When the ceiling collapses overhead, survival belongs only to what answers both blood and fate.
At the bottom of the chasm, where the stone was damp like ancient skin and the air suffocating as if it resisted being breathed silence settled after the storm.
It was not the silence of relief, but of anticipation, as though the place itself awaited the next movement.
Water stood still around their feet, clinging to bone, while darkness refused full clarity, revealing only warped, overlapping shadows suggesting more than they showed.
Aram sat with his back against the wall, tilting his head slightly.
He was not thinking… he was feeling.
His hand slipped into the leather satchel, not in search of a tool, but in response to a vague summons an instinct with no known source, yet impossible to mistake.
Suddenly…
Light flashed.
He drew out the four stones.
They did not glow all at once,
but one by one,
as if each stone awakened upon touching the air,
as if they had never been inert only asleep.
A soft light spread through the chasm,
not a harsh brightness that stung the eyes,
but warm, steady like dawn long trapped behind mountains.
For the first time, the walls became clear:
Fine cracks,
hidden stone ledges,
points unseen in darkness, yet always there, waiting to be noticed.
Aram rose slowly,
approached the sloping wall,
and lifted the first stone.
The moment it touched a precise point in the rock…
It fused.
Not stone to stone,
but a fragment returning to its original place.
The point flared brighter.
He raised his foot.
It held.
Then the second stone…
then the third…
then the fourth.
He placed them with exact precision,
as though the wall recognized them,
as though the stones had searched for these places across immeasurable time.
Before their eyes, the wall transformed into steps of light and stone
a path that had not existed moments before…
and now did.
Najjar spoke hoarsely, awe unhidden in his voice:
"It's as if the mountain itself is helping you…"
At that instant,
as the stones' glow intensified,
the sound came.
Wings beating.
Solan turned immediately, his body moving before his thoughts.
He released a short, sharp tone,
then another longer, deeper.
From above the chasm,
Bariq appeared.
He descended in a wide arc,
his eyes reflecting the stones' light,
and in his talons…
A rope, knotted with careful, deliberate craft.
Solan extended his arm,
emitting a third sound lower, calmer.
Bariq circled once,
then released the rope with astonishing precision,
letting it settle perfectly into Solan's hand.
Solan secured the rope quickly,
looped it around a stone outcrop revealed by the light,
and tested it once with his weight.
Aram spoke in a tone that allowed no argument:
"Now.
I go first with Solan, Karam, and Siham from the hidden angle.
And you, Najjar…
make noise. Draw every eye above."
Marana stepped forward, gripping Aram's arm with a strength she did not know she possessed:
"Please…
make sure my brother is safe.
Do not abandon him…
he is still at the inn, outside Saba."
Aram met her gaze for a moment,
then nodded, his voice steady, unshaken:
"He will be."
The ascent began.
Aram first,
then Siham, light as a shadow peeling from the wall,
then Karam, every movement measured,
and finally Solan,
who released a brief whistle one last thanks to Bariq.
The falcon circled once,
rose,
and vanished into the upper darkness.
Before the stones' light faded,
Aram removed them one by one,
and the walls returned to their original darkness,
as if the path had never been born.
Najjar lifted his head and said, his voice rough but sincere:
"Go…
we will hold."
Below,
he and the others began raising their voices,
striking stone,
moving deliberately,
creating controlled chaos
drawing attention away from Aram and his group…
as planned.
The four vanished into the palace tunnels,
while the chasm returned to stillness,
as though it had not witnessed moments ago
the birth of a path made of light.
Within the tunnels,
the four moved like phantoms.
Solan led by two steps,
reading the air,
measuring echoes before they were born.
Siham dissolved into shadow,
while Karam planted death without sound.
The first guard never screamed.
Siham's blade outran his voice.
When another drew near,
Karam dropped him with a swift motion
and dragged the body into darkness,
as if the place itself had swallowed him.
They reached a wide corridor.
There…
Aram stopped.
Through a crack in the wall,
he saw a guarded cell.
Many soldiers.
And inside…
Ronen.
He was speaking
to an elderly man bound in chains,
his head held high despite them.
The king.
Around him…
jinn.
Not as Aram had once imagined them.
Forms shifting,
limbs moving with inhuman slowness,
eyes flaring… then vanishing.
A cold shiver ran through Aram.
Suddenly…
one of the jinn moved.
Cloaked in black.
It stopped.
And turned its head…
toward them.
Time froze.
Solan whispered:
"We're exposed."
The jinn did not shout.
It raised its hand.
In an instant,
the soldiers began to move.
The four withdrew rapidly into a narrower passage,
then narrower still,
until they were trapped.
A suffocating space.
No clear exits.
Heavy silence fell.
Then from the shadows emerged
a tall jinni,
its presence commanding dread without a word.
It advanced.
Then another.
Then a third.
They extended their hands.
And in the moment Aram believed the end had come…
His hand went to the satchel.
Not to draw a sword.
But the ring.
The ring engraved with the wolf.
The instant it touched his finger,
it fused to him
as if it had been made for him.
It glowed.
A faint light…
but terrifying.
The jinn halted abruptly.
One stepped back.
Then another.
They lowered their heads.
And Aram heard a whisper, voiceless yet clear:
The mark of the master…
He did not believe it.
But he did not doubt it.
He said calmly, deadly calm:
"Step aside."
And they did.
The four withdrew without resistance.
The jinn did not follow.
And Aram understood then:
The ring did not merely command them…
it made them fear him.
But humans…
were another matter.
Solan snapped sharply:
"Human guards are coming."
They rushed down a side passage
until they reached a small door.
Behind it
the scent of fire and food.
The palace kitchen.
They hid among ovens,
pots,
and smoke.
Breathing hard.
Aram looked at their faces and said quietly:
"Now we know…
and now we plan the next step."
Beyond the walls,
Saba boiled.
And deep within the palace,
four souls carried a secret
that could bring down a minister…
or burn an entire city.
Balanced on open flame,
and a plan
not yet born.