The boys returned to Qazi Village as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the desert. The air was cool, and the faint scent of smoke from cooking fires wafted through the village. Khalid and Abdul were exhausted but buzzing with excitement. They had so much to tell Grandmother Khadija about Malik and his mysterious past.

  As they approached their small home, they found Grandmother Khadija sitting by the fire, her hands busy mending a torn cloak. Her face lit up with a smile as she saw them approach. “There you are,” she said, her voice warm but tinged with exhaustion. “I was beginning to worry.”

  Khalid and Abdul sat down beside her, their faces flushed from the day’s events. “We met someone today,” Khalid began, his voice filled with excitement. “An old man named Malik. He knows so much about the Qazi Clan, Grandmother. He taught us about the One True God and the balance between light and darkness.”

  Grandmother Khadija’s hands stilled, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Malik, you say? What else did he tell you?”

  Abdul leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “He said he was a soldier for the Barshian king during the war with Kaeltharion. After the peace treaty, he left Barshia and lived in Draktharion for many years. But he came back because he missed the desert. He said something was calling him here.”

  Grandmother Khadija’s eyes darkened, and she set aside her mending. Her expression was unreadable, but Khalid could sense a flicker of suspicion in her gaze. “An old soldier, you say? One who knows the ways of the Qazi Clan and speaks of the One True God?”

  Khalid nodded, his excitement tempered by her reaction. “Yes. He’s going to teach us, Grandmother. He said we could bring back the glory of the Qazi Clan.”

  Grandmother Khadija was silent for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the fire. Finally, she spoke, her voice low and measured. “This Malik… did he say anything else about his past? Anything about the Qazi Clan?”

  Khalid hesitated, trying to recall Malik’s words. “Not directly. But he spoke as if he had seen the fall of the clan. He said time and greed were their downfall.”

  Grandmother Khadija’s eyes narrowed further, and she leaned back, her expression thoughtful. “An old soldier who knows the history of the Qazi Clan, who speaks of the One True God, and who claims to have witnessed the fall of our people…” She trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper. “It cannot be.”

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  Khalid and Abdul exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued. “What do you mean, Grandmother?” Khalid asked.

  She looked at them, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and suspicion. “There were rumors, long ago, of a high-ranking Qazi warrior who disappeared after the clan’s fall. Some said he died in battle. Others claimed he fled, unable to bear the shame of what had become of his people. But if this Malik is who I think he is…”

  Her voice trailed off again, and she shook her head. “No, it cannot be. And yet…”

  Khalid’s heart raced. “You think Malik might have been a Qazi warrior? One of the great ones from the glory days?”

  Grandmother Khadija’s expression was grave. “I do not know, my boy. But if he is, then he carries with him the knowledge and strength of our ancestors. And if he is willing to teach you, then you must learn all you can from him.”

  Abdul frowned, his practical mind struggling to reconcile her words. “But why would he hide his identity? If he was a Qazi warrior, why not tell us?”

  Grandmother Khadija’s gaze softened, and she reached out to place a hand on Abdul’s shoulder. “The fall of the Qazi Clan was a dark time, Abdul. Many who survived carried the weight of guilt and shame. If Malik is who I suspect he is, then he may be trying to atone for his past. Or perhaps he is testing you, to see if you are worthy of the knowledge he holds.”

  Khalid’s mind raced with possibilities. If Malik was indeed a high-ranking Qazi warrior, then his teachings could be the key to restoring the clan’s glory. But there was also a sense of unease, a feeling that Malik’s past was more complicated than he let on.

  “What should we do, Grandmother?” Khalid asked, his voice filled with determination.

  She looked at him, her eyes filled with a quiet strength. “Learn from him, Khalid. But be cautious. Trust is a precious thing, and it should not be given lightly. Watch him closely. Listen to his words, but also to what he does not say. And if he is indeed one of us, then perhaps he will reveal the truth in time.”

  Khalid nodded, his resolve hardening. He would learn from Malik, but he would also keep his eyes open. There was more to the old man than met the eye, and Khalid was determined to uncover the truth.

  As the fire crackled and the night deepened, Grandmother Khadija’s words lingered in Khalid’s mind. He thought of Malik’s cryptic hints, his knowledge of the Qazi Clan, and his mysterious past. Was he truly a high-ranking warrior from the glory days? And if so, what had driven him to return to the desert after all these years?

  Khalid didn’t have the answers, but he knew one thing for certain—he would not let this opportunity slip away. Malik’s teachings could be the key to saving his people, and he would do whatever it took to learn from him.

  But as he lay down to sleep that night, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered a warning. Trust is a precious thing, Khalid. And not everyone who offers you the world has your best interests at heart.