The most dangerous weapons are not those that kill… but those that allow killing to pass unseen.
In the depths of the night,
before Seraph cut through the darkness toward the cavern,
he paused before Aram for a moment,
as if the wind itself had asked him to speak what had remained unspoken.
He said in a low voice, steady as an ancient decree:
"The horn, Aram…
has not yet been used in its true place.
It is a double-edged weapon.
The minister has taken his share of it…
but your share is still trapped within it,
not yet revealed."
Aram did not hesitate.
He answered with the certainty of a man who had chosen his path:
"I will enter the palace…
and if the horn is there,
I will reclaim it."
Seraph lifted his eyes to him,
and in his voice was something that allowed no argument:
"You must reach the king's vault…
before Ronen lays his hand upon it."
Then his gaze shifted to the leather pouch hanging at Aram's side,
and he said:
"Use it.
It is one of the keys…
and not every key is made of metal."
Then he left.
He did not look back.
As if what had been said was enough
to alter the fate of a city.
Aram remained standing,
motionless,
as though the words had not been heard
but had fallen upon him all at once.
He returned to the stone house.
He gathered those who remained.
There was no long debate.
Silence spoke louder than any objection.
At last, he said to Najjar:
"I will enter the palace… again."
Najjar warned him,
but he knew that tone
the tone of a decision that does not return.
When he asked to accompany him,
Aram placed a hand on his shoulder and said with quiet finality:
"Stay.
Protect this place.
If this house falls…
everything falls."
Then he asked
Nabalyan – Ghaydar – Siham – Solan
to follow him into the adjacent room.
He spread his belongings on the stone table:
The pouch,
the ring,
the stones,
the dagger,
the prism,
and the glass vial.
He explained the plan,
the vault,
Seraph's words,
and what had to be done quickly and precisely.
Then he took the pouch.
Opened it.
And what emerged…
was not what they expected.
Dust.
Black ash.
It burst forth suddenly,
scattering over the table,
over hands,
over faces.
They gasped.
Stepped back.
And when they looked at one another…
no one could see the other clearly.
Features distorted,
shifted,
fractured,
as if the eye could not grasp the image.
Aram understood first.
He said calmly, strangely calm amid the chaos:
"It doesn't hide…
it confuses."
They noticed quickly.
When one stared long enough at another,
the features began to form.
But with movement…
the effect vanished.
Aram said:
"Then… we don't stop."
And here the final decision was made:
Solan would remain with Najjar,
without anyone knowing.
The house was surrounded.
The noise around it was growing.
And so they moved:
Aram – Nabalyan – Siham – Ghaydar
Toward the palace.
No one felt them pass.
They moved among the soldiers
as if the air itself swallowed them.
Inside the palace,
each took his role.
Siham
slipped among the guards,
listened,
watched,
and memorized paths as one memorizes escape routes.
Ghaydar
entered rooms he was never meant to enter,
and saw Aqqar.
He knew he was responsible for preparing the guillotine.
He clenched his rage,
and delayed his vengeance.
He tampered with chains,
with pulleys,
with balance…
and made death hesitate.
As for Nabalyan,
he stayed with Aram.
They descended into the ancient catacombs,
where guards rarely went.
There…
the ring grew warm on Aram's finger,
as if pulling him toward a specific direction.
He stopped.
Looked around.
In a rocky recess within the wall,
behind an ancient sigil that did not lock but deceived,
there was something he knew before he saw it.
The horn.
It was not displayed.
Not imprisoned.
It lay there as if forgotten…
yet those who knew
understood it had been placed deliberately.
It was not protected by a lock,
but by words and sigils,
and by several jinn.
Aram touched the wall.
The jinn felt the command to withdraw.
Some sigils glowed under the ring's influence,
and the illusion shifted for a moment.
He reached out…
and took the horn.
It made no sound.
It did not shine.
As if the palace itself
had not noticed its absence.
After that, they descended toward the prison corridors.
And there…
they saw what should never have been seen.
Ronen.
Standing before the king.
Removing the vault key from around his neck.
The king shouted,
threatened,
and Ronen… laughed.
"Soon…
the guillotine."
In that instant,
the air changed.
The jinni Nahir turned.
He saw no one…
but he felt something.
He leaned toward Ronen and whispered.
The minister ordered tighter security
and moved to open the vault.
Aram followed.
And before Ronen reached its door,
Aram outran time.
A dagger.
One touch.
A precise disruption at the key's mechanism.
Ronen tried…
failed.
Raged.
And withdrew.
The four returned to the rendezvous point.
Siham had completed her task.
Ghaydar as well.
They returned to the house.
And there…
came the surprise.
Soldiers at the door.
Before anyone could move,
the soldiers began to fall.
One…
then another.
Najjar stood stunned.
He saw nothing.
Only soldiers collapsing without being touched.
Then he heard Aram's voice.
He understood.
He grasped what had happened as it was explained quickly.
They entered.
The dust faded.
Solan laughed as he stepped out of the shadows and said:
"Just as I said…
they were watching the house,
but they weren't watching
who was killing them."
And so…
that night passed,
and that day followed,
waiting for Seraph and the others.
But the news…
was closer
than they thought.
--------------------------------------------------
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