
Bodies scattered across the ground.
Torn and burning tents.
That image alone was enough to pull Amr violently from his daze.
He trembled slightly, exhaled deeply, and looked around.
Kinan was gone.
His heart pounded.
He turned anxiously until he saw the boy lying asleep on his bedding.
Amr walked over to him, crouched down, and gently stroked the boy's hair.
"I'm sorry, boy…" he whispered inwardly.
"I had no other choice."
"But I promise you… I will protect you at all times."
"Even if it costs me my life."
Tears welled in his eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand before walking to his bed.
He lay on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Just as sleep began to creep over him, his ears caught a faint sound from the courtyard.
He rose quietly and stepped forward with caution.
His hand grasped the door handle.
Slowly… he pulled it open.
Nothing.
The courtyard was completely empty.
Was it merely an illusion… or something real?
Frustrated, Amr closed the door and returned to his place.
But on the rooftop of the neighboring house…
A man stood there, cloaked in a robe that fluttered gently in the night breeze.
His eyes glowed with a strange light.
He remained there for a few seconds… before disappearing silently beneath the curtain of night.
To be continued…