When a covenant is broken, peace does not end… judgment begins.
They sat in the narrow stone chamber,
its walls rough as if carved in haste,
its light dim, seeping through a thin裂 in the ceiling,
revealing nothing fully,
allowing no shadow to truly disappear.
The air was saturated with a heavy silence
not the silence of luxury halls,
but the silence of ancient secrets…
the kind born only in places that have witnessed betrayal and buried it.
The jinni stood before them.
He let his cloak fall slightly,
revealing features that refused a single form:
at times human in bone and structure,
then suddenly shifting into something older, deeper
as if time itself could not decide how to see him.
He spoke calmly, deeply, without threat or kindness:
"My name is Seraph."
No one spoke.
The name needed no response.
Aram gestured for him to continue.
Seraph turned slightly,
fixing his gaze on the wall,
as though speaking to memory rather than to them.
"Before Saba was a city…
it was a battlefield."
History opened.
He spoke of long wars between humans and jinn,
of blood mixed with sand,
of cities never built because they were burned before birth.
Forces without balance,
victories that left only greater ruin.
Then his tone changed.
"Until the king came…
a man who did not seek victory,
but an ending."
A king who ruled not by the sword alone,
but by covenant.
He forged agreements no one else dared imagine.
Not written in stone,
not carved in metal,
but written in promise.
Seraph said:
"The king's marriage to a daughter of a jinn tribe
was not love…
it was binding two worlds."
Through that union,
the bleeding stopped.
Armies withdrew.
The untamable voices fell silent.
Saba was born as a closed city.
Not from fear…
but from mercy.
He added:
"The power Saba holds
if released,
would burn the surrounding tribes without intent."
So the king sealed it.
Restricted trade.
Forbade interference.
Not tyranny…
but protection.
Long years of peace passed.
The people content.
The jinn bound.
The covenant intact.
Then Seraph said softly:
"But…
not every peace satisfies the ambitious."
Attempts at rebellion rose.
From humans…
and from jinn.
The king crushed them without hesitation.
Imprisoned those who tried to break the covenant.
Preserved balance with a firm hand.
Then he paused.
Lowered his voice further.
"Until Ronen came."
No explanation was needed.
The name alone sufficed.
"Brilliant…
ambitious…
and seeing power only as a tool."
From the day he became minister,
the cracks began.
Small conspiracies.
Hidden alliances.
Words spoken in shadow.
Then Seraph continued:
"And after the king's death…
his son-in-law was to inherit the throne.
But when Ronen learned of the heir…
he knew everything would end."
He paused,
as if the word itself weighed heavy.
"The heir…
is the final bond."
He looked directly at Aram.
No pity.
No accusation.
Only naked truth.
"If the Seal of Light is placed upon his shoulder…
no one will be able to kill him."
He explained that the seal is kept in an ancient vault,
not opened by force,
not by magic,
not by blood.
"Only the king knows how to open it."
That seal,
when activated,
summons the Guardians of the Covenant
ancient jinn,
unreleased since the day peace was signed,
whose duty is to protect the bearer of the mark
that binds the two worlds.
Seraph said with absolute clarity:
"That is why Ronen seeks murder before the seal."
He moved toward a narrow opening in the wall,
a fissure unseen unless one knew where to look.
"You must leave now."
He showed them a hidden path,
running beneath the palace,
then spiraling upward toward one of the surrounding mountains.
"There is an old house there…
abandoned in appearance."
Then he looked at Aram and said:
"From it, you will see the altar.
And from there…
you will plan."
Inside the palace,
movement had already begun.
Ronen was searching for the source of unrest.
Soldiers were spreading.
The jinn were receiving conflicting orders.
And everyone believed that Aram and his men
were still in the chasm.
They left unseen.
Moved in measured silence,
as if the mountain itself opened the way for them.
And when they reached the elevated stone house,
Saba lay beneath them.
An entire city breathing in the dark,
and the altar clear at its heart,
like a blood point awaiting the knife.
Aram sat.
Looked long.
Then said quietly
but with a blade's certainty:
"So…
the race has begun."
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