Mark couldn’t believe that someone as smart as Abraham had said something so foolish.

“Idiot Abraham! Then tell me—can you see our own island in the lake?”

With that question, Abraham realized his mistake. Not being able to see something didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Even on clear days without fog, he could barely see the lake’s edge—anything beyond that was impossible. He thanked Mark for reminding him of his own limits, of how small and blind a human’s field of vision truly was.

When Abraham shifted his focus from the sea and the distant shores to the island’s interior, his eyes widened. He blinked hard, rubbed his fists against his eyes, then looked again.

He couldn’t believe it—but it was there.

He knew the mind could imagine things that weren’t real when staring into the distance too long. Sometimes, when sunlight hit the lake just right, shimmering shapes would appear over the water, giving the illusion that something far away was drawing nearer. But this—
this was not one of those illusions.

It wasn’t small, it wasn’t faint, and it wasn’t fleeting.

Mark noticed the strange, fixed look in Abraham’s eyes.
Realizing his friend was seeing something truly unusual, he asked, with rising curiosity:

“What is it? Did something happen?”

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me. We should go—so I can touch it with my own hands and be sure of what I saw.”

A short distance beyond the trees, Abraham had noticed a strange clearing—perfectly round, with no trees and not even a trace of vegetation. He couldn’t explain it, but it made him think that something massive, like a huge boulder, might be sitting there.

He climbed down from the stone wall with great care and began making his way toward the curious sight. Mark followed, asking questions the entire time, torn between revealing what he knew and keeping his promise about the old legend he’d heard. Perhaps he wanted to hint that he already knew something—or simply claim he knew it first.

“Are you talking about the tower that rises into the sky?” he finally asked.

Now the roles were reversed; Abraham started pressing him with questions, while Mark fell into stubborn silence. Abraham suspected Mark was getting his revenge, but chose not to push him further.

“Let’s just reach this strange thing first,” he thought.
“I’ll deal with Mark afterward.”

Mark and Abraham reached a long stretch of woodland filled with oak-like trees. The thicket was dense enough to block out the sunlight; leaves and branches, deprived of air and light, hung damp and lifeless. The scent of wet foliage and half-rotten wood filled the air — a thick, foul smell like rotten eggs burned their noses.

As they pinched their nostrils shut and carefully pushed forward, Abraham said:

“What happened to that huge thing? Did the ground split open and swallow it?” Abraham muttered, while his mind spun through different explanations for the strange smell. Part of him still clung to the idea of a lake monster, yet believing such a creature could build a perfectly shaped structure like this was beyond absurd.

Mark followed behind, watching Abraham with tangled emotions. Telling the truth would make him a traitor in the eyes of the friends who had entrusted him with the secret. Abraham, on the other hand, would have seen the sharing of such knowledge as a contribution to understanding life and the universe — a valuable historical insight that could inspire new inventions. And sooner or later, the secret would be discovered anyway.

Hiding it from narrow-minded zealots like the Lord and his loyal followers made sense.
But hiding it from someone like Abraham — open to new ideas, respectful of all beliefs, and guided by virtue — felt utterly wrong. Still, a promise of secrecy left Mark with no choice.

He knew exactly how someone as sharp as Abraham might react once he learned these mysteries had been concealed for so long:

“They must be doing something immoral or forbidden to keep it hidden this tightly!”

“I can’t find it. Where did it go?” Abraham said in frustration, just as Mark lifted a hand and pointed through a small break in the leaves where the sky was visible.

“This is what you’re looking for,” he said.

Abraham shot Mark a look that clearly said, “We’ll talk about this later,” then realized they had about thirty meters more to walk toward the lake. He pulled aside the last branch—and there it was.

Before them stood a tall tower, about two meters in diameter. It stretched so high into the sky that even though the mist was light that day, its top disappeared into the clouds. When they walked around it, they found a small door on one side.

The thought of entering a tower that climbed all the way to the heavens unsettled them both. Under the pressure of his own subconscious fears, Mark murmured:

“I… I think this might be the way God comes down to earth.. We shouldn’t make Him angry.”

Abraham snapped back, “May God give you some common sense! How can you be so contradictory? When I say anything about faith, you call it foolish — yet you can say the strangest things about God without blinking!”

The two explorers pushed the door open together and cautiously peeked inside. What they saw was a hollow shaft rising straight upward into the sky. Although there were no windows and it was naturally darker than outside, there was still enough light to see.

When Abraham narrowed his eyes and focused, he noticed a series of steps carved into the inner wall of the tower, spiraling upward into the heights. But the steps were slick with moisture—covered in moss and wild weeds. It was obvious no one had climbed them in a very long time.

The footholds themselves were thin and narrow, and the thick layer of slippery moss made climbing nearly impossible. Abraham pointed at the moss and said:

“Don’t even think about climbing up there and trying to reach the heavens. You’ll end up dead, not divine!” Abraham warned.

Mark waved him off, as if pushing the words aside.
“I can’t deal with you right now,” he muttered.

Abraham leaned forward and looked down — and what he saw sent a shiver through him. At the base of the tower, resting on the inner ledge, was a thin wooden platform. It was supported by four protruding stones jutting inward from the tower wall. A narrow staircase made of small stones descended from the platform, and at its base lay fragments of bone.

The lower section was even darker, so Abraham lit his torch to illuminate the pit below.

Countless possibilities rushed through his mind.
In many belief systems — including the monotheistic traditions he knew — hell was thought to lie beneath the earth, while paradise was above the skies. It was irrational, perhaps… but there could be an opening to the underworld here, a doorway into hell.

Maybe someone had built this very structure to give physical form to certain metaphysical ideas described in sacred texts — to help common people visualize realms beyond the physical world.

Or perhaps, as Mark sometimes hinted, it had been built for far stranger purposes… perhaps even for the blasphemous ambition of a man trying to become a god.

A person might fear the things they hear — even if they believe them to be made-up stories. What if it’s true?
That single thought is enough to keep anyone from testing a terrifying tale in real life. For that very reason, neither Abraham nor Mark had ever dared enter the mysterious cave, the haunted forest, or the lake said to house a monster.

But now Abraham gathered his courage and decided to explore what he half-jokingly called “the gate to hell.”

He climbed down a few steps, then jumped — expecting to land on soft soil.
Instead, the sound beneath his feet and the strange hardness he felt told him he was standing on something solid… but not stone, not rock. It was a different kind of hardness altogether.

He also realized, from the way he slid slightly toward the tower wall and only just managed to regain his balance, that the ground beneath him was uneven.

Just then, the knife in his pocket slipped and clattered to the floor. When he bent to pick it up, he felt an unseen force tugging at the iron handle, pulling it downward.
To confirm his suspicion, he let the knife hang freely.

The floor was not flat at all — it consisted of two half-circles slanting upward toward each other, forming a raised ridge where they touched.

Watching from above, Mark spoke before Abraham could say a word:

“There are two magnets down there, shaped like facing half-circles. That’s why they pulled on your iron-handled knife.”

Abraham nodded in agreement and said,
“Yes, you’re right — and the walls are red. There are also bones scattered around.”

But as he spoke, he suddenly realized what he had missed at first.
“That red… it’s blood,” he whispered, then began to stammer:

“Th-this… what kind of madness is this? Some lunatic must have killed an animal and smeared its blood on the walls. But the bones aren’t in a pile—they’re scattered everywhere. And bits of flesh are stuck to the walls, too. This isn’t just insanity—how did anyone even do this? It looks like the animal exploded and the pieces flew everywhere…”

He turned to Mark, his expression silently asking, “Is that even possible?”

Abraham continued:
“Maybe some kind of ritual was performed here. I’ve read papyrus scrolls in the library about people who murdered cats in brutal rituals. Could this be something like that? Even if we haven’t heard of anyone performing such rites on the island… you know as well as I do that some people are involved in secret practices.”

Mark couldn’t help thinking to himself,
“Is this why they let you read those books? To fill your head with stories about cats, dogs, and strange rituals?”

His fear had come true. When people encountered events they could not understand, they would immediately assume that the ones involved in secret dealings were responsible—and execute them without question.

“Buddy, not everyone who keeps secrets is evil,” Mark said. “For example, we came here secretly, hiding it from the Lord and the islanders. Does that make us bad? And you know how some young men have disappeared from the island recently… what, are they saying we kidnapped them?”

He picked up one of the bones from the ground and asked,
“What animal do you think this belongs to?”

Without waiting for an answer, he continued,
“It doesn’t look like the bones of cats or dogs—the kinds used in those rituals. There’s no skull or anything like that.”

Then, with a teasing grin, he added,
“If you ask me, this is the same leftover bone your stomach performs rituals on—maybe not every day, but at least once a week. Why are you staring at me like that? It’s a chicken bone! No ritual uses a chicken.”

Abraham, perhaps trying to cover up his naïveté and not be the one embarrassed, replied,
“Maybe when they couldn’t find a cat or dog, they told their god, ‘Let this one slide for now. We’ll make it up to you later.’”

But when Mark didn’t laugh, Abraham added quickly,
“I was trying to make a joke. I didn’t mean to mock anyone’s beliefs.”
Then he asked,
“So, what do you think?”

“What really catches my attention are these two giant magnets. Don’t you see? This tower rising meters into the sky seems to have been built solely for these two magnets.”

Abraham said:
“I know you very well. Give me some credit — you clearly know something, but you won’t tell me. So of course I start making my own theories.”

Mark looked at him and then said:
“Alright…” and began to explain:
“Centuries ago, our ancestors fled the oppression in the lands of Mesopotamia and arrived on this island by coincidence. We know who was on the ship, but there were two others whom only a few knew about. They were called alchemists. Like their companions, they had to hide themselves, because the people saw them as those who defied God. Not only did they isolate them, they also wanted to kill them brutally. Unfortunately, some alchemists were crucified, and so the people carried out their intentions.”

Abraham interrupted:
“I’ve read papyri telling about the savior who appeared during our ancestors’ escape from oppression and was crucified. So what, was he an alchemist too?” he said, shaking his head.

“That only thing left was to call him an alchemist,” Abraham said.

Mark replied:
“No, you’re listening incorrectly. I never said that. And you, like everyone else, are missing something important. Please focus on this sentence,” he said, then continued:
“Alchemy is not a religion or an ideology. Alchemists studied astronomy, the nature of the soul, mathematics, creation, chemistry, physics, and many other sciences. Some of them believed in God, others worshipped stars, and some were naturalists. What I’m saying is that ‘alchemist’ is simply a general title given to anyone who pursued various branches of knowledge. For that reason, even a prophet could be called an alchemist. So calling Jesus an alchemist should not be seen as contradicting monotheism.”

There were details Mark was hesitant to mention. He feared that if he spoke about the faction among alchemists known as “the others,” Abraham might develop prejudice against all alchemists. So he chose to remain silent.

Abraham said:
“But today, when people hear the word ‘alchemy,’ they think of mythology and secret arts. And we know they often dealt with spirits.”

“Aristarchus is one of the earliest known alchemists,” Mark continued.
“He disagreed with Aristotle. He claimed that the sun does not revolve around the earth, but the earth revolves around the sun. And I agree — the seasons and days being so perfectly ordered makes more sense that way. He even said that a force pulls everything — especially the seas — toward the earth’s center, and that this is why nothing on this spherical world drifts away into the void.”

“So you’re saying the earth is not flat but round?”
“Yes. Write it down somewhere — don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Mark said with a confident expression.

“Alright, now get to the connection between everything you’ve told me and this tower.”
“As I said earlier, the two alchemists brought with them many books, parchment tubes, and scrolls when they came to this island. Because of people’s prejudices, they kept both their writings and some of their beliefs hidden from others. Still, they shared their experience, knowledge, and findings with a select few they deemed worthy. Meanwhile, something strange happened — these two alchemists suddenly disappeared, leaving many mysteries behind.”

“What mysteries?”
“It’s said they discovered the elixir of immortality.”

“If I say, ‘Another legend, more mysteries, and more alchemists,’ you’ll get upset, so I’ll stay quiet,” Abraham said, then added:
“So? Did they actually find the elixir of immortality?”

“I don’t know,” Mark replied, and continued his explanation.

“I’m getting to the real issue — the tower. You know that the world’s first university was in Harran, in the southeast of the place known as Natolia, where some of our ancestors once lived. There was a structure there that remained standing even centuries later.”

Abraham interrupted:
“Yes, I read about it — a tall tower. I even saw its drawing in a scroll,” he said with a thoughtful expression. He realized that the tower here might have been inspired by that one, built by those who first came to the island.

Mark continued:
“There’s a detail you don’t know. Let me ask you first — what was the purpose of that tower?”

Abraham shrugged:
“Obviously to study the sun and other planets, to observe them more clearly. We can say it was used for astrology.”

“Yes, that was one of its purposes, as you said, but they had other intentions as well.”