Your heartbeat quickens, and you do not know why. How could it not? He is coming for you.
You are the one who kept knocking upon the door of evil until, at last, it opened. So be a man now, and bear the consequences of your own deeds.
For the one before whom the hounds bowed is feared and revered. Not merely a man—if he was ever human at all.
The bitter truth is that no one knows what he truly looks like. Every legend tells a different tale. Some claim he is immortal. Others say he is one of the ancient soldiers who walked the Earth before mankind was ever formed.
Yet on one thing they all agree:
His name is Jacquard Smarda.
Death circles around him, while life itself dares not come near. A mighty trial has befallen humanity, and he is the second greatest tribulation upon this earth after the Antichrist.
He gently strokes the dogs with a touch of light, then unleashes words like a nuclear blast that shakes the entire forest. His voice carries a trembling force powerful enough to make mountains shudder.
"The gates of Hell have opened, and its soldiers have gone forth in search of those who escaped it. They will never find them until they find the heart of the forest. That is why I entrust you with guarding it."
He spoke.
"But now, I shall go in search of Abdul Karim bin Ahmed. I have an offer for him."
He spoke again.
"Or perhaps a sentence of death."
He said to himself, followed by a laugh so cruel it seemed born from darkness itself.
With mighty strides he shakes the earth beneath his feet, scorching the soil of the forest with infernal lava, as though he had plunged into Hell itself and emerged unburned.
And you cannot help but wonder:
What is this creature?
He walks away from the dogs, and away from us, while we stand like fools—watching a thief plunder our home while doing nothing to stop him.
Yet there is something good hidden behind all of this.
You will learn it later.
But for now, stop thinking of that.
Think instead of how you will escape this cursed place—a place that traps your heart, tears it from your chest without warning, and casts it into that well beside the heart of the forest.
And I assure you, dear reader, if that happens, then you have traded the eternal life to indulge in this fleeting one like kings... only to stand among the first regiment that opens the gates of Hell.
Step by step, a journey draws near.
Or perhaps the end approaches the beginning.
The scent of weeping roses drifts through the forest—perhaps a thread of hope, or perhaps the first signs of a holy war rising on the horizon.
A cook, seasoned with bloody spices, tends a blazing oven built from human bones and skulls, paved with stone and sealed with blood-red mortar.
And there you wait your turn to receive your daily meal from the hands of the Evil Sultan's cook.
The same cook who once served delicious dishes to those among us who delighted in speaking of other people's flaws.
To those who took upon themselves the mission of Satan's faithful messenger, adopting a new constitution founded upon spying, gossip, and discord—the poisons that have devoured our souls.
In that place, there is no room for hypocrisy.
No room for masks.
Your fate is trapped between the hammer of death and the anvil of immortality.
So sit down.
Remain in your place.
Enjoy your wooden chair carved from the cursed tree of Zaqqum, with its soft cushion stuffed with burning embers that scorch your flesh.
There, the supreme ego is slain... or forced to surrender to reality.
Everyone sits in silence.
Calmly.
Reasonably.
In a place where arrogance, vanity, and childish pride have no place.
Here, truth is laid bare.
No deception remains.
None of the twisted qualities of malicious mankind survive.
It is a circular chamber, almost like a cafeteria—except it has no ceiling.
If you raise your head, you will see stars hanging above every person.
And sometimes, from those stars, a white thread descends.
It wraps around a neck.
Then lifts its victim into the air.
One by one.
All of them.
Except for one young man.
He appears to be in his mid-twenties.
Tall.
Broad-chested.
Strong, masculine, powerfully built.
Hazel eyes.
A small nose.
A wide forehead.
Long, smooth black hair.
And a beard slightly thick, resembling that of the Salafi brothers among Muslims.
Why was he spared from hanging?
And what is this place?
With steady steps, he rises without speaking a word.
He does not look at the suspended bodies.
Instead, he turns toward a powerful light standing before him.
When he reaches it, he says:
"Peace, mercy, and blessings of Allah be upon you."
The light does not answer.
Instead, it strikes him with a transparent white sword forged of diamonds and rubies.
Abdul Karim bin Ahmed falls lifeless to the ground.
"You have been freed from your sins in this life. You will thank me later."
So said the mysterious light.
Then it spread its wings.
With a single blow, it shattered the entire place into ruins.
Only the body of Abdul Karim remained, lying motionless upon the ground.