The light began to fade slowly, as if a curtain of mist were drawing back to reveal what lay beyond. Aws's eyelids trembled at first, then moved with heavy reluctance, like one awakening from a burdensome dream, until his eyes finally opened.
Before him stretched a sight he had never seen: a coastal city, its streets unfurling along the edge of a sunlit sea, brimming with life. Laughter rang pure in the air—nothing like the forced or poisoned laughter he had grown accustomed to in his own city, choked with fumes and smoke.
The sea breeze filled his lungs deeply, flooding his chest with a freshness he had not tasted in years. There was no trace of car exhaust or the chemical stench of factories that had clung to him in his old world. He found himself standing in the middle of a narrow passage through a bustling market, the ground paved with old, smooth wood worn down by countless footsteps. On either side, vendors manned their stalls with open, welcoming faces, their eyes glinting with contentment, their hands extended in greeting before they even spoke of trade. Each seemed satisfied with his lot, without greed for another's wealth or schemes to deceive.
In this city, harmony was the air itself. People exchanged blessings and kind words as easily as they exchanged goods. Women wore modest garments that revealed only what the Creator had allowed to be shown, while men lowered their gaze with dignity and respect—no furtive glances, no lewd remarks. Aws remembered his old world, where clothing clung more to the body's shape than to the principle of covering it, and where modesty had become a rare commodity. Relief washed over him, as though a weight had been lifted from his heart.
He walked on slowly, his eyes roaming over faces, shopfronts laden with fresh fruit and steaming bread, the scent of coffee and spices mingling with the breath of the sea. At the edge of the market, a young man stepped out from a house, dressed neatly and holding a book to his chest as if it were a priceless treasure. Before he left, the household pressed a few coins into his hand with warm thanks. He answered with a sincere smile and continued on his way.
But then, it struck again—that same heavy sensation Aws had felt once before. The air thickened, the sounds around him faded, swallowed by a high, piercing wail. It was a cry of grief and terror, pouring from the very house the young man had just left. Aws turned sharply and saw an otherworldly sight: an invisible dome encircled the youth, while shadowy black shapes with blood-red eyes clawed at it, trying to break through. Their shrieks tore at the air, but the moment they touched the barrier, they dissolved into drifting black ash.
At that instant, Aws noticed a girl standing a short distance away. She was trembling, her hands pressed over her ears, her eyes wide with shock. She, too, had heard the same terrifying cries—just as he had—as though the two of them stood inside some hidden storm that the rest of the market could not perceive.
And then, just as suddenly, the episode was gone. Sunlight returned, the calls of vendors rose again, and the sea's murmur filled the air. Aws's heart slowed to its normal rhythm. He lifted his head—and for the first time, his gaze met hers. Her eyes were the soft gold of a narcissus blossom, her wavy brown hair falling to her shoulders. She seemed close to his age, yet utterly unfamiliar—not from his dreams, nor from any waking memory.
Silence hung between them until the young man with the book approached at an unhurried pace. He placed a gentle hand on Aws's back, then turned slightly toward the girl—but without raising his eyes, as though it were no more than a gesture of courtesy. In a calm voice, he said:
"Peace from the Almighty be upon you both, and upon the people of this city… May I have a word with you?"
Aws glanced at the girl and saw silent assent in her eyes. He answered for them both: "Yes." And so, they walked together—first through the market's lively lanes, then up a path that climbed toward a mountain overlooking the sea.
The mountain road was paved with stone, flanked by swaying pine trees stirred by the ocean breeze. The ascent was tiring, yet the view unfolding with every step was worth the effort. They passed a vendor sitting beneath an olive tree, offering chilled slices of watermelon on a brass tray, while barefoot children darted between the rocks nearby, laughing and singing. Further along, they passed a group of fishermen repairing their nets, one of them telling a joke that sent them all into hearty laughter.
With each step, Aws's curiosity deepened—about the city, and about the enigmatic young man leading them. Yet what unsettled him most was the realization that the girl shared his curiosity and his confusion, as if they were both caught in the same strange journey without knowing how it began or where it would end.
At last, they reached a small square atop the mountain, open to the vast expanse of sea. The horizon shimmered under the sun, waves shattering into white foam against the rocks below. Aws and the girl sat on a wooden bench, while the young man headed toward a small café at the square's edge.
He returned minutes later carrying three glasses of iced drink, beads of condensation gathering on the glass, a fresh citrus scent rising from them. He set them down before taking a seat, then said with a quiet smile:
"I am Hilal."
"I'm Aws," said Aws.
"And I am Shams," the girl replied.
Hilal's smile deepened.
"My friends, it seems neither of you are from this city—nor do you know anything about it."
Aws asked in surprise, "How could you tell? Was it our appearance?"
Hilal shook his head. "Yes… and more than that."
Shams interjected, "I've noticed this city has a strange kind of atmosphere. Here, I've felt a deep comfort… and from you as well."
Hilal nodded in agreement, then turned his gaze toward the sea.
"The reason is…"