The traveler continued walking.
Step after step.
The mountain road stretched endlessly ahead.
Cold wind moved through the rocks.
Yet the man seemed completely unaffected.
His clothes were worn.
His beard was longer than most people kept.
And his eyes carried the weight of many years.
But despite his age—
he moved with purpose.
As if he had been waiting for this moment.
Far away in the village, Feroz knew none of this.
He remained inside the Hall.
Still thinking about Rahim.
The man who disappeared.
Returned.
Then vanished again.
Nothing about that story felt normal.
Ayan looked equally troubled.
"So he just came back one day?"
The old man nodded.
"Yes."
"And nobody asked where he had been?"
The old man gave him a look.
"Of course we asked."
"What happened?"
"He refused to answer."
Feroz frowned.
That wasn't the strange part.
The strange part was that everyone had apparently accepted it.
The old man seemed to understand what he was thinking.
"Some questions are harder to ask when you see the fear in someone's eyes."
Silence followed.
Because that answer made sense.
If Rahim had truly been terrified—
people might stop asking.
The old man stood up.
"I think that's enough for today."
Feroz immediately disagreed.
"No."
The old man smiled.
"I know."
Ayan laughed.
The old man pointed toward the archive.
"The answers won't disappear."
Feroz wasn't completely convinced.
In his experience—
answers disappeared all the time.
Still, he reluctantly stood.
As he turned to leave, the old man spoke again.
"One more thing."
Feroz looked back.
"If the book shows you something again..."
A pause.
"...tell me immediately."
That sounded serious.
"Why?"
The old man's expression became thoughtful.
"Because it hasn't opened for anyone in almost fifty years."
That answer followed Feroz all the way outside.
Later that afternoon—
Feroz and Ayan were sitting near the river outside the village.
The water flowed gently over smooth stones.
For once—
there was no fighting.
No running.
No Hunters.
No Free Masons.
Just peace.
Ayan tossed a small stone into the water.
"You know..."
"What?"
"You ask a lot of questions."
Feroz stared at him.
"You waited three years to tell me that?"
Ayan laughed.
"Fair."
For a while they simply sat there.
Then Ayan became serious.
"My father used to ask questions too."
Feroz looked at him.
"You don't talk about him much."
Ayan shrugged.
"There isn't much to say."
A pause.
"He left when I was young."
The words immediately caught Feroz's attention.
Not because they were unusual.
Because they felt familiar.
Too familiar.
"What happened?"
Ayan looked toward the river.
"I don't know."
Again.
Another person with missing answers.
Another person waiting.
The hidden world seemed full of them.
Feroz understood that feeling better than most.
For the first time—
he realized he and Ayan had something in common.
Not powers.
Not destiny.
Questions.
Both of them had grown up searching for answers about their fathers.
The realization made him trust Ayan a little more.
Not completely.
But more than before.
Meanwhile—
deep underground—
the Free Masons Council gathered once again.
The Archivist stood silently.
Several council members argued around him.
"The boy should never have reached the Learning Path."
"He already has."
"Then retrieve him."
"We can't."
The room fell quiet.
One of the older members turned toward the Archivist.
"You've said very little today."
The Archivist slowly looked up.
His expression was unreadable.
Then he spoke.
"Because there is a larger problem."
That immediately gained everyone's attention.
The Archivist opened an ancient record.
A single name had appeared on the page.
A name nobody expected.
He placed the record on the table.
Several council members looked at it.
And instantly froze.
One of them stood up.
"No."
Another shook his head.
"That's impossible."
The Archivist's voice remained calm.
"Yet the record disagrees."
The room became silent.
The name written on the page was simple.
Rahim.
For several moments—
nobody spoke.
Then one council member finally whispered:
"He's alive?"
The Archivist slowly closed the record.
"I believe so."
And for the first time in many years—
fear entered the council chamber.
Because some names were not supposed to return.
And Rahim was one of them.