Where is Manar?
Book One: The Twin Star
Chapter 14: The Night Before the Dawn
—
Damn that sewer frog. He's dragged me into something truly disturbing.
First of all — based on Dajja's power alone, he wouldn't even get scratched if hit by an RPG. God knows about Siraj and the rest of the group.
And he fed me some shit wrapped in a history lesson just to convince me of this circus. Damn! The hair on my ass is still standing from the moment I lost control and opened fire.
Now, based on my understanding of Dajja — the man makes Scrooge look generous. For him to give me an extra dose without negotiation is like politicians promising reform.
So, according to my understanding of Dajja's character, I've got three points:
First: Dajja and his group can't enter the place we're heading to. The reason is unclear.
Second: Whether I get the treasure or not, Dajja has no fear of me using it against him. Either what he said about its power is a lie, or it's like a knife in a frog's hand — nothing to fear.
Third: I don't think Dajja and his group's power comes from something as simple as a dose. Is the world really this simple? Drink a soda and turn into Superman? That's stupid. So this whole circus has been running since we reached Babylon.
Based on these three points, there's only one conclusion: I'm just a number to complete the headcount. Whether I get the treasure or not, they'll make sure to silence me after the mission. And from what I've seen of his terrifying power, I don't stand a chance against him. I have only one solution: I need to escape.
But how?
Dogs are faster than humans. I know they call me a dog — but I'm a metaphorical dog. He's a real one. I need to find an opportunity to escape when they don't have time to watch me.
The best thing I did was ask for the second dose — to make them less suspicious that I'm planning to escape. Based on their knowledge of my relationship with Sami, they'll think I'm asking for him.
As for Dajja going after Sami — I'm afraid Sami won't let it go if I disappear. The only solution is to escape and find a Van Helsing¹ for help.
Looks like I won't make it to our meeting, brother.
Well. First, I need to escape. Then try to understand the situation I'm in. Then Dajja won't be able to kill me as easily as he could now. And I'll have a chance to win when our paths cross in the future.
—
The convoy continued until the ruins of ancient civilization appeared. Night began to settle over this historic city.
"Maytham. Get ready. We're counting on you for this mission."
"Ready."
"Good. See those ancient ruins?" Dajja pointed into the distance.
"I can't see anything."
"Try using these." Dajja handed him binoculars.
"I see an old building."
"That's the Temple of Ninmakh. Your destination."
"My destination? Damn." Maytham finally understood — escape was impossible. They'd be watching from here.
"This is as far as we can go. You're the only one in our group who can pass through and enter that area."
"Dajja, stop playing games. Tell me why I'm going alone and what I'm supposed to do there." Maytham was genuinely confused now.
"Good dog. You should have been paying attention from the start. Come on, let's get out. I'll show you what's happening." Dajja stepped out of the car.
The three of them got out after Maytham prepared his vest and weapons. The other men from the other cars got out too. But strangely — none of them prepared anything. No vests. No weapons.
"Come here, little pup. I'll show you something interesting." Dajja noticed Maytham's confusion. He walked past the first car and moved forward a few steps.
GRRRRRR... RAAAAAWR!
Dajja transformed into a werewolf about three meters tall. Terrifying. His clothes tore. His shirt fell.
He stepped back, then roared — a roar that shook the earth. His massive, hairy fist grew to the size of a volcanic rock. He lunged with his full weight, striking the empty space. But his hand didn't pierce the air. It slammed into an invisible wall. Solid as diamond. Impenetrable as truth.
At the moment of impact, transparent energy waves rippled outward, shaking dust for miles. Maytham heard a sharp magnetic hum that nearly burst his eardrums. The barrier didn't move an inch. The force of the punch rebounded onto Dajja himself. If not for his massive size and deep roots in the ground, he would have flown back and smashed into the cars.
Dajja canceled his transformation and returned to normal. When he placed his ordinary hand forward, it couldn't pass either.
"Now do you see? This barrier was placed by angels two thousand six hundred years ago. No Transcended or contracted sorcerer can cross it. The only ones who can are ordinary humans like you — or the Believers. And as you know, the only Believer we know is the Elegant One in Jadriya.** I doubt he's ready to leave his palaces and his duties caring for widows and divorcees to come here. So you're our only option. Just bring the treasure and hand it over. Two doses are yours."
"So what is this treasure exactly? And how will I recognize it in all that rubble?"
"Honestly? No one knows its exact form. It's an artifact — could manifest as anything. An old clay jar. A small statue. Maybe a rusty necklace. But what's certain is that it lies deep in the well inside the Temple of Ninmakh. The moment your eyes fall on it, you'll be drawn to it against your will. That's the nature of mysterious artifacts. They have a magnetism that strikes the strings of the soul."
"Great. I'm going to search for something I don't know, in a cursed well. Damn, man. This isn't a job. This is premium-grade annoyance." Maytham smirked.
"All mysterious things scream to be seen. And in exchange for this annoyance, you'll get two magical doses. Two doses that, if you spent your whole life as a mercenary in wars, you couldn't dream of a single drop." Dajja's eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses.
"Okay... Seems fair. When do I leave?" Maytham nodded slowly.
"You leave at the Maghrib call to prayer. That's the time to go. Munaf — bring the tools." Dajja gestured to a man around thirty. Square beard on his chin only. Shaved head. A claw tattoo on his neck. Same uniform as the group. About two meters tall.
"It's your day, man. Don't miss the opportunity. Hahaha." Munaf put his hand on Maytham's neck and handed him climbing gear and rope.
"Tsk... Your armpit really stinks." Maytham pushed his hand away.
"You foul-mouthed little brat." Munaf was annoyed.
"Yeah, I know. Hey, helmet-head." Maytham pointed at his bald head.
"Son of a shoe. Watch your step in the future."
"Enough playing. Get ready. Maytham — you leave in one minute. Remember, your mission will be difficult. You'll likely face a fierce battle at the temple. Don't lower your guard." Dajja separated them. He'd put his sunglasses back on — for effect and leadership charisma.
"I know. But Dajja — why are you wearing sunglasses? It's dark out."
"Damn you, you annoying dog. Go before I kill you."
"Don't get angry, man. Not good for your health." Maytham headed toward the temple, leaving the group behind.
"Wearing sunglasses at night. The bearded frog. Does he want to look mysterious like in the movies?"
"Son of a shoe. I can still hear you." Maytham heard Dajja shouting from a distance.
"Tsk... Forgot he's a dog. His hearing must reach far. Now let's go see what I'm supposed to do."
—
"So, Dajja. I can have fun with him when he comes back, right? You don't mind?" Munaf gestured toward Maytham as he walked away.
"He's yours. But we don't have much time. The leader doesn't joke. I hope you finish it quickly." Dajja returned to the car and opened the back door.
Inside was an old wooden chest. Carved with symbols, numbers, squares, and circles. Wrapped in rusted metal chains inscribed with writings that glowed with a bloody light.
Electric sparks emanated from the carvings. Runic words passed through the symbols as if traveling from one to another — forming a chain of laws sealing whatever was inside.
"Form a circle. We're releasing the abomination." Dajja carried the heavy chest — about a meter square, seventy centimeters high.
Dajja's group transformed into werewolves. The shortest among them stood two and a half meters tall — like warships. They began drawing a magical circle on the ground. Dripped blood from self-inflicted wounds. Filled the Syriac letters. Then placed the chest in the center.
They gathered around and began dancing, murmuring strange words. Weird carvings appeared on their bodies. The letters inside the magical circle began to glow. Turned to fire — the chest at its center. Then they beat drums they'd prepared earlier, chanting strange songs.
Boom ba-boom ba-boom boom-boom.
Hmm ooooh haaah hmm ooooh haaah.
FWOOSHHHHH!
Suddenly, fire exploded twenty meters high. It transformed into a totem — shaping itself into a giant wolf made of flame. The fire wolf attacked the chest violently until the magical Syriac letters on it began to crack.
BOOM boom-boom BOOM!
The chest exploded. From within emerged a wet, fleshy mass — writhing like a thousand snakes. Eyes without lids burst open, staring hungrily. Tentacles covered in tiny teeth sprang out and attacked the fire wolf. They didn't burn. They absorbed the flame like a sponge.
The giant fire wolf and the tentacled abomination fought with earth-shattering ferocity. Dajja and his group retreated quickly to avoid being crushed by giant feet.
But the balance shifted rapidly toward the abomination. With each passing moment, new tentacles armed with sharp teeth emerged — until they surrounded the wolf like an octopus gripping its prey.
It didn't end there. The tentacle tips began merging together, forming a cage of living flesh that tightened around the fire wolf. Then they moved like a merciless spinning saw, cutting the wolf apart in seconds.
The sight of flesh devouring flame was stomach-churning. The mass began peeling and reshaping — shrinking and expanding in rapid spirals — until from its center emerged a delicate human hand. Then the face of a breathtakingly beautiful woman. But beauty wrapped in the scent of graves.
The massive fleshy mass retreated inward, as if a black hole was absorbing that horror and transforming it into overwhelming femininity. A girl's body emerged from the ashes — pale as the moon, her black hair flowing behind her like a waterfall of enchanted ink.
She stood in the center of the werewolf circle. They'd instinctively retreated. Her wide black eyes held no human spark — they were like two deep wells of darkness. She wrapped a strand of her long hair around her finger. A small, sticky fleshy tentacle emerged from her back, caught the robe Dajja threw with astonishing lightness, then disappeared back into her spine as if her skin had swallowed it.
She looked at Dajja with a cold smile that made the fur on his neck stand in terror. Her voice sounded like the rustle of snakes on sand:
"Hunger is ancient, Dajja... And keeping contracts is bitter — like the taste of your blood."
As she spoke, a cold chill ran through the bones of everyone present. They began retreating cautiously. Their fur stood on end with primal instinct. Their claws emerged like daggers from sheaths — ready for an attack no one dared to start.
"Crazy bitch..." Dajja muttered, trying to compose himself. Then he continued in a dry tone: "Listen. I don't care what you whisper to yourself or what your filthy stomach devours. What I care about is that you don't forget the contract binding us."
"Tsk... What a bunch of cowards!" The girl replied with biting sarcasm. "The contract ends with the first light of sunrise. I truly hope we can exchange words after that... As for you, fat one — I'll carve your features into my memory. Pray that our paths never cross again."
"Yeah, yeah. I know. You're not the first to threaten me, and you won't be the last. Anyway, you're under our care and protection until morning." Dajja pretended to be calm.
Then he turned to his men and roared in a voice that shook the place: "And you dogs — get ready! We're moving with this lovely sister. I don't want any stupid moves that compromise the mission. Is that clear?"
"Yes, chief!" The wolves replied in one voice that filled the horizon.
"Alright, move, you bastards. The party's started."
OOOOOOH!
The pack howled and charged after Dajja — a terrifying group. The woman ran with them, no slower. In fact, she led the pack, running ahead of Dajja.
— End of Chapter 14 —
—
Author's Notes:
¹ Van Helsing:
The legendary monster hunter from Bram Stoker's Dracula.
** The Elegant One in Jadriya:
Dajja's sarcastic title for a certain religious figure who wraps corruption in the cloak of piety — too busy enjoying his palaces and "caring for widows" to do any actual holy work. Every country has one.