Ronald walked through the dark prison corridor, illuminated only by a few lanterns that cast faint light. He saw people hanging in the corridor as if they were decorative statues.
Ronald glanced at them coldly, then averted his gaze as if he knew his fate would end like theirs. The men of Baba Raga accompanied him from behind without mistreating him or overstepping their boundaries, for they knew that beneath this calm and human suffering lay a darkness and a demon that would pounce upon the world and turn it into a massacre.
Ronald moved forward with ordinary steps, unhurried, staring at the ceiling as if seeing his place in Paradise or begging God for mercy to change his abode from Hell to Paradise. No one knew what words were written in his heart, or what turmoil his mind and thoughts were experiencing regarding the bleak fate awaiting him… Does what is happening to him deserve it? Is cosmic justice this harsh? We all make mistakes—we are human, after all. Therefore, what is happening to me cannot be solely due to sins and disobedience, nor can it be for religious reasons. Despite my distance from my Lord, I believe in Him.
I raised my head again as a final attempt to gain the attention of my Lord who created me, saying:
"My Lord, I never thought I would return to You and knock on Your door in this state."
Then one of the Baba Raga men replied to him:
"The doors of the Lord are always open to His servants and never close, except at death or when the sun rises from the west."
I replied to him, questioning:
"How do you know this?"
He answered me:
"It is mentioned in the religion of the descendants of Prophet Ishmael. There is a prophet from your lineage, known as the Unlettered Prophet, who knows things that are unbelievable for someone who did not learn to read or write."
The deep religious philosophy penetrated Ronald's mind and took root in his thoughts. Even his demon refused to intervene and prevented him from changing for the better, for it knew that human nature is inherently inclined toward worship and supplication to God. But it was too late for piety and drawing closer to the Creator—he had reached the final stage of his life. He entered a large hall.
There, he found a hundred members waiting for him in a circular formation. When he saw this, he felt a sense of pride for the first time, saying :
"All of this is for me! Did you see, my friend? All of them are here for us."
Then he lowered his head and continued walking, saying :
"Oh, I forgot… you won't speak to me, not even until the very end."
Then, one of the Baba Raga men spoke:
"Ronald, were you talking to me?"
He replied :
"No, I was talking to myself."
Ronald continued walking with steady steps until he reached the center of the hall. From the crowd, a tall man wearing a purple robe stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with ancient wisdom.
The man began to speak in a resonant voice that filled the hall:
"Everyone, fate has gathered us here today for a great purpose. Ronald is not just an ordinary man—he is the key with which we will open the Eight Gates. His blood carries the power of our ancestors, and his ability to endure is what will ensure the success of the ritual."
The man pointed to the inscriptions on the walls, which had begun to glow with a faint golden light:
"As you can see, the sacred inscriptions are responding to our presence. When Ronald's blood mixes with these inscriptions, the Eight Gates will open one after another, and we will be able to reclaim the lost power of our forebears."
He turned to Ronald:
"You, Ronald, will enter history not as a victim, but as a hero who contributed to the revival of our world. You may not understand now, but your sacrifice will ensure a better future for everyone."
The inscriptions began to glow more intensely, and the air in the hall became charged with a strange energy. Ronald stood at the center, ready for his fate, as the members began to chant ancient words in a forgotten language.
Ronald stood at the center of the circle, his eyes closed as the chants rose around him. He felt his blood flowing differently, as if an ancient power was awakening in his veins. He opened his eyes to see the golden inscriptions gleaming brightly, then whispered his final words:
"I hope my sacrifice will be an atonement for all my wrongs…"
At that moment, light erupted through the hall, and the eight gates seemed to stir to life for the first time in centuries…