Mukhtar Cave
In one of the journals of the exiled explorer journals that reached my hands by a strange and inexplicable means I began to examine its pages, hoping to uncover the reason behind his banishment by order of the Sultan, and the secret of his disappearance despite the heavy guard imposed upon him in the Green Desert to which he was exiled.
While turning the pages of these journals, I came upon one entry that immediately captured my attention.
I will not share every detail, lest I draw unwanted eyes or leak forbidden knowledge that could bring harm upon me and my family. However, I will ensure the publication of what the journal itself demanded be revealed—through my loyal friend BL while I remain the anonymous narrator.
Now, to the matter at hand…
In the Desert "Beyond the Unknown" within the “Yuarabian Continent” there lives a tribe whose true name I could not discover.
I chose to call them the Pearl Tribe.
They wear white garments that reflect the sun’s rays with a blinding intensity, painful to the eyes.
At the same time, they possess a unique camouflage cloak, drawn in a distinctive manner over the white cloth, rendering the wearer completely invisible amid the yellow sands.
I reached this tribe after a violent sandstorm seized me near the Mountains of “Zelteah” and carried me deep into that desert.
When I awoke, I attempted to move quickly toward a place of safety before the midday sun rose, but the dunes surrounded me in every direction.
Only a few minutes passed before seven figures from the Pearl Tribe stood before me.
I tried to speak to them for mere seconds, but their leader grasped a handful of sand, mixed it with something in his palm, and blew the mixture into my face.
I awoke inside a damp cavern, the stench of blood thick in the air, accompanied by the howling of wind that sounded like terrifying war horns.
Red lights flooded the cavern, emitted by massive crimson rubies embedded in the stone.
At the center of the cavern a view that instilled dread in the heart of any who beheld it lay an enormous pool of blood, its depth clearly vast and unfathomable.
Suspended above it from the ceiling was a sword, dripping blood steadily into the pool below.
On the far left stood a dreadful statue of a mighty soldier, its gaze locked directly onto mine.
For a single moment, I met its eyes.
I heard its voice call me by my full name, then recite my lineage: from House so-and-so, in Alley so-and-so, in Village so-and-so, in Kingdom so-and-so, in Empire so-and-so, upon Continent so-and-so.
Then it spoke:
“I offer you a great dominion one that only a single soul before you has ever attained. If you are the chosen one, then this sword is yours, and destiny itself has led you to it. If you are not the chosen, then the very same destiny will lead you to the depths of that pool, just as it did those before you. So tell me do you see yourself as the chosen, for whom this dominion was written?”
The sword possessed a strange enchantment; merely gazing upon it made one feel as though they truly were the promised emperor.
Yet I paused, turning inward for a moment, as a troubling question crossed my mind: If I were the chosen and refused the offer… would the temple collapse, for example?
Doubt took hold of me doubt toward the tribe and the cavern alike so I decided to test them.
I spoke aloud: “This dominion is not mine, and I will not trade my life for that sword!!”
Silence fell for a few heartbeats.
Then the war-horn winds returned, louder and more horrifying than before, as the pool of blood began to tremble violently.
I looked behind me and saw the members of the tribe covering their ears, struggling against the overwhelming sound that nearly killed us all.
Then, suddenly
Silence.
I found myself standing in a vast, empty hall.
An old man appeared behind me, staring directly into my eyes, and said:
“You are not him … but you are one of us now. Your pen will write for him. Your eyes will see for him. Your mind will learn so that his insight may be illuminated. Destiny has chosen you to serve him throughout your life. So tell me .. can you bear this responsibility?”
A powerful force surged within my chest, compelling me to say:
“I am worthy of destiny’s choice.”
The old man smiled, placed his hand upon my right shoulder, and said: “You will find me along your journey.”
Darkness then consumed the hall.
Slowly, the red lights returned, and I found the leader of the Pearl Tribe standing before me, his right hand upon my right shoulder.
Behind him, the remaining six stood in a line, gazing at the ground, each placing his right hand upon the shoulder of the one before him.
Their leader looked into my eyes and said in a strange accent: “You are our sage … you are destiny’s choice.”
My entire body was frozen by the strangeness of the moment until it happened.
I heard the sound of a whale above the cavern’s ceiling. The sound was unmistakable: a whale swimming directly overhead, as though the cavern lay beneath the ocean floor.
Suddenly, an unbearable headache struck me.
I screamed, clutching my head with all my strength, feeling as though death itself had arrived.
And then
I awoke on my bed in the abandoned village near the Mountains of “Zelteah”
my memories gradually returning.
I remembered deciding to sleep before the sun disappeared behind the mountain, and how the sandstorm struck me the moment I stepped out to gather firewood from a place not far from the village.
But how had I returned?
Was it all merely a nightmare? Yet it felt far more real than any dream I had ever known.
Could it be … that it truly happened?
(End of this part of the journals)