While I was sinking into a heavy sleep — as if my body were searching for temporary oblivion,
The sound of my phone tore through the darkness like an axe splitting a dead wall.
It didn't ring long. One tone was enough.
I looked at the screen.
SHOUTNA.
The name alone made the night even more silent.
"Come to the factory."
His voice was cold… the kind of cold that expects no questions.
I replied:
"I'm coming."
*******
The city felt dead.
Empty streets, shuttered windows, the wind dragging pieces of our souls along with it.
And as I approached the factory,
the voice reached me before the door did.
ZARYOUH.
Screaming with a rage that shook the metal:
"You're the one who leaked information about us?! YOU?!"
I pushed the door open.
ZARYOUH was standing like a volcano ready to erupt,
while SHOUTNA sat in front of him with a quietness resembling an ocean before a hurricane.
The others were gathered around, their tense breaths and eyes stretched tight.
I asked, trying to understand the scene:
"What's going on?"
SHOUTNA lifted his head.
Straight. Firm.
Without hesitation.
"Since everyone is here… I'll say it directly."
No emotion in his voice.
No apology.
No defense.
"Yes. I'm the one who leaked information about our location to The Hidden Sector."
The silence that followed…
was the silence of betrayal.
Heavy as the edge of a blade.
ADEL — the one who had known SHOUTNA the longest — was the first to break it.
"What are you really planning, SHOUTNA? This isn't risk… this is suicide."
SHOUTNA smiled, a smile that never reached his eyes:
"I'm going to gamble… or let's call it a final wager."
He continued, as if commenting on a battlefield map:
"The Hounds weren't able to gather enough intel on the Organization,
and my informant in the intelligence service detected suspicious movements… then disappeared."
His voice sharpened:
"The file I leaked doesn't contain our real address,
but it's enough to fool the Organization into thinking they've found a thread."
"You want to flip the table on them!" ADEL interrupted, eyes gleaming.
"Instead of hunting them… you make them come to us!"
I said quietly, standing in the shadows like part of the darkness:
"No… he wants us to be the bait,
while the Hounds hunt the hunters."
Everyone looked toward him —
seeing in SHOUTNA's eyes a deeper understanding of the truth.
"Exactly as MOHITO and ADEL said…" SHOUTNA continued,
"We'll steal the surprise factor from the Organization,
and turn their hunt into a trap we design ourselves."
"Our only advantage… is that we know how they think."
"They'll send an elite hunting squad here…
and we'll be ready to greet them — in our way."
SHOUTNA rose to his feet.
"The chaos will create an opening…
one that the Hounds will use to surround their headquarters."
Our gazes shifted —
from doubt to challenge,
from fear to a will to fight.
AYOUB asked:
"And where do we strike them?"
SHOUTNA turned to him:
"In the neighboring country of TZARIA
A neutral pole nation drowning in corruption —
Their infiltration and experiments there were far too easy…"
He continued firmly:
"The base in TZARIA is only a branch —
But it's the doorway that will lead us to the Organization's heart."
SHOUTNA approached the table, dividing the plan like a chessboard:
"Group One: MOHITO, SOLIMON, OBASO — you head to TZARIA tomorrow.
There, you'll coordinate with the Hounds to strike the branch headquarters."
"Group Two: ZARYOUH, TAHARA, AYOUB — you intercept the elite unit."
"Group Three: ME and MEZIANI — we'll be the shadow protecting you from behind."
"Group Four: ADEL — our sleepless eye.
You'll monitor all airports and ports,
and you'll be the thread tying the whole operation together.
MESNAS AND ZAKI — you protect him."
"Is the plan clear?"
We all nodded —
as if our hands had been placed over our hearts in oath.
"Remember… the intel is priceless.
Try to capture them alive."
All I thought while listening to SHOUTNA's plan was:
This day arrived too fast…
The day we must face our past again.
And I whispered to myself:
"Tomorrow… we open the first door in The Hidden Sector's labyrinth —
not as victims this time…
but as hunters who know the true prey lies deeper inside."
*******
We left the factory in silence, anticipation filling the air.
The empty street looked like a corridor between two worlds.
I heard a call from behind —
a voice I never fail to recognize.
I turned. "What is it, SOLIMON?"
He approached with steady, calculated steps.
"Let's walk home together."
I walked beside HIM as usual.
The air was cold.
And words were colder.
After long minutes, he spoke in his calm voice —
a voice that never provokes the soul:
"I knew this day would come."
I didn't turn toward him.
The words stuck in my throat.
"So did I," I answered.
"But I didn't expect it to come this soon," he added, pacing more slowly…
then muttered, almost without meaning to:
"Maybe I've gotten used to this life."
Silence.
I had no proper response.
So, I just kept walking.
He resumed:
"I wished… we were more prepared."
I gave a smile that wasn't a smile.
"No one prepares to face himself."
He stopped briefly,
looked at me as if seeing behind my face, not at it.
"Are you afraid?"
I knew why he feared —
He feared feeling loss again, not losing himself.
I didn't deny.
Nor pretend bravery.
"I fear returning… not fighting."
He nodded slowly —
a silent kind of comfort.
"Returning is harder than battle…
because we fight what we left behind, not what stands before us."
We continued walking.
Something pressed into my chest —
not pain, but truth.
We reached the house.
He stood in front of me, not in front of the door.
"MO…"
"Yes. SOLI?"
"Don't leave yourself there…
even if you find it."
I closed my eyes for a moment.
Then opened the door.
"Tomorrow… we begin."
HE replied:
"Tomorrow… we return."
Then he walked away,
leaving behind a silence that was the only peace I knew.
*************
It was close to six in the morning.
The cold at the airport wasn't the cold of weather —
but the cold of wide, ownerless spaces.
The three of us stood at Gate 17.
Our bags were small, light…
but carried invisible weight.
SOLIMON stood with a straight back, hands in the pockets of his long coat.
His calmness wasn't the calm of peace —
but of someone who had tasted the storm and no longer feared it.
OBASO sat on a metal bench, leaning forward, hands clasped between his knees.
His face unmoving…
But his eyes were darting like a programmer scanning the world in numbers.
He scanned faces, shoes, bags, footsteps… everything.
As for me…
I stood by the window, watching the plane waiting for us.
Its lights flickered like a faint star.
I looked at my reflection in the glass.
A man who knew he wouldn't return from this journey the same.
We stood close,
yet each of us lived in his own world.
A flight attendant walked past with a professional smile —
One is unaware of the weight of trips that never appear on screens.
SOLIMON said quietly:
"TZARIA… is not like this country.
There… there is no line between enemy and friend."
OBASO smiled faintly, like someone who knows more than he needs to explain:
"That's why the three of us are together."
The announcement echoed through the speakers:
"Flight 8-14 to TZARIA — gate now open."
We looked at each other.
Not heroically.
Not dramatically.
Simply with full understanding.
SOLIMON adjusted the strap of his bag.
OBASO stood without a sound, his back straightening slowly.
I picked up my sword — hidden inside a long bag —
as if reclaiming a piece of my heart.
We walked toward the gate.
Steps steady.
No rush.
No hesitation.
Before crossing, SOLIMON paused for a very brief moment.
He whispered:
"No one falls."
OBASO replied:
"Of course."
As for me, I looked at them.
Then we crossed.
The walkway leading to the plane was a long distance…
But we walked like men who knew exactly why there was no way back.
Before I stepped onto the plane, I turned one last time…
and saw the city sleeping under morning fog, as if it were bidding us farewell without knowing.