Chapter Thirteen: Journey to the Void
Three months had passed since Majid's encounter with Tariq Al-Harthi, the Fifth Level
Traveler from an alternate timeline who had joined the Observer. During this time, Majid
had focused on developing his Second Level abilities while researching the
requirements for the Third Level ritual. His hands had grown accustomed to the subtle
luminescence that marked his status, visible only in darkness or dim light, following the
pattern of veins beneath his skin.
The Door Keepers had increased their surveillance after Tariq's manifestation,
confirming Rana's prediction that they would detect the temporal disturbance. Majid
had spotted followers on multiple occasions—different faces but the same careful
distance, the same alertness to his movements. He had grown adept at losing them,
using his Second Level abilities to manipulate local temporal flow in ways that allowed
him to move undetected when necessary.
His relationship with Zuhair had continued to evolve according to plan. They remained
friends, but the distance Majid had carefully cultivated over the years had prevented the
intense bond that had led to their business partnership in his original timeline. Zuhair
was now more focused on his own social circle, his own ambitions, seeing Majid as a
respected peer rather than an inseparable ally.
It was a crisp winter morning when Majid received an encrypted message from Layla:
"We've found it. The ritual for the Third Level. Come to the bookshop tonight, 8 PM."
The message sent a thrill of anticipation through him. The Third Level ritual was the next
step in his journey as a Traveler, bringing him closer to the abilities he would need to
access his grandfather's hidden library and eventually confront the Door Keepers
directly.
That evening, after telling his parents he was studying with friends, Majid made his way
to Al-Kitab Al-Qadim, taking a circuitous route to ensure he wasn't followed. The
bookshop was closed to regular customers, the CLOSED sign hanging in the window, but
the side door opened at his knock.
Layla led him through the darkened main shop to the back room, where Rana waited
with several ancient texts spread across the low table. The familiar silver tea service sat
nearby, steam rising from the freshly poured cups.
"We've been cross-referencing Al-Qudsi's journal with other temporal texts in Layla's
collection," Rana explained as Majid took his seat. "The Third Level ritual is more
complex than the previous two, with requirements we hadn't anticipated."
"What kind of requirements?" Majid asked, accepting the cup of tea Layla offered him.
"The physical components are straightforward enough," Layla replied, indicating a list
written in her neat handwriting. "Specific herbs and minerals, geometric patterns more
complex than those for the Second Level, candles made from a particular wax infused
with temporal resonant materials."
"We can gather those without much difficulty," Rana added. "But the sacrifice required
for the Third Level is... significant."
"Another memory?" Majid asked, remembering the disorienting experience of the
Second Level ritual, the strange emptiness left where his memory of the balcony in
Riyadh had been.
"No," Layla said, her expression grave. "The Third Level requires a different kind of
sacrifice. According to Al-Qudsi's journal, the Traveler must surrender a connection to
another person—a relationship that has emotional significance."
Majid stared at her, processing the implications. "You mean... forget someone entirely?
Like they never existed?"
"Not exactly," Rana clarified. "The person would still exist in your awareness, but your
emotional connection to them would be severed. You would remember interactions,
conversations, shared experiences, but feel nothing about them—no affection, no anger,
no emotional resonance of any kind."
The concept was disturbing on a fundamental level. To remember someone but feel
nothing for them—to look at a person who had once been important and experience
only a void where emotion should be.
"Who would I choose?" Majid asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"That's the most difficult part," Layla replied. "It must be someone with whom you have
a genuine emotional bond—positive or negative. Family, friend, enemy... the ritual
requires a true connection, not a superficial acquaintance."
Majid's mind raced through the possibilities. His parents were immediately disqualified
—severing his emotional connection to them would fundamentally alter his identity,
potentially disrupting his core motivations. Zuhair was a more viable candidate—their
relationship had already been deliberately distanced, and his feelings toward his former
friend were complex, a mixture of the camaraderie they currently shared and the bitter
knowledge of the betrayal that would have occurred in his original timeline.
But there was another possibility, one that aligned more strategically with his dual
purposes of personal revenge and cosmic advancement.
"What about Samir Al-Zahrani?" he asked. "The Third Guardian of the Door Keepers. I've
never met him directly, but I've seen him, sensed his temporal signature. And he
represents an obstacle to accessing my grandfather's hidden library."
Layla and Rana exchanged concerned glances. "That's... unconventional," Layla said
carefully. "The ritual typically requires a personal relationship, someone with whom
you've had direct emotional interactions."
"But not impossible?" Majid pressed.
"Not impossible," Rana confirmed after a moment's consideration. "The emotional
connection doesn't have to be based on extensive personal interaction. It could be
based on what the person represents to you—in this case, the Door Keepers' opposition
to your journey, the barrier between you and your grandfather's knowledge."
"There's another factor to consider," Layla added. "Sacrificing your emotional
connection to Samir might provide a strategic advantage. Door Keepers can sense
emotional responses in those they encounter—it's part of how they identify potential
threats. If you could interact with Samir without generating any emotional signature, it
might confuse his ability to assess you accurately."
The strategic implications were compelling. Sacrificing his emotional connection to
Samir Al-Zahrani would not only satisfy the ritual requirements but potentially provide
an advantage in future confrontations with the Third Guardian.
"Then that's my decision," Majid said firmly. "Samir Al-Zahrani will be the sacrifice for my
Third Level ritual."
"There's more you need to understand about the Third Level before committing to this
path," Layla cautioned. "The abilities it grants are powerful but come with significant
risks."
She turned to one of the ancient texts on the table, carefully turning pages until she
found the passage she sought. "According to this account from a Seventeenth Century
Traveler, the Third Level grants the ability to create temporal pockets—small spaces
where time flows differently than in the surrounding reality. These pockets can be used
to accelerate research, to heal injuries more quickly, even to preserve objects or
information that might otherwise be lost to time."
"That would be incredibly useful," Majid observed, already imagining the applications
for such an ability.
"Yes, but there's a cost," Rana interjected. "Creating these temporal pockets strains the
fabric of reality. Use them too frequently or make them too large, and you risk creating
temporal fractures—unstable areas where the normal flow of time breaks down
completely."
"These fractures attract attention," Layla added. "Not just from Door Keepers, but from
entities that exist in the spaces between timelines—beings that are drawn to disruptions
in temporal flow. Some are merely curious, but others are predatory, seeking to enter
our reality through the weaknesses created by temporal manipulation."
This was new information, a complication Majid hadn't anticipated. "What kind of
entities?" he asked, a chill running down his spine despite the warmth of the room.
"They're called Void Walkers in most temporal traditions," Layla explained. "Beings that
evolved in the spaces between timelines, adapted to an environment where time and
space function differently than in our reality. They perceive temporal energy as
sustenance, are drawn to it like moths to flame."
"Are they dangerous?"
"Some are," Rana confirmed. "The predatory ones can drain temporal energy from
Travelers, weakening their anchoring to their timeline. In extreme cases, they can pull a
Traveler's consciousness into the Void Between Worlds, trapping them in a state of
perpetual disorientation."
"Like what happened to my grandfather?" Majid asked, remembering Tariq's revelation
that Abdul Karim now existed in the Void, neither fully alive nor truly dead.
"Possibly," Layla acknowledged. "Though from what Tariq revealed, your grandfather's
situation may be more complex—a deliberate transition rather than a predatory attack."
Majid absorbed this information, weighing the risks against the potential benefits of
advancing to the Third Level. The ability to create temporal pockets would significantly
enhance both his personal plans for revenge and his exploration of the cosmic struggle
involving the Gates and the Observer. But the risk of attracting Void Walkers, of
potentially creating unstable fractures in the fabric of reality itself, was sobering.
"When can we perform the ritual?" he asked finally, his determination unshaken despite
the new complications.
"The optimal time would be during the spring equinox," Layla replied. "The balance
between day and night creates a natural stability in temporal currents that will help
control the ritual energies. That gives us approximately six weeks to prepare."
"And in the meantime?" Majid asked.
"In the meantime, you continue developing your Second Level abilities, particularly your
control over local temporal flow," Rana advised. "The more precisely you can
manipulate time around physical objects, the better prepared you'll be for the expanded
abilities of the Third Level."
"And we need to gather the ritual components," Layla added. "Some are rare, requiring
specific sources. We'll handle that part—you focus on your training and maintaining your
cover as an ordinary teenager."
As Majid left the bookshop that night, his mind was filled with conflicting emotions.
Excitement at the prospect of advancing to the Third Level, apprehension about the
sacrifice required and the risks involved, and a cold determination to continue on the
path he had chosen despite the increasing complications.
The weeks leading up to the spring equinox passed in a blur of intense training and
careful preparation. Majid divided his time between his normal routine—school, family
interactions, measured social engagements—and secret sessions with Layla and Rana,
developing his control over his Second Level abilities.
He had become particularly adept at manipulating the temporal flow around physical
objects, accelerating or decelerating their progression through time with increasing
precision. He could age a flower from bud to bloom in seconds, or preserve a drop of
water in mid-air, suspended in a bubble of slowed time. These exercises were performed
in the carefully shielded back room of the bookshop, where the temporal signatures
they generated would be masked from any Door Keepers who might be monitoring the
area.
As the equinox approached, Majid found himself thinking more about the sacrifice he
had chosen—his emotional connection to Samir Al-Zahrani, the Third Guardian of the
Door Keepers. Though they had never spoken directly, Samir had become a significant
figure in Majid's mental landscape, representing both an obstacle to his goals and a link
to his grandfather's legacy. The thought of severing that emotional connection, of
looking at Samir and feeling nothing—no anger, no fear, no determination to overcome—
was unsettling in ways Majid hadn't anticipated.
Yet he remained committed to his choice. The strategic advantage of being able to
interact with the Third Guardian without generating an emotional signature that could
be detected was too valuable to ignore. And unlike sacrificing his connection to family or
friends, this sacrifice wouldn't fundamentally alter his core relationships or motivations.
The night of the spring equinox arrived clear and cool, the stars unusually bright in the
sky above the abandoned quarry they had chosen for the ritual. Located thirty
kilometers outside the city, the quarry offered both isolation from potential observers
and natural stone walls that would help contain the temporal energies generated by the
ritual.
Majid arrived with Rana, having told his parents he was attending an overnight study
session with friends from the debate team. Layla was already there, having spent the day
preparing the ritual space—a complex pattern of interlocking circles and spirals drawn in
a mixture of crushed bone, ash, and powdered minerals that glowed faintly in the
darkness.
"Are you ready?" Layla asked as Majid surveyed the preparations. Seven black candles
stood at specific points around the pattern, their flames unnaturally still in the night air.
In the center lay a silver bowl containing a mixture of herbs and minerals, alongside the
ceremonial knife with its handle of dark wood inscribed with temporal symbols.
"I'm ready," Majid confirmed, his voice steady despite the apprehension coiling in his
stomach. He had come too far to turn back now, had committed himself to this path with
full awareness of its risks and potential rewards.
He removed his shirt and shoes, as he had for the previous rituals, and stepped into the
innermost circle of the pattern. The chalk lines seemed to respond to his presence, the
faint glow intensifying slightly as he knelt in the center.
Layla and Rana took their positions at the eastern and western points of the circle,
respectively. They began the chant—the same unfamiliar language Majid had heard
during the previous rituals, but with a more complex rhythm, a cadence that seemed to
resonate with the beating of his heart and the flow of blood through his veins.
As the chant intensified, the chalk lines began to glow more brightly, shifting from a faint
luminescence to a deep purple light that pulsed in synchronization with the words. Majid
felt the familiar pain beginning—a burning sensation that started in his hands and
spread throughout his body, increasing in intensity until it felt as if every cell was being
consumed by fire.
But unlike the previous rituals, where he had maintained his focus by visualizing his
consciousness as separate from his physical form, this time Majid was instructed to
direct his attention inward—to the emotional connections that defined his relationships
with others. He needed to identify and isolate his feelings about Samir Al-Zahrani, to
prepare them for extraction by the ritual vortex.
This proved more difficult than he had anticipated. His feelings about Samir were
complex, intertwined with his broader emotions about the Door Keepers, his
grandfather's legacy, and the cosmic struggle he had inherited. Separating this specific
emotional connection from the larger tapestry of his motivations required intense
concentration, a precision of thought that was challenging to maintain through the
escalating pain of the ritual.
The purple light of the ritual pattern intensified, and Majid felt a pulling sensation at the
center of his being—the temporal vortex forming, preparing to extract his chosen
sacrifice. He focused more intently on his emotional connection to Samir, visualizing it
as a distinct thread in the fabric of his consciousness, ready to be severed and
surrendered.
The vortex pulled harder, and Majid felt the connection beginning to unravel—his anger
at Samir's role in preventing access to his grandfather's knowledge, his determination to
overcome the Third Guardian's opposition, his curiosity about the man who had
dedicated his life to maintaining the Door Keepers' control over the Gates. These
emotions began to dissolve, threads of feeling being drawn out of his consciousness by
the relentless pull of the vortex.
But as with the Second Level ritual, something unexpected happened. As his emotional
connection to Samir faded, another connection began to unravel alongside it—his
feelings about his father, Abdul Rahman Al-Harthi. The two emotional threads were
somehow intertwined, connected in ways Majid hadn't recognized until he felt them
both being pulled into the vortex.
He tried to separate them, to retain his emotional bond with his father while
surrendering only his feelings about Samir. But the vortex pulled at both, the connection
between them too strong to break. In a moment of panic, Majid realized he faced a
choice—allow both connections to be severed, losing his emotional bond with his father
as well as Samir, or fight to retain both, potentially disrupting the ritual entirely.
In that critical moment, with the vortex pulling at the very fabric of his emotional
landscape, Majid made a desperate attempt to redirect the sacrifice. Instead of
surrendering his connection to either Samir or his father, he offered something else—his
emotional attachment to his original timeline, to the life he had left behind when his
consciousness traveled back to his childhood.
It was a gamble, a spontaneous deviation from the carefully planned ritual. But as the
vortex shifted its focus to this new offering, Majid felt a profound sense of rightness—this
was a sacrifice that served his journey without compromising his core relationships in
his current timeline.
The ritual pattern flared with blinding intensity, the purple light shifting to a brilliant
white. Majid felt a tearing sensation, as if something was being ripped from his
consciousness by force rather than surrendered willingly. The pain peaked, transcending
physical sensation to become something more fundamental—a cosmic agony that
seemed to exist at the level of his very being.
Then, abruptly, it was over. The light faded from the ritual pattern, the candles guttered
and went out, and Majid found himself still kneeling in the center of the circle, gasping
for breath, his body drenched in sweat.
But something was different. His entire body was glowing faintly in the darkness, not
just his hands but his arms, torso, and face as well—a subtle luminescence that followed
the pattern of veins and arteries beneath his skin. And in his mind, where his emotional
connection to his original timeline had been, there was now a strange emptiness—a
space where he knew intellectually that he had once lived another life, but could access
no emotional or sensory details of that existence.
"It is done," Layla said, her voice hoarse from the extended chanting. "But something
changed. The ritual... adapted."
Rana moved to help Majid to his feet, supporting him as his legs trembled with
exhaustion. "What happened?" she asked, studying his glowing form with a mixture of
concern and professional interest. "The energy signature shifted dramatically at the
end."
"I couldn't sacrifice my connection to Samir without also losing my bond with my
father," Majid explained, his voice weak but steady. "They were connected somehow,
intertwined in ways I didn't understand. So I offered something else—my emotional
attachment to my original timeline."
Layla and Rana exchanged alarmed glances. "That's... unprecedented," Layla said
carefully. "The ritual shouldn't have accepted a substitute sacrifice. The requirements
are specific, tied to the nature of the abilities granted by each level."
"Yet it did accept it," Rana observed, gesturing to Majid's glowing form. "The Third Level
transformation is complete. His entire body bears the luminescence, not just his hands."
"How do you feel?