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"Prophet Saleh, where are we going?" Azhar asked.
He was walking with thirty people. Fifteen were women, fifteen were men. All of them were following Prophet Saleh.
"We're going to Mesopotamia," Saleh said calmly.
Azhar stopped for a moment, then walked again beside him.
"Prophet of the Most High… isn't that the place where Prophet Noah lived? Where the disaster came? Where those who disobeyed the Most High were destroyed? Why are we going there?" Azhar asked.
Saleh turned his head and looked back at all of them. They were quiet now, their steps slowing down.
"Because this is the order from the Most High Himself," Saleh said with a strong voice. He raised his hand and showed them something wrapped in cloth.
"See this? This is a piece of Noah's Ark. The Most High commanded me to carry it."
He lowered his hand and looked at them again.
"Let's go."
The people followed, but their hearts were heavy. They still remembered what had happened to Thamud, their tribe.
(POV and Flashback)
Azhar remembered too. Their tribe had come from Shem, the son of Noah. They were descendants of the people of Hud who had once lived in this land — (modern-day Arabia). At first, they were blessed. They were strong and wealthy. But over four hundred years, they became corrupt again.
Their bodies were powerful. Their businesses were vast. But their pride grew too much. They still helped the weak, yes, but inside they were full of arrogance. They thought strength and money made them untouchable.
Then came Saleh. Azhar could still remember when Saleh was a boy. He was smart, sharper than anyone else. He beat the elders at Haugi (their game of intellect). He was a master of strategy and war too. His plans had saved them many times.
But one day everything changed. Saleh announced, "I am the Prophet of the Most High."
Azhar remembered the shock. Even he had felt disgust. Their people had many gods carved on the mountains — Ishtar, Al-Masarah, and others. These were the gods of their ancestors, the ones they believed gave them wisdom.
They mocked Saleh.
"If you're truly the Prophet of the Most High, prove it!" they said.
"Show us a sign from this Creator you talk about. Bring a camel from between the two biggest mountains!"
They thought it was impossible. In their dry, hot land, camels could not survive. They had only one well, which they filled once a month. Camels would die without water.
Azhar remembered Farrell, one of their elders. Farrell looked at the mountains, then knelt down and raised his hands.
"Most High," he prayed, "if what Saleh says is true, show us."
And then it happened. The mountains shook. Rocks cracked. The earth split open. A giant camel, thirty meters tall, walked out from between the peaks.
Azhar's heart stopped. In that moment, he knew Saleh was telling the truth.
But many others refused to believe.
"It's magic!" they shouted.
"He wants to replace our gods with himself!"
Saleh stood before them, calm and strong.
"The Most High gives you three commands," he said.
"First: this camel will drink from the well one day, and you will drink the next.
Second: you may drink her milk.
Third: do not harm her. Let her drink as she desires and let her roam freely."
His voice echoed like thunder through the valley. The camel roared once, and the people stared — some in awe, some glaring.
As time passed, Azhar still thought about it. Some people believed the She-Camel was a true miracle, but most didn't. They whispered, "It's just magic."
But no one could deny one thing — the She-Camel was the most beautiful creature they had ever seen. Still, the hearts of many were corrupt. At night, they held secret meetings, planning against Saleh.
Azhar remembered clearly — the She-Camel gave birth to a child. Hope seemed to shine again. But soon after, the corrupt ones moved. There were nine men. Nine leaders of evil. And the one above them all was Qidar bin Salif.
One day, when the She-Camel came to drink water, Qidar struck her with his sword, slashing her leg. The others rushed in and finished the job.
The She-Camel let out a cry so loud it shook the valley… and then she fell. Her calf, terrified, ran off into the mountains, crying.
The next day, Saleh stood before the tribe. His eyes were full of sadness, but his voice was strong.
"Enjoy your homes for three more days. This is the promise of the Most High. It will not be denied. Your punishment is coming."
When the believers asked, "O Prophet of the Most High, what was the She-Camel really? And the calf that ran away — why did we never find it?"
Saleh looked at them. His voice was heavy, like a blade cutting into their hearts.
"The She-Camel was the embodiment of hope for our people. Her calf was the goodness left among you. But now… both are gone. That means the people of Thamud will face what the people of Hud faced before."
The believers shivered. Their hope vanished. The words of Saleh felt like thunder.
Meanwhile, the nine corrupt men laughed and partied with those who rejected Saleh. They thought they had won. That night, they even tried to kill Saleh. But suddenly, their bodies failed them. Their strength left, their limbs froze. They were struck with paralysis.
From that moment, the curse began.
On the first day, their faces turned black.
On the second day, their faces turned completely blue.
On the third day, their faces turned blood-red.
And on the fourth day, it was the end.
That morning, Saleh gathered his followers. His face was pale, but his eyes were sharp.
"Come. We must leave Thamud."
The believers followed without question. Behind them, the rest of the tribe still mocked, even as their skins changed color. They had killed the She-Camel — they had killed their last hope.
And then it came.
A flash of lightning in broad daylight struck the tribe. BOOM! The ground shook. BOOM! The caves they had carved for safety collapsed, crushing them inside.
Screams echoed, then silence. The people of Thamud were no more.
Saleh stood on the mountain, tears streaming down his face. His voice cracked as he said:
"Never return to this place except to cry. If you come here, let it remind you… so this does not happen to you."
You know, after that day, we followed our Prophet Saleh.
Fifteen men, fifteen women, me, my wife, my children… and Saleh, the Prophet of the Most High, leading us. We walked together, leaving behind the ruins of Thamud.
I still remember… Saleh suddenly stopped. He raised his hand to the sky.
And then, light shone from his palm. Slowly, something appeared in his hand. A piece of old wood. It glowed like it carried the weight of centuries.
We all froze in awe. My heart shook. I stepped forward and asked, "O Prophet Saleh, what is that?"
He looked at us. His eyes were strong but sad. Then he spoke, and his words struck me like thunder:
"This is the piece of salvation. A piece of the Ark of Noah. The Most High commanded me to take you to Mesopotamia. There, a new chapter will begin."
I remember clearly… he called my name. My legs trembled as I stepped forward. He placed the wood into my hands.
"Azhar, this piece will remain with your family for generations. Keep it safe. Keep it close. It is a witness of truth."
My fingers clutched the piece of wood tightly. I knew in that moment… this was no ordinary relic. It was history, faith, and salvation, all in one.
That memory burned into me. Even now, when I close my eyes, I see the light shining on his hand.
As the flashback ended, I found myself asking again, "Prophet Saleh… why Mesopotamia?"
He turned his face to me. Calm, steady.
"It's simple. As I told you, the Most High has commanded it. There we will settle down."
And so, without another word, we followed. Step by step, desert by desert, through sun and night.
After fifty days and fifty nights, we reached Mesopotamia. We built our homes, raised our children, and planted our lives there.
That place became our foundation. That place… we named Ur.