Detective Mohammed and journalist Susan stood in the heart of an endless sea of sand, shifting dunes melting into the darkness of night. The sky was choked with heavy clouds that obscured the moon, leaving only a faint glimmer of distant stars—small, unblinking eyes watching from afar.
Mohammed stopped and turned slowly toward Susan. His voice came out dry and hoarse, raw with thirst: “We’re walking into nothingness… We don’t even know if this is the right path. We should stop, wait until morning. Perhaps then we’ll find a sign—something to follow.” Susan lowered her head, took a deep breath, her eyes shining with a mixture of unease and stubborn conviction: “But… the book says otherwise. It says that once you cross the mountain, you lose all control. Sheikh Shams al-Duhur is the one wh
