A week had passed. Amr and Keenan set up their tent in the heart of the bustling market. The atmosphere was alive—the air thick with the scent of spices and the frantic cries of merchants. People swarmed from every direction, yet their small tent remained a ghost town, receiving only a trickle of customers.
The lack of trade weighed heavily on Amr. Frustration had reached its peak, driving him to spend most of his working hours slumped in a corner, surrendered to sleep. Keenan, however, was different. Despite the boredom, he clung to the work with a silent, desperate resolve. In his young mind, every piece of fabric sold brought him closer to the promise his father—or the man he called father—had made: that all of this would eventually end.
Keenan stood at the entrance, his eyes heavy, fighting the urge to drift off. Just as the world began to blur, a man approached. He was handsome, moving with a light, phantom-like grace. He let his fingers trail over the hanging fabrics before leaning in, his voice a mere whisper.
"Are you the only one working here?"
Keenan shook his head.
"Is there someone else inside the tent?" the stranger pressed.
Keenan nodded slowly. Curiosity finally broke his silence. "Who are you? And why all the questions? Didn't you come here to buy something?"
The man looked momentarily flustered, scratching his head with an embarrassed smile. "I... I just wanted to..."
"Keenan! Who's out there?" Amr's voice thundered from the depths of the tent.
Keenan didn't take his eyes off the stranger. "A man... a stranger asking about us... I mean you... I mean..." He smiled awkwardly at the man. "What exactly did you want to ask about?"
The stranger opened his mouth to reply, but Amr cut through the tension. "Enough."
With a sharp gesture, Amr signaled for Keenan to go inside. The boy obeyed, but his gaze remained glued to them through the slit in the fabric. Only then did Amr drop his mask of sternness. His face softened, revealing a hidden anxiety.
"How far did you get? Did you find her?"
The man shook his head sadly. "Unfortunately, no. And there is more bad news."
Amr groaned, his shoulders sagging. "Damn it... bad news follows me like a shadow. Out with it."
The man lowered his voice even further, leaning in close. "Don't despair. Someone else is taking over the matter. He is efficient, and he will bring her to you soon."
"Is he reliable?" Amr asked, his voice laced with suspicion.
"Absolutely," the man replied with conviction. "He is a man of his word. He never leaves a task unfinished."
A wave of relief washed over Amr. "Fine. If you vouch for him, I will place my trust in your hands. I know you only deal with real men."
They shook hands firmly. Then, the stranger's tone turned cautious. "The atmosphere in the heart of the capital is ominous, Amr. Be careful."
Before turning to leave, he added one more thing: "You can use your 'Gift' whenever you wish now. The danger in your street has vanished. It turns out the man assigned to watch your area... is the same man I just told you about."
Amr looked down at his hands, his voice trembling with a long-lost longing. "Finally... I feel as if a chain has been broken from my wrists."
The stranger smiled warmly. "Good luck."
As the man vanished into the crowd, Amr was overwhelmed with a joy so sharp it brought tears to his eyes. Keenan stepped out from behind the curtain, staring at him in bewilderment.
"Why are you so happy? Did that man buy everything we have?"
Amr turned to him, a radiant smile plastered on his face. "No, not that... I just feel like a small light has finally shone upon us."
Keenan watched him, a skeptical look on his face. I don't know what's wrong with this man, he thought. He's been acting strange lately.
The day ended. The merchants packed their wares, and Keenan and Amr followed suit, loading their belongings onto their donkey's back for the trek home. Throughout the journey, Amr's joy didn't fade. What did that stranger bring him? Keenan wondered. What could make someone this happy?
Upon arriving at the house, Amr tied the donkey to the wooden post in the courtyard and immediately retreated inside, collapsing onto his bed in a deep, peaceful slumber.
As Keenan lingered in the yard, his eyes caught a scrap of paper lying on the dusty ground. He knelt slowly and picked it up. He stared at it for a long moment before tucking it into his shawl. He couldn't read, but something deep inside told him not to throw it away.
Inside, he sat watching Amr's sleeping back. He's asleep again. Should I go out now? He hesitated. No, no... he'll track me down like last time. I still don't know how he found me exactly. But even if I leave... where would I go?
He stood up, his frustration boiling over. "I feel like I'm suffocating! Everyone lets their children go out, but I... but I..."
"If you want to go out... then go," Amr's raspy voice suddenly cut through the room. "But when you get lost, don't you dare start screaming my name."
Joy flooded Keenan's heart. For a second, he couldn't even speak. Was this it? Was this the feeling of freedom?
He didn't even look back. He sprinted toward the door, then paused, his hand on the latch. Is this real? Did I hear him right? He ran back into the room, his eyes wide with excitement. "Did you really say I could go?! I can't believe it!"
Amr merely sighed and waved his hand, dismissing him.
"Yes!" Keenan cheered, and he vanished through the door.
Keenan ran through the streets, heading straight for the entrance of the city's heart for the second time. His heart hammered against his ribs with an unaccustomed heat. Finally, he was allowed to be alone. As he reached the gate, he paused, trying to summon that same magical feeling he had felt the first time. Then, with a newfound resolve, he stepped through, determined to see every inch of this forbidden world.
As he wandered, his eyes landed on a man playing with his young son. The boy hugged his father tightly, laughing. The sight was like a physical blow to Keenan. It stirred a dormant ache—the longing for his own family.
Driven by instinct, Keenan moved toward them, standing silently a few feet away. The man's smile vanished, replaced by a scowl.
"Hey, you! What do you think you're doing?"
Keenan didn't know how to answer. He backed away, his heart heavy. Keenan, what's wrong with you? he chided himself. Is the longing making you act like a fool? He stopped by a building, staring at his feet. But is it my fault? Is wanting to see my family such a bad thing?
He shook off the sadness and continued his tour. Curiosity, in the end, was a much stronger force than grief.
Hours later, he stopped beside a magnificent building designed in the ancient Damascene style. Keenan stared in awe, his hands tracing the intricate carvings of the stone pillars. Suddenly, a sound came from behind him. A chill ran down his spine. He froze, then slowly turned his head.
It was the man who had yelled at him earlier.
The man was panting, as if he had been running. He raised a hand in greeting. "Welcome, boy... I've been looking for you for hours."
Keenan stood in silence, his pulse quickening. The man approached, his voice thick with regret. "I apologize for shouting at you this morning. I thought you were just a thief from the outer districts."
Keenan, unused to such situations, whispered a simple reply: "I forgive you."
The man seemed relieved. "Would you come with me? I want to give you something... a token of my apology."
Keenan, trapped by his own shyness and curiosity, had no choice but to accept.
The man led him to his home. It was modest, but compared to the Peach House, it was a palace. He signaled for Keenan to enter. The boy stepped inside without removing his dusty shoes. The man's wife flinched, hiding her annoyance behind a strained smile.
"Welcome, little one. Please, come this way."
Keenan followed her and sat on a finely crafted chair, his eyes darting around the room with childlike wonder. His expressions were so raw, so innocent, that the man paused for a moment before entering with a warm smile.
"Do you like the house?"
Keenan nodded enthusiastically.
"Where are you from?" the man asked.
Keenan tensed. "From... from outside the Heart."
"North or South?"
Keenan didn't understand. "From the big entrance."
The man smiled again. "There are actually two main entrances. That's why I asked."
Keenan went silent, flushed with embarrassment. At that moment, the wife brought a small table of food and set it before him. She gave him a reassuring smile before leaving.
Keenan stared at the meal. He had never seen anything like it. The dishes were so beautiful he felt ashamed to touch them until the man urged him to eat.
Keenan began. He dipped his finger into the soup and licked it. As he was about to do it again, the man pointed to a spoon resting beside the bowl.
"Soup is eaten with that spoon," the man said, bewildered.
Keenan picked it up, dipping it into the bowl. When it came out full, he just stared at it, mesmerized.
"Have you never seen a spoon before in your life?" the man asked.
Keenan's cheeks turned crimson. He lowered the spoon. "Y... yes."
"It's written all over your face. Tell me... who is your father? Do you have a family?"
Keenan hesitated. He wanted to avoid the question, but his respect for elders won out. "Yes... I do. But I haven't met them yet."
The man's brows furrowed. "You haven't met them yet?!"
"Yes... Amr says that when we finish our work here, we will go back to where my family lives."
The man understood immediately. He looked away so Keenan wouldn't see his face. A cold dread for the boy settled in his chest. Keenan went back to his soup, unaware of the pity in the man's eyes.
Poor child, the man thought. His mind is too small to grasp such a blatant lie. But who is this 'Amr'? Who is this man exploiting him like this? Could he be a kidnapper?
The man stood up and walked to his wife, whispering urgently, "Something is wrong with this boy."
The wife, busy with her chores, looked up. "What exactly?"
"The boy lacks basic understanding," the man whispered in her ear. "Imagine... he can't see the obvious lie about his parents. He says a man named Amr told him they won't return to his family until the work is done."
The woman's eyes went wide. "What kind of man is this Amr?"
The man bit his lip. "I don't know, but I'm not letting him leave until I find out more. I suspect he's being exploited... or worse."
The wife grabbed his hand, her voice trembling. "Be careful, my dear. He could be a dangerous criminal."
The man looked back at Keenan, who was busily finishing his soup, his small frame hunched over the bowl.
"I won't let an innocent child's life be wasted at the hands of filth," the man said firmly.
To be continued...