Blurry images. A man a head taller while walking away from him said as if from the bottom of the well, "You won't come back until you’ve become the best!" The image of the man turned in white lines and an illusionary image of a woman took its place. The woman was coming towards him, and she also raised her voice from the bottom of the well: "He is not a good man. There is nothing wrong with killing him." The image of the woman crumbled abruptly, and a steel arm, bearing a tattoo of a rhombus with a dot at its center, emerged from the pieces and clamped onto his collar. He desperately grappled with the colossal arm, which appeared larger than the diameter of his thighs, trying to wrench it away. However, the owner of that arm paid him no heed, as if engaged in a conversation with someone else from the depths of a well. Again, the voice echoed from that abyss, "If I hadn't heard it from his excellency's own tongue, I wouldn't have believed it. He's still alive!" Then, the chin corresponding to the massive arm turned towards him, adorned with a thick beard. The voice from the arm warned, "It's your turn. Remember, if you go easy on him, I've instructed him not to go easy on you." With a powerful shove, the arm propelled him forward with such force that his head burst out of the water a moment later, and he struggled to catch his breath.

"Babak! Are you alright?”

Babak struggled to turn and face Abtin, who was floating a little further away.

"I'm fine. Where are we? Where is Sana?”

"I think this is what the throat of the God-stricken div looks like. Sana is right here in my neck.”

Babak, images of the water engulfing him still fresh in his mind, shook his head as he surveyed their bizarre surroundings, his voice resonating in the dreadful pit.

"It could be worse."

"I think you're right. I didn't expect a creature's throat to be so well-lit."

Abtin's observations were spot-on. From their vantage point, the pit's towering walls stretched endlessly, yet there was no sign of the valley's mouth, either due to the night or the distance. Abtin's gaze dropped slightly, drawn by the mysterious sources of light that continued to surprise them. Encircling the crater, at a height equivalent to the size of Abtin's own house from the water's surface, burning torches illuminated the walls, their flames casting mesmerizing reflections on the image of the boys submerged in the water.

The water they now found themselves in was unusual. First, it seemed more elastic than regular water and had a peculiar stretching quality. Second, it had a distinct smell. It was as if someone had introduced chemical ingredients into it, trying to mask any unpleasant odors with a hint of rose water.

"Is there something strange about this water?"

"I feel it too. It's like... I don't know, like dough, but still water! It's hard to describe.”

"Actually, that describes it quite well. I couldn't have put it any better myself. So, I was thinking..."

Babak turned his attention to Abtin to hear the rest of his words.

"Now what?"

Abtin, who had suddenly remembered the Escape Tool, felt his heart racing in his chest but when his hand touched the peculiar object secured in his pocket, he calmed down and came back to surface. He briefly considered using it, but decided that no immediate danger threatened them. Perhaps it would be wiser to contemplate their next move before employing such a valuable and uncertain object. Ignoring Babak's inquisitive expression following his recent action, he continued:

"Now, we have to figure out how to get out of here."

"Well, do you see an opening or something?"

With Babak's question, Abtin began to carefully examine the surrounding walls, mumbling to himself, "an opening... hmm... an opening... what's that?"

"What?"

Abtin swam to a section of the wall that seemed indistinguishable from the rest to Babak. Yet, the eyes of a stonecutter could detect the work of a craftsman quickly, and Babak also had his own unique methods. As he swam towards Abtin, Babak said, "You're right. I don't see anything yet, but it's clear that Mr. Div didn't put these torches here himself. Plus..."

He gestured with his hand to a spot just above where Abtin was investigating and touching. A small opening revealed an ivy-like plant that climbed upward, winding its way around the feet of the torches. Burn marks were still visible on his body.

"This is how they light the torches. Someone else must be here."

Abtin nodded in agreement and accelerated his exploration of the particular stone. However, before he could make any significant discovery or lose hope, they were startled by a heavy thud. The stone they were examining unexpectedly moved forward, leaving them with hardly any chance to escape. A moment later, a stone slab with irregular edges, roughly the height of a teenager in the early stages of puberty, descended like a drawbridge, coming to rest just above the water's surface, near where their heads had been just a moment earlier.

As the massive stone slid forward, creating an opening in the cave's heart, an intense howling sound echoed into the pit, growing louder as it reverberated off the walls and surged upwards. When the stone finally settled in place, the noise did not stop. Instead, the valve's opening released a wild wind with such force that it created a horizontal trench in the water, extending across the pit to the other side, and the water remained in a depressed state.

Babak and Abtin exchanged a brief glance before the flickering light of a torch emerged from the opening, casting a long shadow. The person who arrived through the opening remained a mysterious figure, their steps lost in the relentless howling noise. When they reached the hatch, their identity became clear—a short man dressed entirely in a white robe. The strong wind made his hair, beard, and clothing billow horizontally.

In the dim and slippery light, Abtin could only make out the man's marble-like and shining eyes, while Babak noticed the distinctive feature of a broken nose. The man, crouched on his knees, reached out his hand towards them, offering help.

“I apologize, gentlemen. The situation of this entrance is a little out of our hands. Let me help you.”

A few moments later, their bodies, heavy with wetness, were bent behind the dwarf man's head and they were walking along the dug-out stone path. When the dwarf man pulled Babak out of the water, he turned to the end of that corridor of - as Babak's heart called it – mole holes, and shouted to an unknown audience: "Shut it!" And as a result, the boulder behind them returned to its original place and the intensity of the wind flow decreased significantly. Silently, they continued their slow progress through the dim, winding corridors. Occasionally, the low ceiling forced even the dwarf man to bow his head, making their arduous journey even more challenging. They were thankful for the peculiar water that had likely saved them, but it clung to their clothing like a heavy burden, making each step feel as if they carried double their body weight.

As they moved forward, Abtin's thoughts kept drifting back to his father. The mysterious messages from the handkerchief and the Spring Tree tugged at his consciousness, compelling him to search for obscure connections to his father. The enigma of it all weighed on him. While they continued their slow and arduous journey, Abtin could not shake off his nagging concerns about Ardeshir either. Why didn't Ardeshir join them as planned? Abtin mulled over the possibilities and the uncertainty that clouded their situation.

Taking a moment during their crawl, he cautiously removed the inflated Sana from his collar. She emerged and started walking towards him, a tiny moving wonder. As he observed Sana, Abtin's mind was consumed by thoughts of Ardeshir.

"Could something have happened to Ardeshir?" he wondered silently. Abtin quickly dismissed the idea. He knew the kind of person Ardeshir was - someone who wouldn't simply abandon their mission. Even if he couldn't come personally, Ardeshir would have found a way to send a message or a sign. Abtin reminded himself that the man who had left the escape plan in his house was not someone who would disappear without a trace. Finally, he admitted to himself that perhaps he didn't know Ardeshir as well as he had thought.

"You truly are your father's son, Abtin."

Upon hearing his own name, Abtin came out of his thoughts. The dwarf man had said this without turning his face, and he was still walking in the corridor of mole holes with short steps. Abtin did not allow silence more than this:

"Who're you?" How do you know me, let alone my father?”

The man's voice was bass, and this corridor sealed this characteristic.

"My name is Saman son of Hanun. Your father was one of my old colleagues.”

Abtin's heart collapsed in his chest. Was?

"Of course, we had some disagreements. Strong disagreements! Not all of them had happy endings..."

Saman drew his broad hand and square fingers to his broken nose and continued:

"But we could deal with each other. He was also very reticent, the same as yourself. After all these years, you suddenly find out that such things have been going on under your feet all this time, Ardeshir hasn't been found either, probably a thousand more questions are going through your mind, but you are still waiting for your audience to open the conversation.”

Abtin, who was not sure that he could bear the answer to his question, asked:

"Why do you keep using past tense? Did something happen?”

“Attentive. Very much like Bahram! Of course, Shirin Banu was even more attentive than Bahram. If you have inherited it from both of them, it will be very dangerous!”

How many years had passed since the last time he had heard the name of his parents from the mouth of a stranger? Of course, the Farnasians were not to blame in this regard. He didn't want to talk about them with anyone, and they left him after a while, thinking that these reminders were painful for him. With a grudge that involuntarily grabbed his throat, he repeated:

"Why do you use past tense?"

"Well, because your father is no longer here. He's left. From the way he left, I don't think I can call him my colleague anymore. When a person..."

Abtin did not hear the rest of the words of the dwarf, Saman or whatever his name was. Wasn't his father there? After all the patience and tolerance of loneliness, after all the ups and downs of hope and despair, the blue handkerchief had finally appeared, but still there was no news of Bahram? Of course, he did not know why he had to wait for his father in such a place. He only knew that his heart wanted the job to be done sooner, and now that he heard these words, he had to act "logically" again and stop himself from emotional expectations. He heard his father's voice in his head for the thousandth time, that day, he bent over Abtin's childlike figure and whispered in his ear: "Visit the Tree every morning. Whenever you see a blue handkerchief with a silver dot in the middle tied around one of the branches above it, know that in that day, the family is going to meet again."

"Let me tell you something. The same thing I told Bahram. In itself, reticence is not a bad thing. But when it becomes too much, when you carry your sorrows and complications in your heart and don't seek advice from anyone, you end up being depressed. Now that I see that you are not saying anything again, I can guess that if you are your father's child, you are probably putting the blame on yourself in different ways."

Before Abtin gave Saman's answer, Babak answered from behind him:

"If your speech is over, let me tell you that he is not going to be depressed. I'll make sure of this myself."

Then, once, twice, he tried to spit some unknown object out of his mouth, but when he failed, he removed it from his tongue with his hand. It looked like a piece of dark red hair or fur, but he couldn't tell what animal it was.

"Do you keep beasts down here?"

And then without waiting for an answer - it didn't matter to him - he continued:

"Never mind. Instead of advice, tell me, when will we arrive? My back's been bent for so long I am afraid it will break like a piece of wood."

"Not much further now, young man."

Saman, slightly taken back by Babak's tone, responded with a hint of defensiveness before softening his approach. "By the way, is your hair naturally that shade?"

Babak unconsciously reached for his head, realizing the azure handkerchief was almost slipping from his hair. As though holding a cherished relic, he carefully tucked it away in his pocket while responding with a subtle, enigmatic smile. "I believe so."

"You believe so?" Saman inquired, curiosity tinged with skepticism.

"Somehow, I've lost my memory. The only memories I have are from the past few days."

As they rounded the curve, Saman briefly disappeared from view, his voice lowering to a more conspiratorial tone. "I see."

Once they completed the turn and took a few steps, they straightened themselves, and Abtin adjusted Sana in his collar. Temporarily setting aside their earlier conversation, they began to visually explore this new subterranean space. Their first discovery was the illumination; in the heart of this underground cavern, it was as radiant as a cloudless day under a clear sky.

The expansive chamber they entered resembled a towering cylinder, its height equating to three stacked Abtin houses. Along the midsection of the cylinder's wall, at regular intervals, a network of mesh-like vents allowed light to filter through, casting a luminous glow upward. On the lofty ceiling, a curved silver mirror captured and diffused the radiance received from this intricate web, bathing the entire space in an ethereal light.

Entranced by the spectacle, they tilted their heads upward, their mouths slightly agape. Unbeknownst to them, Saman stood in a distant corner, wearing a gratified expression. As they gradually lowered their gazes, they observed that, despite the absence of polished, smooth surfaces, the walls were devoid of any visible protrusions. The construction of this colossal stone chamber, hewn from the same durable material as the God-stricken div, must have spanned countless years.

Abtin, taking in the view from the ceiling, contemplated the mysteries within the depths of his mind. How long had these enigmatic people, whoever they might be, dwelled beneath the earth's surface? What purpose had tethered them to this subterranean world? The light that danced upon the mirrored ceiling, originating from the lattice-like grids, could not be sunlight, as Farnas lacked such illumination in its night sky. Neither did it bear the semblance of firelight. The source of this radiant glow remained an enigma.

From the lower portion of the walls to the very ground they stood on, intricate patterns composed of silvery pebbles adorned the surface. Abtin struggled to decipher their meaning, surmising that they represented an unknown, perhaps ancient language. The stonework undulated and meandered, resembling a visual symphony—lines twisting, rising, and intertwining as though they aspired to ascend even higher, to adorn the ceiling itself.

The stone floor gleamed with a lustrous polish, and the only irregularities were the pebble patterns that graced the surface, climbing the walls like ivy. Within this hushed chamber, silence was interrupted not by a human voice, but by a faint, sibilant sound. Everyone, including Saman, instinctively turned their faces towards the eastern door through. This circular corridor bore three additional doors, perfectly spaced at ninety-degree intervals, and the subtle hiss emanated from the eastern portal.

Moments later, something at the base of that door caught their attention. One of the intricately intertwined stone inscriptions that extended from the doorframe into the corridor glimmered faintly, casting a gentle light. This phenomenon manifested as a short, moving streak of light. The winding path of this luminous line held its own in a dance of hisses and sways, ultimately guiding their gazes to the sunken circle at the center of the chamber. In another fleeting moment, the entire circle burst into a milky fire.

Despite the astonishment etched on their faces, which brought Saman great joy, none among them were mentally paralyzed. In this crucial moment, Babak silently contemplated, "This is no ordinary fire; it emits no smoke." Simultaneously, Abtin grappled with his inner turmoil, his fists clenched, and an unspoken question held his thoughts captive: "What is this place?"

"Welcome, gentlemen, to Sepidaran," Saman finally spoke, and shortly after, wearing a smile on his face and a confident tone, he continued, "I'm pleased to see your appreciation for my innovative lighting solution. It was one of the points your father and I disagreed on. He disapproved of us harnessing Nurgohar in this manner."

"Well, Saman, you needn't dwell on the past any longer."

Emerging from the eastern door was a tall man dressed in a fine silk robe, which draped over his black shirt and trousers. His hair was trimmed and brown, his beard and mustache met but did not exceed the chin's boundary. His eyes, pure turquoise in color, paired with his gracefully arched, thin eyebrows, lend him a contemplative yet amiable expression. Below his pointed, bony nose, his crimson lips bore a broad smile, which soon parted to utter the next words, "Greetings to you! Barbod Bahmani, the sole member of our community with music coursing through his veins, extends his warm welcome!" "

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

As he passed by Saman, the tall and handsome man lightly patted his head, despite Saman's obvious displeasure, and proceeded to adjust his neatly combed-back hair with a hint of indifference. Barbod approached the young men and, with an assertive grip, shook their unextended hands before saying, "I imagine you must be utterly astonished. A place of such exquisite beauty, adorned with such well-dressed individuals – though there are always exceptions, right , dear Saman? – hidden beneath the village all this time, and you had no inkling of it. Oh my!"

As Barbod expounded on his self-praise, he touched the intricately embroidered linings of his robe, seeking acknowledgment in the accolades he'd bestowed upon himself. However, Abtin remained impervious, and Babak, with a slight downturn of his lips and a half-parted mouth, his furrowed brows and narrowed gaze, withheld the admiration that seemed to be expected of him. Barbod appeared unfazed by their response, but Saman, with evident displeasure and a tinge of irritation, intervened to halt his self-indulgence, asking, "What is that stain behind your trouser knee?"

This question seemed to discompose Barbod greatly. A few moments later, while he was covertly obsessing over a nonexistent stain behind his back, Saman continued to address the newcomers, "Well, it appears you've already met two of us: one whose contributions have a tangible impact on Sepidaran's progress, and another who asserts that the movement of his fingers unlock the gates of heaven!"

There was no need for Saman to articulate his final sentence, as it had evidently occurred, prompting Barbod to respond with wide-eyed bewilderment during his futile cleaning efforts. "Say what you will," he retorted, "these youngsters will eventually discern that you are the source of all the issues here!"

Saman turned his attention from the boys to Barbod, retorting, "Is that so? Without me, there would be no light here, no refuge from bats and mice. Have you ever contemplated what would transpire if you were not present..."

"That's enough of that!" Babak's voice, sudden and forceful, startled even Abtin. When he redirected his gaze towards Babak, no traces of anger were evident. Instead, he seemed mostly exasperated to find individuals who likely held the answers to his inquiries embroiled in such juvenile quarrels.

When silence once again held sway in the hallway, where even the fire in the center emitted no sound, Babak calmly ran a hand through his hair and inquired, "Thank you very much for the performance. Now, please explain your intentions."

Saman and Barbod exchanged glances, while Abtin wore a perplexed expression. Saman, having regained his composure, addressed Babak, "So you've discerned it?"

Babak, displaying indifference, folded his arms across his chest and replied, "Of course."

Abtin, whose confusion had deepened, directed his question primarily to Babak, saying, "What's happening? I don't understand."

Babak nodded towards Saman and Barbod, who were drawing closer to each other, and continued, "The expressions they've displayed since the arrival of the tall man were all contrived. It was evident that they were putting on a show, but my question why?"

For Abtin, the reasons behind this were anything but clear. He refrained from asking his subsequent question and simply looked at the two men with a questioning gaze. Now, Barbod, his demeanor noticeably more serious, as if undergoing a transformation, approached them and stated in a formal tone, "Because we had only two means to ascertain your true identity."

He directed this statement towards Babak.

"We could have deduced it through a feigned conflict among ourselves, but even with a one percent chance of you being who we suspected, we couldn't risk the collapse of this corridor," Barbod explained, his gaze locked onto Babak.

Abtin, casting aside his inner turmoil, followed Barbod's gaze and observed Babak's countenance as he spoke. This revelation not only confirmed Ardeshir's words but also heightened the gravity of Abtin's prior suspicions. Could the entire corridor genuinely be at risk of collapse if the concealed facet of Babak were to manifest itself? The same light-hearted Babak with whom he had connected from the very beginning? Abtin could not discern whether Barbod spoke in hushed tones or if his own ears momentarily shut out the outside world.

"Alternatively, we could have explored other training you underwent during your childhood. A professional spy, alongside being a warrior and a Parshangi, should possess the ability to differentiate between sincerity and deception. Nevertheless, even someone of your caliber exposed our ruse much sooner than I anticipated," Barbod continued.

Saman chuckled while stroking his beard and remarked, "We're supposed to be the finest actors in our community!"

Babak, undeterred by Saman's jest, raised his index finger to emphasize a point. "Let me confirm my understanding. You believe that if I were to lose my temper, I could pose a danger sufficient to bring down the ceiling above us, correct?"

Barbod and Saman's silence was enough to convey their attentiveness to Babak's words. He continued, "So, it's essential for you to understand that I'm already on edge. If you don't begin explaining who you believe I am, where we are, and address the questions we have, this scenario you mentioned could become a reality."

Abtin shifted his gaze from Babak to the others. Barbod extended his right hand under his robe, seemingly concealing something within his closed fist. He spoke with an air of reassurance, "I hope our words haven't given you any misconceptions. Our hands are not tied."

Saman, signaling caution by extending his hand towards Barbod, then advanced towards the boys, taking a step closer. "Nonetheless, it is in our best interest to steer clear of conflict. I was not joking when I spoke of the toil involved in constructing this section. I'd hate for all those sleepless nights to go to waste. We’ll explain the situation."

With that, he made his way towards the eastern door through which Barbod had entered, gesturing for the boys to follow. They fell in step behind him, and at the same time, Babak responded with an authoritative expression, "Very well." Unbeknownst to Babak, Barbod, who trailed behind them, murmured under his breath, "Certainly, as we deem appropriate."

"As I mentioned, this mountain town is named Sepidaran. The earliest members of our community bestowed this name upon the place when they first arrived. If you seek to uncover the rationale behind this appellation, you may explore the library. I once possessed answers to such inquiries, but I've grown too old to retain that knowledge now. Heh! If I can manage my own tasks, I'll consider it an accomplishment," Saman declared, clearing his throat before continuing, "We belong to an association whose reach extends not merely to the edge of this land but even to the uncharted territories, unmarked by today's businessmen and geographers. Our current location serves as just one of the association's centers, albeit an exceptionally significant one."

As Saman continued with his explanations, they traversed a short corridor that mercifully had sufficient headroom, illuminated by smaller fixtures compared to the ones in the previous corridor. They arrived at another circular chamber, slightly taller than even Barbod, the tallest among them. It appeared devoid of any conspicuous equipment, save for the door through which they had entered, and an additional five doors set into the chamber's walls. A milder version of the wind that they had encountered at the God-stricken div's throat wafted from one of these obscure doors and vanished into the space of the door on the opposite side. Common to this chamber and the prior corridor were the pebbles and enigmatic designs adorning the floor.

"Our association goes by different names: Noushfarrian or Avang-zadegan, among others," Saman began, adopting the demeanor of a native speaking of their homeland. He interlocked his palms and continued to elucidate as he stood before them, "For instance, I recall two reasons behind the name 'Avang-zadegan.' One being that many of our founding members hailed from the Avang region. The other, rooted in the notion that dew (Avang) represents the final transformation of a raindrop, or the last stage of its service as the cupbearer for leaves on a tree— initially the tree of Parsin, and then the tree of the entire world. Thus, it is important to recognize that all community members, despite their differing perspectives, share a vested interest in this land, and to a greater extent, a collective interest in humanity "

Since Abtin merely blinked in response and Babak maintained the same half-parted mouth with downturned corners and narrowed eyes, Saman scratched his head and admitted, "Although I've never claimed to be an adept explainer, I'm not sure why I thought I was doing a decent job this time. Perhaps I was mistaken. I'm unsure if I began my explanations from the right starting point or not."

Then, with a sudden shrug, Saman turned and headed towards the door they had entered through, stating, "Well, I gave it my best effort. As you've witnessed, we kindled a fire in Yoshita's Hallway because I have some repairs to attend to. Barbod will take it from here."

This abrupt relinquishment of responsibility took not only Babak and Abtin but also Barbod by surprise. Before Babak could do more than protest with a "Hey!" Saman had vanished with a swiftness one wouldn't expect from his short legs. The boys turned their attention to Barbod.

"Don't gaze at me that way! Clearly, I'm a more articulate speaker than that little creature, but I'm inclined to respond only when questions are posed. I'll disclose as much as I deem appropriate in response to any questions you may have. Now, come along; it's getting late. You'll be staying the night in Siamak and Hutan's room, as they're on a mission, and we expect them back no earlier than tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, someone will arrive to take you to breakfast. There, you're likely to encounter more community members and can pose any queries that have occurred to you overnight. Alright, let's go!"

Babak couldn't help but mutter to himself, "For someone who doesn't speak unless asked, he certainly talks a lot." Abtin pondered whether this peculiar association held no special meetings or gatherings to provide them with a clear understanding of the situation. As they entered through the central door and found themselves in an exceedingly narrow corridor where their shoulders brushed against the walls on both sides, Abtin posed his first question.

"What role did my father play in your affairs? And if he's no longer with us, does that imply my mother went with him?"

"Ask your questions one at a time! I wasn't particularly close to your father, and I wasn't even in Sepidaran during the events leading to his departure. When I returned, as I mentioned earlier, I didn't have much knowledge of your father, so I didn't make any inquiries about him. Consequently, I'm unaware of the reasons for his departure or his whereabouts, let alone anything concerning your mother," Barbod replied.

Abtin frowned, and for a moment, he contemplated giving Barbod a shoulder punch. However, the confined and endless corridor allowed no room for such gestures.

If Barbod was going to continue answering in this manner, it seemed that they would have little else to do until at least tomorrow morning. However, Babak suddenly posed an illuminating question from behind, "You play the Nakisa Harp, don't you?"

Abtin, who hadn't anticipated Barbod falling into such a trap so easily, was taken back when Barbod turned his gaze away. "My fingers give it away, don't they?" he replied.

"Your fingers are certainly suited for it. I might have forgotten all my memories, but the sound of harp music still resonates in my ears," Babak responded.

Barbod added, "So, regardless of your personality, your taste is exquisite. I'm not surprised. In fact, I am surprised that I'm not surprised. Who wouldn't fall in love upon hearing a single note from a Nakisa "Harp?"

If it were possible, the two boys would have exchanged a knowing glance. Abtin silently mused, "So their performance was rooted in reality," while Babak took advantage of Barbod's forthcoming demeanor, asking, "Well, could you try to recollect anything about Abtin's father, regardless of what it might be?"

Abtin was deeply grateful to Babak because he knew that Barbod undoubtedly had questions about his own past, but for the time being, Babak had opted to inquire on Abtin's behalf.

"I've heard that he was a good person. I'm not sure why he left, especially why he didn't take you with him. I also can't explain why we haven't reached out to you until now, Barbod replied, although Abtin still sensed an evasive tone in his response.

Seizing the opportunity, Abtin continued, "He used to tell me that when I spotted a blue handkerchief tied to a branch of the Spring Tree, that day would be the day I'd see him again. The day our family reunites."

Barbod nodded thoughtfully, "He did? Yes, that does make sense... umm... you haven't seen your parents for four years, right?"

"Five years," Abtin corrected.

"Ah, it must have been quite challenging, even with that carpenter, Ardeshir."

Abtin's curiosity was piqued. "Is Ardeshir also a member of your association?"

"Yes, he is, though in a somewhat different capacity than others. He tends to be more focused on his personal affairs than on the community. He occasionally appears in various incidents and then vanishes. He's an enigmatic one."

"Well, did he... did he know my father? Did you assign him to look after me during this time? Why did my parents leave me?"

Barbod urged caution, "Hey, take it easy! As I mentioned, I wasn't closely acquainted with your parents. I don't know why we haven't reached out to you earlier. You haven't yet fully explored Sepidaran, but let me clarify that this place is far larger than your current perception. The responsibilities here can sometimes become so extensive that even Zal Mardas himself finds it challenging to manage the situation, although he never betrays it in his demeanor."

"Is Zal Mardas your leader?"

"Yes, he is. Despite his hair being entirely white – much whiter than yours back there! Though yours is actually silver, not white – anyway, even though his hair betrays he's lived over a century, I greatly admire him when he strolls with his magnificent staff and that upright posture. If it weren't for him, the differences of opinion among association members might have led to clashes or even a split."

Abtin inquired further, "Well... you were... you were talking about Ardeshir. I understand that you don't know his connection to my family. But do you have any information on whether he had a mission involving me? Or perhaps you don't know the specifics of what transpired on the day of the fire?"

"It's reasonable to assume that he was assigned to watch over you. In any event, if your parents had to depart, they wouldn't leave you without protection. It was a peculiar choice, though, because that man doesn't appear to prioritize even his own well-being. How much time did you spend with him in person during these few years?"

Abtin delved into his memories. He always held a deep affection for Ardeshir and cherished the moments they had shared. He believed that Ardeshir had been his guardian, especially following the Mehrine incident. Yet, in the span of these five years, the total time they had spent together did not even amount to a week.

"Very little," Abtin admitted.

"As I suspected. Him and his bearskin! No one knows where he acquired such a thing," Barbod remarked.

Before the conversation veered into discussions about attire, Babak redirected it to the main topic. "So, Ardeshir has good intentions—although my friend here may not want to admit it, as he seems to harbor doubts due to us being left alone in that situation."

"What situation?" Barbod inquired.

"You haven't heard? Weren't you the ones who sent him to help us escape?"

"As far as I know, no. He hasn't been down here for a few weeks. Just yesterday, I learned through our contact in Farnas that he was back in the vicinity."

"Another intermediary?" Babak pressed.

"Don't inquire about their identity, as I'm unaware. Whoever they are, they're newcomers. You see, as new arrivals, if you decide to stay, you'll come to realize that my lack of knowledge is entirely reasonable. The one who knows all about the events in Sepidaran is Zal Mardas himself," Barbod explained.”

Abtin contemplated that if Zal Mardas was his father's superior, he must be a trusted and important figure with substantial knowledge about his family. "Is it easy to meet Zal Mardas?" he asked.

"Ha! Any moment you spend in Sepidaran, wherever you may be, he could suddenly appear before you! The old man is always hard at work. Did you think he delegated his responsibilities to secretaries? No, my dear, that's not the case. However..." Barbod trailed off.

As they finally approached the end of this trying passage, Barbod lowered his voice as though someone might be listening, placed his hand in front of his mouth, and turned towards the boys. "Mahdis Bano, a descendant of Zal Mardas and one of his advisors, has taken it upon herself to atone for her grandfather. Hardly anyone knows her whereabouts during the day, although everyone is certain that she must be somewhere in Sepidaran."

They entered a space similar to the previous one, with the exception that one of the four entrances had a wooden door mounted on hinges. Torches akin to those in Yoshita's Hall, combined with the light from small fixtures near the ceiling, provided ample illumination. Barbod turned to the two boys, saying, "Thank goodness we're past that confounding passage! I detest tight spaces. At the beginning of my time here, I was quite sensitive to the overall atmosphere, and I used to venture outside every night to get some fresh air. But I've grown accustomed to it. In any case, my responsibilities rarely lead me to these parts of Sepidaran—thankfully! Don't let it give you a negative impression, though. Not all of Sepidaran's corridors are as cramped as this."

His words were genuinely heartfelt. Observing Babak and Abtin looking at him with anticipation, he didn't prolong the pause. "I apologize for these maze-like and intricate sections. They're planning to install navigation signs here very soon. Saman, who is responsible for such matters in Sepidaran, promised to handle the signage installation following the repairs in Yoshita's Hall. So. ..any more questions?" he inquired.

"Let me understand this one thing for now: every year, in all these years, on the night before Yalda, the people of Farnas come to conduct that ceremony, and each time, the God-stricken div with its fiery throat and rumblings completes the ceremony, validating the legends associated with it."

"That's correct."

"Was it all your doing? Did you open the hatch, allowing the wind to blow and lighting those torches? Why?"

"I'm not the one responsible for the regulations and the underlying reasons. However, my immediate assumption is that a faction of the association, which strongly values Parsinian traditions, orchestrates the event to ensure that the legends are not forgotten by the people above They aim to have the stories revisited each year."

Babak nodded in agreement, "That seems plausible." Abtin then asked, "Just one more question!"

"But you said the previous one was the last question. I have a life of my own, you know."

"Apologies, but this is genuinely the final one. It appears that numerous individuals have attempted to enter through the valley's entrance to investigate the ceremony. None of them ever returned."

Barbod smiled and replied, "You can already surmise that those individuals were not permitted to reveal our secret. But don't be concerned; nothing harmful befell them. They all became members of the association. Alright..."

Barbod opened a wooden door leading to a room roughly the size of the floor in Abtin's Farnas home and stepped aside, inviting them inside. "Take a rest. There should be some clothes left from Hutan and Siamak. They may not be the most fashionable, but they should fit your height and size. If you place your own clothes near the Mehrsa Fire – that's what we call this fire , which, as you may have noticed, produces no noise or smoke – they'll dry quickly. Plus, it absorbs any unpleasant odors."

But Babak interjected, "Hold on. If I am indeed the kind of creature you claim, and Abtin is your colleague's son, shouldn't you try to keep us from being in the same room? Don't you think I might get bored in the middle of the night and, I don't know, eat him?"

Abtin and Barbod both smiled at Babak for entirely different reasons. "If I were to request that you separate amicably and take one of you with me, would you agree to that?" Barbod inquired. Both boys automatically shook their heads in refusal. "Well, then, I saw no reason to pose a question to which I already knew the answer. Of course, as I mentioned, we have some degree of control, but it appears that you being together suits us as well."

Following this exchange of questions and answers, the boys entered the room, perhaps after a moment's hesitation. Barbod closed the door behind them and bid them good night. After Barbod left, a few seconds of silence prevailed, which Babak eventually broke. "So, how much has this adventure aligned with your expectations so far?"

Abtin assumed a meek demeanor, looking at Babak meaningfully. "It bears almost no resemblance to what I had imagined."

As Babak surveyed the room, he noticed two small piles of clothes next to each bed, along with a smaller fire lit in a narrow, rectangular recess at the foot of the beds.

"So, the lesson we've learned today, my son, is that you don't want to delve too deeply into the sea of futurism and whatnot. A little bit of it is good, but once you realize how quickly everything can change at any moment, you'll stop obsessing over things that haven't happened."

"Thank you, grandpa. You've just shifted my entire perspective. Keep sharing your wisdom with me!"

"Stick to this for now, my boy, until later. And also, have some respect for these silver hairs I've got going on and don't mock me!"

After some playful banter, Abtin placed his sword beside the bed, and they proceeded to change into the provided clothes. Just as Barbod had suggested, they put their old clothes next to the Mehrsa fire. Abtin tucked the Escape Tool into his new attire. It was then that he noticed the superficial wound on his right shoulder, inflicted by Mordakh. Fortunately, it wasn't a significant mark after all their underwater adventures. Sana found a warm and cozy spot near the fire and closed her eyes.

The two exhausted boys, uncertain of how to dim the fire's light, engaged in a brief, fruitless struggle. Eventually, they succumbed to the calls of their tired and battered bodies and slid under the sheets without concerning themselves with the light. To their surprise, the fire's intensity immediately decreased. Both of them reluctantly raised their heads from their pillows and peered down at their feet. The quantity of the fire had not changed; it was only the brightness of its light that appeared to have lessened. They exchanged expressions of astonishment through their weary eyes and simultaneously lowered their heads to their pillows, staring at the ceiling.

Abtin eventually broke the silence, "You didn't want to ask them a question about yourself?"

Babak responded to Abtin's whisper with a soft, puff-like sound, "Ah! We've got time for that." He then playfully added, "Let's get some sleep, otherwise I'll have you know that I'm already hungry, and I don't like the taste of chicken at all!"

Sana peeked at him, and Babak rolled in his place, turning his back to Abtin. Abtin sensed a dual meaning in Babak's statement: it was both a joke and a reminder of the words spoken by Ardeshir, Barbod, and Saman about Babak. However, Babak's whispered comment to himself, which Abtin overheard, eased the tension in his mind, "They could have at least offered some omelet for dinner!"

Abtin's exhausted body shivered with silent laughter, and he soon drifted off to sleep with a peaceful mind.