The Veil and The Scholar

The scent of sandalwood and rosewater hangs heavy in the air as I step into the Temple of the Silent Bells. Oil lamps cast a golden glow on the walls, illuminating intricate carvings that seem to blend Indian and Persian motifs. Mystical scripts dance across the stone, whispering tales of ancient rituals and veiled mysteries. This hidden sanctuary, nestled deep within the misty mountains, hums with a palpable energy, a fusion of Vedic and Sufi traditions I've only read about in dusty tomes.

I came here seeking wisdom, a deeper understanding of the interwoven tapestry of cultures. But the young woman meditating in the center of the sanctum suggests my journey is about to become something far more urgent.

"Aryan Sharma," she says, her voice soft yet resonant, like the chime of a distant bell. "The temple has been waiting for you."

Zohra Akhtar. Her name surfaces unbidden in my mind. She couldn't be more than sixteen, but her eyes hold an ancient knowing that belies her youth. Golden light catches the delicate embroidery on her shawl, and the air around her shimmers with an almost palpable energy.

I incline my head respectfully. "I am honored to be received. I am a humble scholar, eager to learn from the temple's ancient wisdom."

Zohra opens her eyes, and the intensity of her gaze sends a shiver down my spine. "Wisdom is no longer enough, Aryan. The Veil of Shatarupa has been stolen."

The Veil of Shatarupa? The legendary artifact said to maintain the delicate balance between the physical and spiritual realms? My heart quickens. This is far beyond anything I anticipated.

"Stolen?" I ask, my voice betraying my alarm. "But how? And by whom?" "A former ally," Zohra replies, her voice tinged with sadness. "Someone who once walked these halls with reverence. They seek to exploit its power, to tear open the veil and unleash chaos upon the world."

She rises gracefully, her movements fluid and deliberate. "You must recover the Veil, Aryan. Before the next moonrise. Before the rift opens and all is lost."

The weight of her words settles upon me, heavy and undeniable. The fate of this temple, perhaps even the world, rests on my shoulders. I am a scholar, not a warrior. A seeker of knowledge, not a hero. But as I look into Zohra's earnest eyes, I know I cannot refuse.

"Tell me what I must do," I say, my voice firm despite the tremor in my hands. "Tell me everything." Zohra steps closer, and I catch a faint scent of jasmine in her hair. "I have seen glimpses of the path ahead, Aryan. Visions clouded with danger and uncertainty. But I know this: your journey begins in the old bazaar, in the city of Nishapur. Seek out a man named Farid. He will guide you."

Nishapur. The name conjures images of bustling marketplaces, vibrant colors, and exotic spices. A far cry from the serene tranquility of the Temple of the Silent Bells. ´Nishapur,´ I repeat, committing the name to memory. ´And this Farid… what can you tell me about him? What should I look for?´

Zohra hesitates, her brow furrowing slightly. ´Farid is… complicated. He is a merchant, a storyteller, a man of many secrets. He deals in rare artifacts and whispers of forgotten lore. Look for a stall overflowing with carpets, silks, and curiosities. He will be there, waiting. But be warned, Aryan. Trust him cautiously. His motives are not always clear.´

Her words are hardly reassuring, but I appreciate her honesty. In this quest, shrouded in mystery and ancient prophecies, I will need to trust my instincts. ´I understand. I will proceed with caution. What else? Are there any dangers I should be aware of? Beyond the obvious, of course.´

Zohra takes a deep breath, as if bracing herself. ´The one who stole the Veil… his name is Rohan. He was once a respected scholar here, fluent in both Vedic and Sufi traditions. He knows the temple’s secrets, its defenses. And he is skilled in… other arts. Be wary of shadows, Aryan. Rohan commands powers that defy explanation.´

Rohan. Another name to etch into my memory. A former scholar turned rogue, wielding forbidden powers. The stakes are higher than I initially imagined. ´Shadows,´ I repeat, testing the word on my tongue. ´I will be vigilant. Thank you, Zohra. Your guidance is invaluable.´

I turn to leave, but Zohra stops me with a hand on my arm. Her touch is light, yet it sends a jolt of energy through me. ´One more thing, Aryan. Trust your heart. The Veil of Shatarupa responds to pure intentions. If you falter, if you succumb to doubt or fear, it will remain hidden from you.´

Her words resonate deeply, reminding me of my own optimistic apatheism. I do not believe in gods or divine intervention, but I do believe in the power of human connection, the importance of empathy and understanding. Perhaps that is the key to finding the Veil, to restoring balance to this fractured world.

´I will,´ I promise, meeting her gaze with unwavering resolve. ´I will trust my heart.´

With a final nod, I step out of the temple and into the crisp mountain air. The sun is beginning its descent, casting long shadows across the valley. Nishapur awaits. And with it, a perilous journey into the unknown. I take a deep breath, steeling my resolve. The fate of the Temple of the Silent Bells, and perhaps the world, rests on my shoulders. It is time to find Farid and begin the hunt for Rohan and the Veil of Shatarupa.

The descent from the mountains is treacherous. Narrow paths wind precariously along the cliffs, the air growing warmer with each step. The sun dips lower, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple as I finally reach the outskirts of Nishapur. The city sprawls before me, a chaotic tapestry of bustling streets, towering minarets, and domed rooftops. The sounds of bartering, music, and laughter rise to meet me, a stark contrast to the serene silence of the temple. Taking a deep breath, I enter the city gates, immediately swallowed by the throng of people. Merchants hawk their wares, children dart through the crowds, and veiled women glide past, their eyes the only visible feature. The air is thick with the aroma of spices, roasting meats, and sweet pastries. I navigate the labyrinthine streets, my senses overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells. According to Zohra, I need to find Farid’s stall, overflowing with carpets, silks, and curiosities. It seems like searching for a single grain of sand on a beach.

But I press on, my eyes scanning every corner, every alleyway. After what feels like hours, I finally spot it. A stall more vibrant, more cluttered, more… everything than any other I’ve seen. Carpets in every color imaginable hang from the rafters, silks shimmer in the fading light, and a bewildering array of curiosities – from ancient coins to ornate daggers – fills every available space. Behind the stall, a man sits cross-legged, his face etched with wrinkles that speak of a life well-lived. His eyes, however, are sharp and alert, constantly scanning the crowd. This must be Farid. I approach the stall, my heart pounding in my chest. This is it. The first real step in my quest to recover the Veil of Shatarupa. I clear my throat and address the merchant, attempting to project an air of casual interest.

“Good evening, merchant. You have a fine collection of… everything.” Farid raises an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before a slow smile spreads across his face. “Indeed, traveler. I have a little something for everyone. What catches your eye?” I glance around the stall, feigning interest in a silk scarf before meeting his gaze again. “I am looking for something specific, actually. I was told you might be able to help me find it.” His smile widens. “Ah, so you are looking for something more than meets the eye. And who might have sent you to old Farid?” I pause, weighing my options. Should I trust him with the truth? Or should I play it safe and offer a vague answer?

Trust your heart, Zohra’s words echo in my mind. “A friend. She told me you are a man of secrets, a dealer in forgotten lore.” Farid chuckles, a low, rumbling sound. “Aptly put. And what is it that you seek, traveler? What forgotten lore do you desire?” I take a deep breath and meet his gaze directly. “I am looking for the Veil of Shatarupa.” The smile vanishes from Farid’s face, replaced by a look of intense seriousness. He leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You know of the Veil? This is dangerous knowledge, traveler. Very dangerous indeed.”

My pulse quickens as Farid's words hang in the air. The weight of my quest suddenly feels heavier, more real. I glance around the bustling bazaar, suddenly aware of the prying eyes that might be lurking in the shadows. Lowering my voice to match his, I respond, "I know enough. I know it has been stolen, and that its theft threatens the balance of… everything." Farid studies me intently, his gaze piercing. I hold his stare, trying to convey the urgency of my mission, the sincerity of my intentions. After a long, tense moment, he nods slowly. "Very well. I see you are not merely a curious traveler. But speaking of such things in the open is foolish. Come." He gestures for me to follow him, and he deftly navigates through the maze of his stall, disappearing behind a curtain of intricately woven carpets. I hesitate for a moment, then follow him into a small, dimly lit room hidden behind the stall. The air inside is thick with the smell of incense and old paper. Shelves overflowing with scrolls and ancient tomes line the walls.

A single oil lamp casts flickering shadows, creating an atmosphere of mystery and intrigue. Farid closes the curtain behind us, sealing us off from the noise and chaos of the bazaar. He turns to me, his expression grave. "Now, tell me everything. Who are you, and why are you looking for the Veil of Shatarupa?" I take a deep breath and recount my encounter with Zohra, explaining the urgency of the situation and the threat posed by Rohan. I tell him everything, holding nothing back. As I speak, Farid listens intently, his eyes never leaving my face. When I finish, he remains silent for a long moment, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Rohan," he says finally, his voice barely a whisper. "I knew him once, years ago. He was a promising scholar, dedicated to the temple's teachings. But something changed him. He became… obsessed with power, with the secrets hidden within the ancient texts." He sighs, a sound filled with regret. "I should have seen it coming.

I should have done something to stop him." I step closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault, Farid. What matters now is that we stop him before it's too late. Zohra said you could guide me. Can you help me find Rohan?" Farid nods, his eyes filled with newfound determination. "I can. I know Rohan's haunts, his hidden retreats. He will likely seek to harness the Veil's power in a place of significance, a place where the veil between worlds is thin." He pauses, his brow furrowed in thought. "There is an ancient observatory, hidden in the mountains to the east. It was built centuries ago by Zoroastrian priests to study the stars and decipher the secrets of the cosmos. It is a place of immense power, a place where Rohan might try to open the rift." The ancient observatory. It sounds like a perilous destination, but I know we have no choice. "Then that is where we must go," I say, my voice resolute. "When can we leave?" Farid nods.

"We leave at dawn. The journey is long and arduous, and we must reach the observatory before Rohan can complete his ritual." He looks at me, his eyes filled with concern. "But be warned, Aryan. The path ahead is fraught with danger. Rohan will not hesitate to use the Veil's power to protect himself. Are you prepared to face such peril?" I meet his gaze, my heart filled with a mixture of fear and determination. "I am. The fate of the temple, perhaps the world, depends on it." Farid smiles, a hint of his former cheerfulness returning. "Then let us prepare for our journey. Dawn approaches quickly, and we have much to do." He gestures towards a corner of the room, where a collection of weapons and supplies is stored. "Choose your weapon, traveler. And prepare yourself for the fight of your life."

I nod, steeling myself. The gravity of my mission settles deep within me. I step towards the corner Farid indicated. A collection of swords, daggers, and bows line the wall, each glinting ominously in the dim light. I eye them, considering my options. I'm no warrior, but I can handle myself. My gaze settles on a simple, yet elegant, tulwar with a curved blade. It feels balanced in my hand, an extension of my arm.

 "This one," I say, testing its weight. Farid nods approvingly. "A good choice. A tulwar is a versatile weapon, favored by travelers and warriors alike. But a blade alone will not suffice. Take this." He hands me a small, leather-bound pouch. "Salt. Keep it close. It might prove useful against things not of this world." I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Things not of this world?"

 Farid's expression turns grave once more. "The Veil of Shatarupa does not merely separate the physical and spiritual realms. It holds back… other things. Things that crave entry into our world. Rohan's actions may have already weakened the barrier." I nod, a chill running down my spine. I secure the pouch to my belt, feeling a strange sense of comfort in its presence. "What else do we need?" "Provisions, mostly," Farid replies, turning to a stack of supplies. 

"Water, dried fruits, dates. The journey to the observatory is long and unforgiving. We must be prepared for days of travel through harsh terrain." We spend the next few hours preparing for our journey, gathering supplies and making sure we are ready for whatever lies ahead.

As we work, Farid shares more about the observatory, its history, and the dangers that await us. He tells me of ancient guardians, spirits bound to protect the sacred site, and of the powerful energies that permeate the area. As the first rays of dawn begin to peek through the cracks in the curtains, we are finally ready.

I sling a pack over my shoulder, feeling the weight of the supplies. Farid leads me out of the hidden room, back into the bustling bazaar. The marketplace is just beginning to stir, vendors setting up their stalls, and early morning shoppers haggling over prices. We blend into the crowd, two ordinary travelers embarking on a journey.

But beneath the surface, we carry a heavy burden, the fate of the world resting on our shoulders. As we reach the edge of the city, Farid turns to me, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and apprehension. "Are you ready, Aryan?" he asks. I take a deep breath, feeling the cool morning air fill my lungs.

"Ready as I'll ever be." And with that, we set off towards the eastern mountains, towards the ancient observatory, and towards the inevitable confrontation with Rohan. The sun climbs higher in the sky as we walk, the city fading behind us, replaced by the vast expanse of the desert.

The desert stretches before us, an endless sea of sand and rock. The air shimmers with heat, and the sun beats down relentlessly. Farid sets a brisk pace, his years of experience as a merchant evident in his steady stride. I follow close behind, my tulwar bumping against my side. As we walk, Farid points out landmarks, ancient ruins, and hidden oases known only to a few. He tells stories of the desert, of its dangers and its beauty, of the people who have called it home for centuries. I listen intently, absorbing his knowledge, trying to understand the spirit of this place. Hours pass, and the landscape begins to change. The sand gives way to rocky hills, and the vegetation becomes sparse, thorny bushes clinging to the barren ground. We begin to climb, the air growing thinner with each step. The mountains loom in the distance, their peaks shrouded in mist. As we ascend, I notice a strange stillness in the air, a sense of unease that prickles my skin.

I glance at Farid, and he nods grimly. ´We are entering the domain of the guardians,´ he says, his voice barely a whisper. ´Be vigilant. They are always watching.´ I grip my tulwar tighter, my senses on high alert. Every shadow seems to move, every rustle of leaves sounds like a warning. We continue to climb, the path growing steeper and more treacherous. As we round a bend, we come face to face with a towering stone statue, its features weathered by centuries of wind and sand. The statue depicts a fierce-looking warrior, his eyes burning with an inner fire. It stands guard over the path, its presence both imposing and unsettling. Farid stops before the statue, bowing his head in reverence. ´We come in peace,´ he says, his voice respectful. ´We seek only to restore balance to the world.´ The statue remains silent, its gaze unwavering.

After a long moment, Farid nods to me, and we continue on our way, passing beneath the watchful eyes of the guardian. As we leave the statue behind, I feel a sense of relief, but also a growing sense of foreboding. The air grows colder, and the wind begins to howl. We are entering a place of great power, a place where the veil between worlds is thin. I know that Rohan is close, and that the confrontation is inevitable. I steel myself for the battle ahead, ready to face whatever dangers lie in wait. The sun begins to set, casting long shadows across the mountains. We find a small cave to take shelter for the night, building a fire to ward off the chill. As we sit by the fire, Farid tells me more about the observatory, its purpose, and its secrets. He speaks of the Zoroastrian priests who built it, of their quest to understand the cosmos, and of the rituals they performed to harness the energies of the stars. He warns me of the dangers of the Veil of Shatarupa, of its power to corrupt and destroy. I listen intently, trying to absorb his wisdom, preparing myself for the challenges ahead.

As the night wears on, I find it hard to sleep. The wind howls outside the cave, and strange noises echo through the mountains. I toss and turn, my mind racing with thoughts of Rohan, of the Veil, and of the fate that awaits us. Finally, as the first rays of dawn begin to appear on the horizon, I rise, ready to face the day. We break camp quickly, packing our supplies and preparing for the final ascent to the observatory. As we step out of the cave, I see it in the distance, perched atop the highest peak, its ancient stones gleaming in the morning light. The observatory. Our destination. The place where our quest will reach its climax. I take a deep breath, feeling a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. ´Let´s go,´ I say, my voice resolute. ´It´s time to face Rohan.´ And with that, we begin our final ascent, towards the observatory, towards the inevitable confrontation, towards the fate that awaits us.
The climb is arduous, the air thin and biting. Jagged rocks dig into my boots, and my muscles scream in protest. But the sight of the observatory keeps me going, a beacon in the harsh landscape. Farid moves with surprising agility for his age, his knowledge of the terrain guiding us through treacherous paths. As we near the summit, the wind intensifies, whipping around us like a sandstorm. I squint, trying to make out the details of the observatory. It's a massive structure of ancient stone, its walls scarred by time and weather. A large dome dominates the center, its bronze surface glinting in the sunlight. As we crest the final ridge, we see it. The entrance to the observatory. But it is not unguarded. Two figures stand before the entrance, their faces obscured by dark cloaks. They are armed with curved scimitars, their stances suggesting years of training. Rohan's guards. Farid stops beside me, his eyes narrowed.

´We were expected,´ he says grimly. ´Prepare yourself, Aryan. This will not be easy.´ I draw my tulwar, its polished surface reflecting the harsh sunlight. The guards advance, their movements fluid and menacing. They do not speak, their eyes burning with a cold, unwavering focus. The battle begins. The guards attack with swift, precise strikes, their scimitars whistling through the air. I parry their blows with my tulwar, the clang of steel echoing through the mountains. I am outmatched in terms of skill, but I fight with a fierce determination, fueled by the urgency of my quest. Farid engages one of the guards, his movements surprisingly agile. He fights with a series of feints and dodges, keeping the guard at bay. I focus on the other guard, trying to anticipate his attacks. He lunges forward, his scimitar aimed at my throat. I duck beneath the blow, twisting my body to avoid the blade. I retaliate with a swift strike, aiming for his arm.

He parries my blow, his scimitar deflecting my blade. We continue to fight, our movements a blur of steel and sweat. The wind howls around us, making it difficult to hear. I know that we must defeat these guards if we are to reach Rohan and recover the Veil. I push myself harder, fighting with every ounce of strength I possess. Finally, I see an opening. The guard hesitates for a moment, his focus wavering. I seize the opportunity, lunging forward with a swift strike. My tulwar finds its mark, piercing his armor and drawing blood. The guard cries out in pain, stumbling backward. I press my advantage, attacking with a series of relentless blows. The guard is unable to defend himself, and he falls to the ground, defeated. I turn to see how Farid is faring. He is locked in a fierce struggle with his opponent, their movements a blur of steel and muscle. The guard is skilled, but Farid is holding his own, his experience and knowledge of combat proving invaluable.

I move to assist him, but Farid waves me away. ´Go on, Aryan!´ he shouts. ´I can handle this! Stop Rohan!´ I hesitate for a moment, then nod. I know that Farid is right. Rohan is the greater threat, and I must stop him before it is too late. I turn and run towards the entrance of the observatory, leaving Farid to face the remaining guard. I push open the heavy stone doors and step inside, my heart pounding in my chest. The air inside is cold and still, the silence broken only by the sound of my own breathing. I know that Rohan is here, waiting for me. The final confrontation is at hand. I grip my tulwar tighter and venture deeper into the observatory, ready to face whatever awaits me. The fate of the Veil, and perhaps the world, hangs in the balance.

I step into the observatory, and the heavy stone doors groan shut behind me, plunging me into near darkness. My eyes struggle to adjust, and I raise my tulwar, its polished surface reflecting the faint light filtering through cracks in the ancient walls. The air is thick with the scent of dust and decay, a stark contrast to the biting wind outside.

As my vision clears, I begin to make out the details of the interior. It is a vast, circular chamber, its walls lined with crumbling shelves filled with ancient scrolls and astronomical instruments. A massive telescope dominates the center of the room, its brass and lenses gleaming in the dim light. The air hums with a low, almost imperceptible energy.

"Rohan?" I call out, my voice echoing through the chamber. "It's over. Give up the Veil."

Silence. Only the whisper of the wind seems to answer.

I proceed cautiously, my senses on high alert. The silence is unnerving, the darkness oppressive. I pass by the shelves, my fingers tracing the spines of the ancient scrolls. They are written in a language I do not recognize, filled with diagrams of celestial bodies and arcane symbols.

As I round the telescope, I see him. Rohan stands before a large, ornate table, his back to me. He is clad in a dark robe, his head bowed. The Veil of Shatarupa lies on the table before him, shimmering with an ethereal light.

"Rohan," I say again, my voice firm. "Stop this now. You don't know what you're doing."

He does not turn. "I know exactly what I'm doing, Aryan," he says, his voice low and raspy. "I am opening the way to a new world. A world of power, of knowledge, of enlightenment."

"That's not enlightenment, Rohan," I reply. "That's madness. The Veil is not meant to be used this way. It's a balance, a safeguard."

He laughs, a hollow, bitter sound. "Balance? Safeguard? You speak of things you do not understand, Aryan. The world is stagnant, decaying. It needs to be cleansed, purified. And I am the one who will do it."

He turns to face me, his eyes burning with a fanatical gleam. In his hand, he holds a dagger, its blade glinting in the dim light.

"Join me, Aryan," he says, his voice persuasive. "Together, we can reshape the world. We can become gods."

I shake my head. "I will never join you, Rohan. What you are doing is wrong. And I will stop you."

He sighs, a sound of disappointment. "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this, Aryan. But you leave me no choice."

He raises the dagger, and the air crackles with energy. The Veil on the table begins to glow brighter, its light intensifying.

"Then you will die with the old world," Rohan declares.

He lunges at me, the dagger aimed at my heart. The battle for the Veil, and the fate of the world, has begun.

I raise my tulwar to meet Rohan's attack, the clang of steel echoing through the observatory. His movements are swift, fueled by a desperate energy. The dagger flashes, a silver streak in the dim light, aimed with deadly precision. I parry his thrusts, the force of his blows jarring my arm. He fights with a ferocity I did not expect, his eyes burning with an almost manic intensity. "You cannot stop me, Aryan!" he snarls, his breath hot on my face. "The power is mine!"

The Veil on the table pulses with light, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The air grows thick with energy, making it hard to breathe. I can feel the ancient power emanating from the artifact, a force that seems to amplify Rohan's madness. I realize that I must disarm him, and quickly. The longer he wields the dagger near the Veil, the stronger he becomes, and the more unstable the energy in the room grows.

I try to anticipate his attacks, stepping back to create distance. I need to find an opening, a moment of weakness where I can strike and disarm him without endangering the Veil. He presses his attack, relentless, giving me no room to breathe. I stumble backward, my foot catching on a loose stone. I lose my balance for a moment, and Rohan seizes the opportunity. He lunges forward, the dagger aimed at my chest.

I twist my body at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the blade. It grazes my side, tearing through my tunic and drawing a line of blood. Pain shoots through my body, but I ignore it, adrenaline coursing through my veins. This is it. I have to act now.

With a surge of strength, I shove him away, creating some space between us. He stumbles backward, momentarily thrown off balance. I seize the opportunity, lunging forward with a swift, precise strike. My tulwar flashes, arcing through the air. It connects with his wrist, severing his grip on the dagger. The weapon clatters to the floor.

Rohan cries out in pain, clutching his wrist. I don't hesitate. I kick the dagger away, sending it skittering across the stone floor. The Veil's light dims slightly, the energy in the room stabilizing. But the battle is far from over. Rohan may be disarmed, but he is still dangerous, his eyes burning with a fanatical determination. "You think you've won, Aryan?" he gasps, his voice filled with rage. "You're wrong! This is just the beginning!"

Rohan, despite his injured wrist, lunges at me again, fueled by pure rage. He throws a wild punch, which I easily dodge. He's no longer fighting with skill, but with desperation. I realize I can't simply subdue him; the Veil is too tempting, too close. As long as he's conscious, he'll try to reach it, and I can't risk him further destabilizing its power.

"It's over, Rohan," I say, trying to reason with him one last time. "Don't make this worse than it already is."

He ignores me, continuing his relentless assault. I block another clumsy blow and decide to end this quickly. I feint left, then deliver a swift kick to his midsection. He doubles over, gasping for air. I follow up with a strike from the flat of my tulwar to the back of his neck. He crumples to the ground, unconscious.

I stand over him for a moment, catching my breath. The observatory is silent once more, save for the faint hum of the Veil. The immediate threat is neutralized, but the danger is far from over. I still have to secure the Veil and somehow contain the energy Rohan has unleashed.

I approach the table cautiously. The Veil shimmers, its colors swirling like a nebula. It radiates an almost palpable warmth, a sensation that both soothes and unsettles me. I reach out slowly, hesitant to touch it.

As my fingers brush against the silken fabric, a surge of energy courses through my body. Images flood my mind: visions of swirling galaxies, ancient temples, and faces of people I've never met. It's overwhelming, disorienting.

I pull my hand back quickly, stumbling backward. The visions fade, leaving me breathless and shaken. The Veil is more powerful than I imagined. I need to be careful. Very careful.

I remember Farid's words about the salt. He said it might be necessary against entities from beyond the veil. Could it also help stabilize the artifact? It's worth a try.

I reach into my pouch and take out a pinch of the salt. With a deep breath, I scatter it around the base of the table, creating a circle of protection. The salt shimmers briefly, then settles, forming a faint, almost invisible barrier.

I reach for the Veil again, this time more deliberately. I grasp it firmly, trying to focus my will, to contain its power. The energy still flows through me, but it's less chaotic now, more manageable. I feel a sense of connection to the artifact, as if it's responding to my touch.

Now what? I need to get the Veil back to the Temple of the Silent Bells, to Zohra. She's the only one who knows how to truly safeguard it. But how do I transport it without causing further disruptions? And what about Rohan? I can't just leave him here.

I decide to tie him up, enough for him to not be a threat for the time being, but without hurting him.

The weight of the Veil feels heavy in my hands, and the responsibility weighs even heavier on my soul. The journey ahead will be long and fraught with peril. But I know what I have to do. I am a cultural scholar, not a hero, but destiny has chosen me for this task. And I will not fail.

With Rohan securely bound, I turn my attention to the Veil of Shatarupa. Holding it feels like grasping a captured storm. The fabric is cool to the touch, yet it radiates an inner heat that thrums against my skin. I need to find a way to carry it safely back to the temple. Looking around the observatory, my eyes land on a sturdy wooden chest tucked away in a corner. It looks old, but solid. Perhaps it can serve as a temporary vessel. I drag the chest over to the table, its wooden legs scraping against the stone floor. It´s surprisingly heavy, but I manage to position it near the Veil. I hesitate for a moment, considering the risks. Enclosing the Veil might amplify its power, or it might help contain it. I have no way of knowing for sure. But I have to try.

With a deep breath, I gently place the Veil inside the chest. As soon as the fabric touches the wood, a jolt of energy surges through the observatory. The lights flicker, and the air crackles with static. I brace myself, expecting the chest to explode, but nothing happens. The energy subsides, and the Veil settles within the chest, its light muted but still present. I let out a sigh of relief. It seems to be contained, at least for now. I close the lid of the chest and secure it with a rusty latch. It´s not much, but it´s better than nothing. Now comes the hard part: transporting it. The chest is heavy, and the journey back to Nishapur will be arduous, especially with Rohan in tow. I decide to wake him up. He needs to answer for what he has done.

I splash some water on his face. He sputters, his eyes fluttering open. He stares up at me, dazed and confused. ´What… what happened?´ he mumbles. ´You failed, Rohan,´ I say, my voice cold. ´It´s over.´ He struggles against his bonds, his eyes filled with hatred. ´You haven´t won, Aryan,´ he snarls. ´This is just a setback. The power… it will find a way.´ I ignore his threats. I have no time for his delusions. I need to focus on getting the Veil back to the temple and ensuring that it never falls into the wrong hands again. I hoist the heavy chest onto my shoulder, wincing at the strain. It´s going to be a long journey.

I grab Rohan by the arm and haul him to his feet. He stumbles, but I keep him upright. ´Let´s go,´ I say. ´We´re leaving.´ We start our descent from the observatory, the wind whipping around us. The sun is beginning to set, casting long shadows across the mountains. I know that the journey ahead will be fraught with danger, but I am determined to succeed. The fate of the Veil, and perhaps the world, depends on it. As we make our way down the treacherous path, I can´t help but wonder what awaits us in the days to come. The power that Rohan sought is still out there, lurking in the shadows. And I have a feeling that this is far from over.

The descent from the observatory is slow and arduous. The chest digs into my shoulder, and Rohan's dead weight doesn't make it any easier. Farid, ever vigilant, takes the lead, his eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of trouble. He moves with a grace that belies his age, a stark contrast to my own clumsy efforts.

"Easy, Aryan," he says, his voice calm and reassuring. "We'll get there. Just one step at a time."

Rohan remains silent, his eyes fixed on the ground. I can feel his resentment, a palpable presence that hangs heavy in the air. Every now and then, he throws a hateful glare at me, but I refuse to meet his gaze. I can't afford to be distracted.

As darkness falls, we reach a small cave nestled among the rocks. Farid suggests we stop for the night. "We can't push ourselves too hard," he says. "We need to rest and conserve our strength."

I agree, grateful for the opportunity to unload the chest and stretch my aching muscles. We settle into the cave, lighting a small fire to ward off the chill. The flames cast dancing shadows on the cave walls, creating an eerie atmosphere.

Farid produces some dried fruit and nuts from his pack, and we share a meager meal. Rohan refuses to eat, his face a mask of defiance. I shrug. It's his choice.

After we eat, Farid speaks. "So, Aryan," he says, his eyes glinting in the firelight. "What do you intend to do with Rohan once we return to the temple?"

I consider his question. I haven't really thought about it. My focus has been solely on retrieving the Veil. "I don't know," I admit. "That's for the temple elders to decide."

Farid nods slowly. "He has committed a grave offense," he says. "Stealing the Veil… it's an act of sacrilege. He will likely face severe punishment."

Rohan finally speaks, his voice laced with bitterness. "They won't understand," he says. "They're too blind to see the truth. The Veil… it's meant to be used. It's a source of power, a key to unlocking untold potential."

"Power corrupts, Rohan," I say, my voice firm. "You've seen what it can do."

"I sought to control it, not be controlled," he replies, a flicker of desperation in his eyes. "I wanted to reshape the world, to make it a better place."

"And what gives you the right to decide what's better for everyone?" I retort. "You can't force your vision on others. That's not how it works."

He falls silent, his gaze hardening. I know that I can't reason with him. His mind is too far gone, twisted by ambition and the lure of power.

We sit in silence for a long moment, the only sound the crackling of the fire. The weight of the Veil in the chest feels heavier than ever, a constant reminder of the danger we face.

Before drifting off to sleep, Farid whispers, "Be careful, Aryan. Rohan is not the only threat we face. The Veil… it attracts unwanted attention."

His words send a shiver down my spine. I know that he's right. The power of the Veil is a beacon, drawing those who seek to exploit it. I clutch the tulwar by my side, my senses on high alert. The night is dark, and the journey is far from over. I have a feeling that we are not alone.

I wake before dawn, the chill of the desert seeping into my bones. Farid is already awake, tending to the fire. He offers me a cup of hot tea, its warmth spreading through me. Rohan remains asleep, huddled in a corner. I eye him warily. I don't trust him for a second. After a quick breakfast of dried fruit and nuts, we pack up our meager belongings and prepare to leave. I hoist the chest onto my shoulder, its weight a familiar burden. As we step out of the cave, I notice something strange. The ground around the entrance is disturbed, as if someone has been digging. I glance at Farid, and he nods grimly. ´They were here,´ he whispers. ´Last night.´ I scan the surrounding area, my hand instinctively reaching for the tulwar. The landscape is barren and unforgiving, offering little in the way of cover.

But I can feel eyes on us, watching from the shadows. ´We need to move,´ I say. ´Now.´ We start our descent, moving as quickly as we can. I keep a close eye on Rohan, making sure he doesn't try anything. He seems subdued, but I know that he's just waiting for an opportunity. As we round a bend in the path, we are ambushed. Figures emerge from behind the rocks, their faces hidden behind masks. They are armed with swords and daggers, their eyes filled with malice. ´The Veil,´ one of them snarls. ´Give us the Veil, and we'll let you live.´ I grip my tulwar, my heart pounding in my chest. I have no intention of surrendering. ´You'll have to take it from me,´ I say, my voice steady. The bandits charge, their blades flashing in the morning light. I brace myself for the onslaught, my senses heightened.

The first bandit lunges at me, his sword aimed at my chest. I parry his blow with my tulwar, the force of the impact jarring my arm. I retaliate with a swift strike, catching him off guard. He cries out in pain, clutching his arm. Farid engages another bandit, his movements surprisingly agile. He dodges and weaves, his hands a blur of motion. He disarms his opponent with a well-placed kick, sending the bandit sprawling. Rohan watches the fight, his expression unreadable. I can't tell if he's rooting for us or for the bandits. As I fight, I realize that these are not ordinary thugs. They are skilled warriors, their movements precise and deadly. They know what they're doing. I manage to take down another bandit, but more keep coming. I'm starting to get tired, my muscles aching.

I know that I can't keep this up for long. Suddenly, Rohan makes his move. He shoves me aside, knocking me off balance. He grabs the chest containing the Veil and runs towards the bandits. ´I'll give you what you want,´ he shouts. ´Just let me go!´ I watch in disbelief as Rohan betrays us. He's willing to sacrifice anything, even his own life, for the sake of power. The bandits hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. But then, their leader nods, and they close in on Rohan. I know that I have to act fast. If the Veil falls into the wrong hands, the consequences could be disastrous. I push myself to my feet, ignoring the pain in my body. I charge towards Rohan, my tulwar raised. I have to stop him, no matter the cost.

Time seems to slow as I sprint toward Rohan, the tulwar feeling like an extension of my arm. He's bargaining with the bandits, offering them the Veil in exchange for his freedom. Disgust and a burning sense of urgency fuel my movements. I reach them just as the bandit leader reaches for the chest. With a roar, I swing the tulwar, aiming not to kill, but to disarm. The blade connects with the bandit's outstretched hand; he yells, retracting it as blood blooms.

Chaos erupts. The bandits, momentarily stunned by my intervention, turn their attention to me. Rohan, realizing his plan has failed, shrinks back, fear etched on his face. He's a liability, but I can't afford to focus on him now.

Farid, ever the loyal companion, joins the fray, his fists flying. He moves with surprising speed, a whirlwind of jabs and kicks that keep the bandits at bay. We fight back-to-back, a united front against overwhelming odds.

Despite our combined efforts, the bandits are relentless. They press their attack, their numbers slowly wearing us down. I take a blow to the arm, a searing pain that momentarily weakens my grip on the tulwar. Farid catches a dagger in the shoulder, wincing but continuing to fight.

Desperate, I remember the pouch of salt Farid gave me. It’s a long shot, but I have nothing to lose. I reach into my belt, grab a handful of the coarse grains, and fling it at the closest bandit.

The effect is instantaneous. The bandit screams, clutching his face as the salt burns his skin. He stumbles back, momentarily blinded. Seizing the opportunity, I strike, knocking him to the ground.

Emboldened, I repeat the process, scattering salt into the faces of the remaining bandits. They recoil in pain and confusion, giving us the opening we need.

“Farid, now!” I yell, and together we press our advantage, driving the bandits back. They break ranks, scrambling away into the rocks, leaving Rohan cowering on the ground.

We stand panting, our bodies bruised and battered, but victorious. The chest containing the Veil lies untouched, a silent testament to the power it holds.

I turn to Rohan, my eyes filled with disappointment. “Why, Rohan? Why would you do this?”

He looks up at me, his face a mask of desperation. “I… I just wanted to be free,” he stammers. “I wanted the power to change things.”

“You can’t control the Veil, Rohan,” I say, my voice weary. “It will control you.”

I secure Rohan once more and retrieve the chest.
“We need to move, and fast. They will be back, and next time they will be better prepared.”
Farid nods in agreement. He helps me hoist the chest.
“Let’s move” I say.

As we move on, I wonder to myself what awaits us. The veil is growing heavier with each step I take.

The sun beats down on us as we continue our trek, the landscape a blur of sand and rock. Farid’s wound seems to be slowing him down, but he refuses to stop, his determination unwavering. Rohan, subdued and silent, trudges along beside me, his eyes downcast. I steal glances at him, trying to decipher his thoughts, but his face remains an unreadable mask.

As we round a bend, a shimmering mirage appears in the distance. At first, I dismiss it as a trick of the light, but as we draw closer, I realize it’s real. It’s an oasis, a verdant paradise in the heart of the desert. Palm trees sway in the breeze, and a crystal-clear spring gurgles invitingly.

“Water,” Farid rasps, his voice filled with longing. “We must stop.”

I agree, my own throat parched and burning. We make our way to the oasis, our steps quickening with anticipation. But as we approach, I notice something amiss. The air is heavy with an unnatural stillness, and the shadows seem to deepen as we draw closer.

“Be careful,” I murmur, my hand instinctively reaching for the tulwar. “Something’s not right.”

We enter the oasis cautiously, our senses on high alert. The silence is deafening, broken only by the gentle rustling of the palm trees. The spring looks inviting, but I hesitate to drink, a sense of unease washing over me.

Suddenly, the ground begins to tremble. The palm trees sway violently, and the air crackles with energy. A figure emerges from the shadows, tall and imposing, its face hidden behind a veil.

“Welcome,” the figure says, its voice a chilling whisper. “I have been expecting you.”

I grip my tulwar tightly, my heart pounding in my chest. “Who are you?” I demand. “What do you want?”

The figure laughs, a cold and mocking sound. “I am the guardian of this oasis,” it says. “And I want what you carry.”

It gestures towards the chest containing the Veil, its eyes burning with unnatural intensity. “The Veil of Shatarupa,” it hisses. “It belongs to me.”

I step forward, shielding the chest with my body. “The Veil belongs to no one,” I say. “It is meant to be returned to the temple.”

The figure scoffs. “The temple is a prison,” it says. “The Veil is meant to be used, to unlock untold power.”

It raises its hand, and the oasis comes alive. The palm trees transform into grotesque figures, their branches twisting into sharp claws. The spring turns into a swirling vortex of darkness.

“Surrender the Veil,” the figure commands. “Or face my wrath.”

I stand my ground, my resolve unwavering. I will not let this creature take the Veil. I will protect it, no matter the cost.

“I will not surrender,” I say, my voice ringing with defiance. “The Veil is my responsibility, and I will not fail.”

The figure’s eyes narrow, and it unleashes its power. The oasis erupts in chaos, and the battle begins.

The oasis explodes with raw energy. The guardian, now wreathed in swirling sand and shadow, lunges towards me. I brace myself, tulwar raised, and meet its attack head-on. The blade sings as it clashes against an unseen force, a shock reverberating through my arm. The air crackles with power, and I can feel the Veil thrumming in the chest behind me.

Farid, despite his injury, is a whirlwind of motion, darting around the edges of the fight, distracting the guardian with well-aimed throws of sand and stones. Rohan remains huddled on the ground, seemingly paralyzed by fear. The transformed palm trees lash out with their thorny branches, forcing me to constantly dodge and weave while trying to land a blow on the elusive guardian.

I realize a direct confrontation is useless. The guardian is too powerful, its movements too fluid. I need to find a weakness, exploit a vulnerability. I remember Farid’s words about the salt – a defense against entities from beyond the veil. Could it work here? It's a long shot, but I have nothing to lose.

As the guardian unleashes another blast of energy, I roll to the side, narrowly avoiding the impact. I fumble for the pouch of salt, ripping it open with my teeth. The guardian advances, its shadowy form looming over me. With a desperate yell, I hurl the salt into its face.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then, the guardian staggers back, clutching its face, a hiss escaping from behind its veil. The sand and shadows around it flicker and dissipate, revealing a glimpse of something… inhuman. The salt is working!

I seize the opportunity, surging forward with renewed determination. The tulwar flashes in the sunlight, aiming for the exposed area where the veil momentarily parts. I strike with all my strength, the blade meeting resistance but finding purchase. A piercing shriek fills the air as the guardian recoils, its form dissolving into smoke.

The transformed palm trees revert to their natural state, their branches drooping wearily. The swirling vortex of darkness dissipates, leaving behind the clear, still spring. The oasis falls silent once more, the unnatural energy replaced by a sense of profound peace.

I stand panting, the tulwar trembling in my hand. Farid rushes to my side, his face etched with concern. "Aryan! Are you alright?"

"I… I think so," I say, sheathing the tulwar. I glance towards Rohan, who is still cowering on the ground. He avoids my gaze, shame evident in his posture.

The chest containing the Veil lies undisturbed nearby. The immediate threat is gone, but the encounter leaves me shaken. This power, this responsibility… it's far greater than I imagined.

"What now?" Farid asks, his voice filled with weariness.

"Now," I say, my voice firm despite the tremor in my hands, "we return to the temple. The Veil must be secured, and Rohan must face justice for his actions."

Farid nods in agreement, his eyes filled with a grim resolve. He helps me lift the heavy chest, and we begin our trek back across the desert. Rohan, still subdued, shuffles along behind us, his presence a constant reminder of the betrayal and danger we have faced.

The journey back is arduous. The sun beats down mercilessly, and the sand stretches out endlessly before us. Farid's wound continues to trouble him, slowing our pace. I offer to carry the chest myself, but he refuses, his pride unyielding.

As we walk, I find myself reflecting on everything that has happened. The quiet scholar who arrived at the temple is gone, replaced by someone weathered by hardship, skilled in combat, and burdened with a profound responsibility. I think about Zohra, the young mystic who set me on this path. I wonder if she knew the true extent of the dangers that lay ahead.

On the second day of our return journey, we encounter a group of nomads camped near a well. They are wary at first, their eyes scrutinizing us with suspicion. But Farid, with his knowledge of the local customs and his easy charm, manages to put them at ease. We share water and dried fruit with them, exchanging stories and laughter.

The nomads warn us of bandits operating in the area, preying on travelers and caravans. They advise us to avoid the mountain pass, suggesting a longer but safer route through the dunes. I listen carefully, weighing our options. The pass is shorter, but the risk of encountering bandits is high. The dunes are longer, but offer better cover and fewer opportunities for ambush.

I look to Farid for his opinion. He studies the map, his brow furrowed in concentration. "The pass is tempting," he says, "but the nomads are right. It's too dangerous. We take the dunes."

I agree with his assessment. Safety must be our priority, especially with the Veil in our possession. We thank the nomads for their hospitality and their warning, and set off once more, following their directions towards the dunes.

As we venture deeper into the undulating landscape, I feel a sense of unease creeping over me. The dunes are silent and desolate, the only sound the whisper of the wind. The sun glares down, creating mirages that dance on the horizon. I can't shake the feeling that we are being watched.

I scan the dunes, my hand instinctively reaching for the tulwar. Rohan, who has been silent for hours, suddenly stops, his eyes wide with fear. "They're here," he whispers, his voice trembling. "I can feel them."

I follow his gaze, searching the horizon. And then I see them. Figures on horseback, emerging from behind the dunes, their faces hidden behind scarves. Bandits. They have found us.

The bandits charge towards us, their horses kicking up clouds of sand. There are at least a dozen of them, their faces grim and determined. They brandish curved swords and spears, their eyes fixed on the chest containing the Veil. "Farid, get behind me!" I shout, drawing my tulwar. I plant my feet firmly in the sand, ready to face the onslaught. Farid, despite his injury, moves quickly, positioning himself behind me, his hand resting on the hilt of his own sword. Rohan cowers behind the chest, his eyes darting back and forth in panic. The bandits close in, their horses thundering across the sand. The leader, a burly man with a scarred face, raises his sword and lets out a guttural cry. "The Veil is ours!" he shouts. "Surrender it, and we will let you live!" I grit my teeth, my grip tightening on the tulwar. "We will not surrender," I reply, my voice ringing with defiance. "The Veil belongs to no one." The leader snarls and signals to his men.

The bandits attack, a whirlwind of steel and fury. I parry the first blow, the impact jarring my arm. I counter with a swift strike, forcing the bandit back. Farid joins the fray, his agility and skill surprising me once again. He moves like a dancer, deflecting blows and landing precise strikes. But the bandits are too many. They swarm around us, their attacks relentless. I feel a sharp pain in my side as a bandit's sword grazes my flesh. I ignore the pain, focusing on the fight. I remember the salt, still in the pouch at my belt. It worked against the guardian of the oasis, perhaps it can work against these bandits too. I try to create an opening, dodging and weaving through the chaos. Finally, I see my chance.

A bandit lunges at me, his sword raised high. I sidestep the attack and grab the pouch of salt, flinging it into the bandit's face. He cries out in pain, clutching his eyes. I use the opportunity to strike, my tulwar finding its mark. The bandit falls to the ground, writhing in agony. The other bandits hesitate, their eyes filled with uncertainty. I seize the moment, shouting a battle cry and charging forward. Farid follows my lead, his sword flashing in the sun. The bandits, momentarily demoralized, begin to falter. We press our advantage, pushing them back, one by one. The fight is long and brutal, but we hold our ground. Finally, the leader of the bandits signals a retreat. They mount their horses and ride away, disappearing into the dunes.

I stand panting, my body aching, my clothes stained with blood. Farid leans heavily on his sword, his face pale with exhaustion. Rohan emerges from behind the chest, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You… you did it," he stammers. "You defeated them." I nod, my gaze sweeping across the battlefield. The immediate threat is gone, but I know this is not the end. The bandits will be back, and there will be others who seek the power of the Veil. We need to reach the temple, and we need to reach it soon. "We must keep moving," I say, my voice hoarse. "There is no time to rest."

The towering gates of the Temple of the Silent Bells loom before us, a welcome sight after the trials of the desert. Relief washes over me as we approach, the familiar architecture a stark contrast to the harsh landscape we've traversed. I can almost feel the protective aura of the temple, a sanctuary against the dangers that pursue us.

The heavy wooden gates creak open as we approach, revealing a courtyard bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. Monks in saffron robes hurry towards us, their faces etched with concern. Zohra emerges from the crowd, her eyes widening as she takes in our battered appearance.

"Aryan! Farid! You've returned!" she exclaims, rushing forward to embrace us. Her gaze falls upon Rohan, who shrinks back under her scrutiny. "And you brought him with you?"

"We retrieved the Veil," I say, gesturing towards the chest. "But the journey was… eventful."

Zohra nods, her expression grave. "I sensed a disturbance in the desert. I feared the worst." She turns to the monks, issuing rapid instructions in a language I don't understand. They hurry off, presumably to prepare a secure chamber for the Veil.

"Farid, you're injured," Zohra says, noticing the bloodstains on his clothes. "Come, let me tend to your wounds." She guides him towards the temple, her arm supporting his weight.

I linger for a moment, watching Rohan. He stands alone, isolated and ashamed. I approach him cautiously, my hand resting on the hilt of my tulwar. "You will face justice for your actions," I say, my voice cold. "But first, you will explain why you sought to unleash the power of the Veil."

Rohan avoids my gaze, his voice barely a whisper. "I… I wanted to change things. To make the world better."

"By opening a rift between realms?" I ask, incredulous. "By unleashing chaos and destruction?"

"I didn't know what would happen," he protests, his voice rising slightly. "I only knew that the world was broken. I thought the Veil could fix it."

"The Veil is not a tool for fixing the world," I say, my voice firm. "It is a source of balance. And you, Rohan, nearly destroyed that balance."

I signal to the monks, who approach and take Rohan into custody. He offers no resistance, his head bowed in defeat.

Zohra returns, her face troubled. "The Veil is secured," she says. "But its presence… it's unsettling. I can feel its power, even through the chest."

"What happens now?" I ask. "What will you do with the Veil?"

Zohra sighs, her gaze fixed on the setting sun. "That is a decision for the council of elders," she says. "But I fear… I fear that the danger is not yet over."

She looks at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and concern. "You have done well, Aryan. You have saved us all. But the forces that seek the Veil will not rest. You must be prepared for what is to come."

The council convenes in the temple's innermost chamber, a place of hushed reverence and solemn deliberation. I stand just outside the heavy oak doors, the weight of the past days pressing down on me. Zohra enters, her face tight with concern, and I know the council's decision regarding Rohan and the Veil is at hand.

Hours crawl by, marked only by the distant chanting of the monks. Farid sits beside me, quietly sharpening his blade, his movements economical and precise. His presence is a comfort, a silent reassurance in the face of the unknown. Finally, the doors creak open, and Zohra emerges, her expression unreadable.

"The council has reached its verdict," she says, her voice echoing in the stillness of the courtyard. "Rohan will be confined within the temple. His knowledge of the Veil is too dangerous to be allowed to roam free, but they also believe he can atone for his mistakes."

I nod slowly, absorbing the news. It is a harsh sentence, but perhaps a necessary one. "And the Veil?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

Zohra's gaze turns towards the sky, her eyes filled with a mix of awe and apprehension. "The council has decided that the Veil must be hidden once again," she says. "Its power is too great, its allure too tempting. It will be sealed away in a place where no one can find it, a place known only to a select few."

"Where?" I ask, my curiosity piqued.

"That is not for you to know, Aryan," Zohra says, her voice firm. "The less who know its location, the safer it will be." She pauses, then looks at me with a searching gaze. "But the council has also decided that you, Aryan, will play a role in its safekeeping. You have proven yourself trustworthy, resourceful, and brave. They believe you are worthy of a great responsibility."

My heart pounds in my chest, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through my veins. "What kind of responsibility?" I ask, my voice barely audible.

"You will be a guardian," Zohra says, her eyes locking with mine. "A protector of the secret. You will not know the Veil's final resting place, but you will be tasked with ensuring that no one ever uncovers its location."

"How?" I ask, bewildered. "How can I protect something when I don't even know where it is?"

"That is for you to discover," Zohra says, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "The path will reveal itself to you when the time is right. Trust your instincts, Aryan. Trust your heart. And know that you are not alone. Farid has also been chosen. His knowledge of the land and his… unique skills will be invaluable."