📜 READER RULES
"A Realm Where Cowards Get Lost Twice"
1. This story uses a system structure.
Not a tax system, not a coding system— a choice-based survival system.
And every choice has consequences. (Yes, even the stupid ones.)
2. You must be as honorable as a grandmaster in desert chess.
Once your finger touches a pawn—no takebacks.
No crying. No "I didn't mean it."
Live with your decision.
3. Do NOT read all paths.
You're not an omniscient deity. Choose one route and stay loyal.
If you peek at the others, the jinn will judge your commitment issues.
4. The protagonist's fate is now in your hands.
If they die, that's between you and your conscience.
Do not DM the author at 2 a.m. to blame the plot twist.
5. Confused? Terrified? Regretting your choices?
Perfect.
That means the system works.
Proceed.
6. You may laugh, scream, or re-evaluate your life choices.
You may NOT go back and redo the chapter.
This is not a dating sim.
This is destiny—with lag.
***
The evening light in Jabal Fihrayn touched the tall stones like slow-dripping molten gold. The tour group was still busy taking pictures, but the two young men had already slipped into a narrow path the local guide had explicitly warned them about.
"Khatar… don't go far."
(Danger… don't wander too far.)
Rafi walked carefully. His thobe was spotless, his steps measured—as if every inch of that place deserved respect before being stepped on. He kept glancing back, half hoping the guide would call them back, half hoping he wouldn't.
Sahim, meanwhile, walked as if the place belonged to his great-grandfather. His thin bisht was thrown over his shoulder, sunglasses sliding pointlessly up and down his head. He pointed at the stone wall.
"Ya rajul… shuf al-lawn."
(Bro, look at the color.)
His voice was low but burning—typical Riyadh boy behavior, eyes widening whenever something looked aesthetic. Rafi paused, scanning their surroundings.
"Sahim… do we really need to go this far?"
He wasn't angry—just afraid to disappear. Sahim answered without looking back:
"Wallah, if we turn back now, we're just two boys on a regular tour."
Then he turned slightly, giving a crooked smile.
"Let's be two handsome men who dared to see something… different."
Rafi couldn't fight that argument. They reached a small chamber formed between two towering rocks. The evening light fell perfectly onto the sand—like the sun itself wanted to reveal something.
Sahim stepped in first, walking into the circle of light with confidence far too big for his teenage body. He lifted the edge of his bisht dramatically, as if stepping onto a stage.
"If there's a beautiful jinn who wants to show up, now's the time," he said casually.
Rafi wanted to scold him—but the voice in his chest was louder:
this place was not joking.
He took one step closer—and saw the sand move. The fine grains rose a little, fell, rose again—as if someone was trying to remember a hand gesture.
"Ya Satir…" Rafi whispered.
(Oh Protector of hidden things…)
His eyes widened, pupils trembling.
His body didn't move back—
but he couldn't move forward either.
Sahim saw it, and for once, a comment didn't fly out of his mouth immediately. He only whispered:
"Wesh da…?!"
(What is that?!)
The sand began to spin gently, forming a circle unlike anything they had ever seen. The movement was calm… almost soft…and that made it even more terrifying.
Rafi swallowed hard, breath catching.
"Sahim… we need to—"
The movement intensified.
The light shifted colors slowly—
gold → white → faint green → gold again.
The shadows on the wall moved one second slower than their real bodies—and that was impossible. Sahim stepped back half a step, breath breaking.
"Bro… if this is a tourist prank, I swear it's genius."
Rafi finally grabbed his arm.
"We're leaving. Now!"
His voice was low, shaking, but firm. They turned around. Their shoulders slammed together so hard it produced a dull, brief crack of bone.
BUM.
Sahim fell first, his hands grabbing Rafi's thobe as if reaching for a lifeline, and the two collapsed onto the sand, sprawled helplessly. Still half-lying down, He gasped:
"Ya Allah… not yet.
Rafi… wallah, I haven't married Amina from the next class—I can't die like this!"
Rafi panted, hair full of sand.
"Why Amina?"
"Because she's beautiful, ya Allah! Don't question me!"
His voice shot up, nearly cracking.
Rafi wanted to laugh—
he should have laughed—
but the world refused to make space for humor.
Because a voice suddenly emerged—from within the circle of sand.
Faint, lazy, like someone forced awake:
"La… la… laa… lissa badri…"
(No… no… it's too early…)
Sahim froze so hard his phone fell out of his hand.
Rafi felt his knees lose strength.
The voice vanished—as if blown away by a wind that wasn't there.
Then—
a thin crack of light appeared beneath them,
a line stretching slowly, like someone pulling a blade of light out of the ground.
The sand sank downward.
The air pulled inward.
Sahim whispered, voice finally breaking for real:
"Rafi… wain narah ridati?
(Where did I put my little prayer pouch?)"
"I don't know…"
"I don't know either! Ya Allah!"
The crack widened.
The light surged.
The ground collapsed.
And the two young men lost their footing—falling into something they never asked for.
—To be Continued—