The desert sun blazed overhead, casting a golden glow across the endless dunes. Khalid and Abdul trudged through the sand, their faces streaked with sweat and their throats parched. They had been searching for food and water for hours, but the desert was unforgiving, offering little more than scorching heat and the occasional scorpion. The weight of Grandmother Khadija’s words still lingered in Khalid’s mind, a quiet storm of doubt and determination.

  As they crossed a dune, Khalid spotted something unusual in the distance—a figure dressed in flowing white robes, standing motionless against the backdrop of the desert. The man’s wide-brimmed hat shaded his face, and his posture was relaxed, as if he were waiting for them.

  “Do you see that?” Khalid asked, squinting against the sun.

  Abdul followed his gaze and frowned. “Who is that? And what’s he doing out here?”

  The boys approached cautiously, their hands instinctively reaching for the daggers Zain had given them. As they drew closer, they could see that the man was old, his face lined with age but his eyes sharp and full of life. He was leaning on a long, curved sword, its blade gleaming in the sunlight. When he noticed the boys, he broke into a wide grin, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth.

  “Well, well,” the old man said, his voice rich and full of humor. “What do we have here? Two little desert rats, lost and thirsty, no doubt.”

  Khalid bristled at the comment. “We’re not lost. And who are you?”

  The old man chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to echo across the dunes. “Who am I? That’s a question with many answers, young one. But for now, you can call me Ustadh Malik. Or just Malik, if you prefer. I’m not one for formalities.”

  Abdul eyed him warily. “What are you doing out here, Malik? This isn’t exactly a place for… tourists.”

  Malik laughed again, throwing his head back. “Tourists! Oh, I like you, boy. Sharp tongue, sharp mind. But to answer your question, I’m here because the desert called to me. And because I had a feeling I’d find something interesting today.” He winked at Khalid. “And it seems I was right.”

  Khalid crossed his arms, his curiosity piqued despite himself. “And what’s so interesting about us?”

  Malik’s grin widened. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fire in your eyes, or the way you carry yourselves like you own the desert. Or maybe it’s the fact that you’re the first person in years to look at me like I’m the one who’s out of place.”

  Khalid couldn’t help but smile, though he tried to hide it. “You’re a strange old man, you know that?”

  “Strange? Me?” Malik placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “I prefer ‘eccentric.’ But enough about me. Tell me, what brings two young boys out into the desert, armed with daggers and looking like they’ve seen better days?”

  Khalid hesitated, then decided there was no harm in telling the truth. “We’re from Qazi Village. We’re searching for food and water. Our people are suffering, and we’re trying to help.”

  Malik’s expression softened, and for a moment, the humor in his eyes was replaced by something deeper—something like respect. “Qazi Village, you say? Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.” He studied Khalid carefully, his gaze piercing. “And you? What’s your name, boy?”

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  “I’m Khalid. And this is Abdul.”

  Malik nodded slowly, as if committing their names to memory. “Khalid and Abdul. Two boys from a forgotten village, trying to save their people. Admirable. Foolish, but admirable.”

  Khalid’s eyes narrowed. “Foolish? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Malik shrugged, his grin returning. “It means you’re biting off more than you can chew. But then again, that’s how legends are made, isn’t it?” He leaned on his sword, his tone turning serious. “Tell me, Khalid. Why do you care so much about your people? What drives you?”

  Khalid didn’t hesitate. “Because they’re my family. Because no one else will stand up for them. And because… because I believe we can be more than this. More than a forgotten village, more than victims. We were once great, and I want to bring that back.”

  Malik was silent for a long moment, his eyes searching Khalid’s face. Then, to the boys’ surprise, he burst out laughing. “By the One True God, you’re something else, boy! You’ve got fire in your belly and steel in your spine. I like that.”

  Abdul raised an eyebrow. “The One True God? What’s that?”

  Malik’s laughter faded, and he looked at them with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “You mean you don’t know? Has no one told you about the beliefs of the Qazi Clan?”

  Khalid and Abdul exchanged confused glances. “We know about the Yahawas Cult,” Khalid said slowly. “But not much else.”

  Malik sighed, shaking his head. “Ah, youth. So much to learn, so little time. Sit down, boys. Let me tell you a story.”

  The boys sat in the sand, and Malik began to speak. He told them of the Qazi Clan’s ancient beliefs—of the One True God, the creator of all things, who had given the Qazi Clan their strength and their purpose. He spoke of the balance between light and darkness, of the eternal struggle between good and evil, and of the Qazi Clan’s role as protectors of the weak and defenders of justice.

  “The Yahawas Cult,” Malik said, his voice growing somber, “is a perversion of this balance. They worship darkness and chaos, and they seek to destroy everything the One True God has created. But the Qazi Clan stood against them, not just with swords, but with faith and unity. That’s why they were victorious.”

  Khalid listened intently, his heart swelling with pride. “And what happened to that faith? Why did we lose it?”

  Malik’s expression darkened. “Time, boy. Time and greed. The world changed, and the Qazi Clan forgot their purpose. But perhaps…” He looked at Khalid, his eyes gleaming. “Perhaps it’s not too late to remind them.”

  Khalid felt a surge of determination. “Then teach me. Teach me how to be a warrior, how to lead, how to bring back the Qazi Clan’s glory.”

  Malik raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, so now you want my help? What happened to ‘strange old man’?”

  Khalid grinned. “You’re still strange. But you’re also the only one who seems to know what you’re talking about.”

  Malik laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed across the dunes. “Fair enough, boy. Fair enough. Very well, I’ll teach you. But be warned—I’m not an easy teacher. And I don’t suffer fools lightly.”

  Abdul, who had been silent, spoke up. “What about me? Will you teach me too?”

  Malik looked at him, his expression softening. “Of course, boy. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Together, you and Khalid might just change the world.”

  As the sun dipped below the horizon, Malik began to share more about his past. “I’ve seen the rise and fall of many clans and kingdoms,” he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “I was once a soldier for the Barshian king, during the war with Kaeltharion. It was a brutal conflict, but in the end, a peace treaty was signed, and the two nations became allies. After that, I left Barshia and lived in Draktharion for many years.”

  Khalid’s eyes widened. “Draktharion? That’s a neighboring nation, isn’t it?”

  Malik nodded. “Indeed. But the desert always called to me. There’s something about the vastness, the silence, the way it makes you feel small yet connected to something greater. So, I returned. And now, here I am.”

  Khalid and Abdul exchanged glances, their minds racing with questions. But Malik’s cryptic answers only deepened the mystery. As they made their way back to the village, they couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Malik than met the eye.