It was the following morning. The day was calm, bathed in sunlight, the sky a clear, flawless blue. Gentle bird songs floated in the air, softening the atmosphere with their delicate melody.
Amr stirred awake, rubbing his eyes thoroughly, then gazed around the room with heavy, weary eyes. Kinan was nowhere to be seen. His heart sank suddenly, and he leapt from bed to search for him.
Stepping into the courtyard, relief washed over him. Kinan was there, a bucket in hand, watering a peach tree, humming softly with quiet happiness.
Amr rested his hand on the doorframe, a tender smile touching his lips—but it vanished almost immediately. A tightness gripped his chest; his breath became shallow. He stepped back a few paces and turned inside, sitting on his bed, covering his face with his hands. His posture spoke volumes of the anxiety and tension gnawing at him. Deep inside, he murmured to himself:
"How long? How long…? Years have passed, yet will I remain like this forever? The boy grows, and with him, so does my worry—day by day. My companion is lost, and I struggle alone."
He lifted his eyes to the ceiling; his limbs trembled, yet he forced himself to regain composure. Clenching his fist, he whispered, trying to steady his resolve:
"Hold it together, Amr… We've endured this stage before. We will not allow it to devour what little hope remains."
Rising, he drew a deep breath and continued:
"This is the mission… You are a man, Amr. You are a warrior. There is still much to do. Do not betray the trust—have you forgotten your promise to your master?"
Confidence returned to him. In life, some people can give themselves trust without relying on others—and Amr was one of them. He shed his sleepwear, donned his usual attire, wrapped the worn brown turban around his head, and stepped into the courtyard, calling to Kinan:
"Boy… go change your clothes. We will take a walk for a while."
Kinan tossed the bucket aside and dashed off enthusiastically to change, while Amr waited for several minutes until the boy returned, fastening his scarf around his waist.
"Where are we going?" Kinan asked.
Amr paused briefly before answering:
"We'll stroll through the back streets of the district. I want you to see the whole place."
Joy flooded Kinan's being.
"Finally… new places to explore! I'll tell my family everything in detail. I won't leave a single thing out, and I'll protect his story for them."
Amr felt a slight pang in his heart, sorrow sweeping over him. This was always the feeling he experienced whenever the boy spoke of his longing to see his family. He placed a hand on Kinan's shoulder with a silent smile, signaling him to move toward the door. He pushed it open, and they stepped out.
They walked among the crowds of miserable people; the sounds of children echoed everywhere. Kinan's eyes roamed the streets with the excitement of a seven-year-old, utterly unreflective of his actual age. Some passersby looked at him with mild disdain, while children laughed at his boyish reactions. Kinan did not understand their laughter; he assumed they were teasing him. But the truth was far more bitter.
Amr was not blind to this and blamed himself silently. His overprotectiveness had prevented the boy from enjoying his childhood freely.
Suddenly, Kinan pointed ahead with a finger:
"Amr, look! That's a big house, raised above the ground!"
Amr looked where the boy indicated and replied calmly:
"That's not a big house… that's a palace. It's elevated because it sits on a city plot."
Kinan's eyes widened in astonishment:
"A palace!?"
"Yes… it resembles the houses here, but it is grander and more magnificent. The king of this city and his family live there," Amr explained.
Kinan looked at the palace again:
"Can we visit it?"
Amr smiled gently:
"No, unfortunately we cannot."
The boy's excitement faltered. Amr noticed it immediately and softened the mood:
"Let's continue our tour for today. Tomorrow, I'll take you somewhere else."
Kinan's disappointment vanished quickly. He lifted his head and exclaimed joyfully:
"Really!? Where to?"
"It's a surprise… but don't get too excited. It's not that extraordinary."
"It doesn't matter… as long as it's beautiful and new," Kinan said with delight.
Amr's gaze swept the surroundings. A group of masked men had broken into a house, dragging a man out by force. The man struggled and cried out:
"I'm not one of them! You've made a mistake, sirs!"
The masked men ignored his pleas, binding him and taking him away. Another pair of men stormed the neighboring house, dragging out a teenager and his father, who pleaded:
"Leave my son alone and take me!"
Of course, no one heeded their pleas; they were tied up and taken with the others.
Amr watched all of this with unease. Every nerve in his body tightened, prompting him to return home immediately after sensing the danger. Kinan saw it too and asked:
"Why are they dragging people from their homes? Are they criminals?"
Amr said nothing, merely taking his hand and walking away. After some time, they returned home.
Amr removed his turban, wiped his face, and muttered:
"What is happening…?"
Suddenly, realization struck him, and his eyes widened. Something important had come to mind—something his fears had momentarily hidden.
"Is this the start of the second semester?" he whispered.
Panic rose as his guess proved correct. He paced the room anxiously, tension gnawing at him again. Kinan followed with puzzled eyes, unsure of what was happening, but his unease grew. "Amr is no longer as he was," he thought. Yet children must not interfere in matters of the grown-ups, and whenever he questioned it, he told himself:
"He must be worried about his trade," and so he ignored his mentor's restlessness entirely.
Night fell, darkness blanketed the world, and the sounds of crickets rose. Kinan slept, but Amr refused to close his eyes.
He walked to the kitchen window, opened it, and stared at the moon:
"O you who dwell in the sky, witness my suffering… my insides burn. I fear I have made a grave mistake. Am I truly fit for this responsibility? I lost the manuscript, my companion, and now this boy's future is at risk because of me."
He paused, letting the night breeze caress his face gently. Closing his eyes in reverence, he exhaled slowly and returned to his place.
Somewhere, beneath an olive tree, a young man stood in a combat stance, gripping a wooden sword. His gaze was fixed ahead.
Directly in front of him stood another handsome youth, black hair flowing behind him, a single white strand dangling over his forehead, also holding a wooden sword.
The first youth glanced at the crowd, smiling not at all—until his eyes met a dignified man with a brown beard and a braid over his right shoulder. The man raised his arms, smiling in approval. The young man returned the smile, then turned forward.
Shock struck. The handsome youth had transformed into a teenager, his eyes entirely black. His lips moved, speaking indistinct words.
Approaching him, the voice became clear:
"Why have you done this to me… Amr?"
The youth staggered backward, terrified, as the arena floor morphed into a vast desert. Sands began to pull him inward. He struggled, shouting with a muffled voice, until the desert swallowed him completely.
Suddenly, the place shifted into a dark void, his body floating. From the darkness, a faint light appeared on a single spot, and he swam toward it. The figure's face came into focus—a smiling man, dagger in hand, who said:
"Hello, Amr… it has been a long time. Is the trust safe now?"
Relief washed over him momentarily—then he found himself back in the arena, lying on the ground, the wooden sword broken beside him.
He looked toward the dignified man, who frowned and said:
"You've disappointed me."
The youth crawled toward him, trying to justify himself…
And Amr awoke.
It had all been a dream—a confusing mix of joy, old memories, and fears, all vivid and overwhelming.
Sweat gleamed on his brow like tiny stars. He wiped it with his elbow and sighed:
"Was that a bad omen… or a sign of fortune? I hope it's the latter."