That night in Baghdad, Aisha closed a rare manuscript inside Bayt al-Hikmah, her eyes still shining with the knowledge she had discovered. The evening breeze swept through the palace courtyard, carrying the scent of pomegranate blossoms and lingering spices from the kitchen. She smiled to herself, realizing how vast the world of knowledge truly was—and that her journey had only just begun.
--
Thousands of miles away, on the other side of the world, night fell heavily upon a pesantren in the Indonesian archipelago.
Indonesia, 2024
Rain poured down relentlessly, hammering the roof of the boarding school like the beat of a giant drum. Wind danced through the trees in the courtyard, branches scraping against one another, whispering like secrets in the dark. The power went out, plunging the corridors into darkness, leaving only small emergency lamps flickering weakly.
On the upper floor, Ruqayyah stared out the dormitory window, half-asleep yet half-curious. Suddenly, a scream echoed from the hallway.
"Aaaah! The pocong is coming!"
Ruqayyah scowled. "Not again…"
Several students—never known for their calm behavior—had turned into "instant ghosts." One wrapped herself in white cloth, hopping around like a pocong. Another waved black fabric dramatically, pretending to be a kuntilanak, complete with eerie noises. Some even screamed while acting like ghostly nurses stealing souls, sending younger students running into walls in panic.
Trying to look brave, Ruqayyah instead slipped and fell to the floor, screaming, "Astaghfirullah! Who dares cause trouble at a time like this?!"
Bela struggled to hold back her laughter, bending over and patting her knees. "If this were a fear competition, I'd rather be the crawling ghost," she muttered.
Nearby, the mischievous girls laughed while peeking from behind doors.
"Hahaha! Look at Bela! She's so scared she fell flat!"
That night was filled with laughter and shrieks—as if the pesantren had turned into a strange, comedic horror stage.
After a few minutes, a supervisor finally walked through the corridor with a small flashlight, her voice firm.
"Calm down, everyone! The power outage won't last long. Stop causing chaos—and no more scaring others!"
The troublemakers only smiled innocently.
As the rain slowly softened and the night grew deeper, the corridors returned to silence. Only the final droplets falling from the roof could be heard.
Ruqayyah walked toward the library—her original plan to iron her uniform now merely an excuse. Without realizing it, her steps slowed, her gaze drawn to the bookshelves, as if they were calling to her.
Inside the library, something felt different. The shelves seemed taller, the candlelight warmer, and every book appeared to hold a secret waiting to be uncovered.
As she reached for a manuscript, a gentle voice spoke.
"Do you wish to know the story of the Abbasid Dynasty?"
Ruqayyah turned. A young girl stood there, smiling softly, holding a thick book.
"This is Al-'Abbāsiyah," the girl said. "A record of an age of greatness—when knowledge and power walked side by side."
She began to read aloud, telling stories of scholars, philosophers, and scientists who worked beneath one shared sky: Al-Kindi, Al-Khwarizmi, Hunayn ibn Ishaq. The words felt alive, as if Ruqayyah herself were standing inside Bayt al-Hikmah, watching scholars debate and write endless scrolls.
"But remember," the girl continued softly, "Bayt al-Hikmah did not stand forever. In 1258, Mongol forces invaded Baghdad. Thousands of books were thrown into the Tigris River, its waters turning black with ink. The light of knowledge nearly vanished from the world."
Ruqayyah was spellbound. She looked down at the book in her lap, feeling the weight of history pressing against her chest.
When she looked up again, the girl was gone—vanished without a sound.
Ruqayyah's eyes widened. "Who was she?" she whispered. "Did Allah send someone to teach me?"
She closed the book and smiled faintly, shaking her head. "I'm just an ordinary student… I shouldn't dream too much."
Yet her heart continued to race. The rainy night, the playful ghosts, and the mysterious girl blended into an experience she would never forget.
Suddenly, Bela's voice echoed from beyond the shelves.
"Ruqayyah! What are you doing here alone?"
Ruqayyah jumped and turned quickly. "B-Bela?! Since when were you here?"
Bela smiled casually, crossing her arms. "I should be asking you that. Weren't you supposed to be ironing uniforms with the others? How did you end up in the library?"
Ruqayyah closed the book, stood up, and lightly patted her cheeks. "Come on. Let's go back to the dorm before the emergency lights go out again."