“Frankly, this is what I mean.” Mark began, easing into the story.

“These two alchemists, along with another one who joined them later, continued a secret project that had begun centuries earlier, a project connected to this tower. And I believe they did not abandon it after arriving here. Still, we cannot say with absolute certainty that this tower is the continuation of their unknown work.”

Abraham wondered silently whether Mark was trying to test him with the weight of these revelations, yet he kept listening.

“But in my view, we can indeed say so—at least for two reasons. Just like the tower at the ancient universities of Harran, the foundation of this tower also contains two large magnets.”

“You may be right,” said Abraham. “What is the second reason?”

“When I stepped inside, I noticed that the inner walls were black. At first you might think, as I did, that someone had lit fires inside and the smoke had darkened the stone. But when I touched the walls, I realized it was not soot. And when I hesitantly tasted a bit of it, I recognized the taste of lead. Whoever built this tower mixed a significant amount of lead into the inner mortar. I have no idea where they found so much of it, but I do know that the tower in Harran was lined with lead in the very same way.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Abraham said, “but I also read about the Harran tower. There was no mention of magnets or lead. Could these details have been added by the people who told you the story, just to make it sound more mysterious?”

“Not every truth finds its way into books,” Mark replied. “And some things may have been removed over time.”

Abraham, both considering the living example of the Lord and recalling the history books he had read, found himself agreeing with Mark and nodded, accepting that this might indeed be the case.

The two explorers gazed one last time at the strange tower. They shared the same questions in their minds. Perhaps its purpose had been to climb to its highest point and observe the island all around. Maybe it had been built to spot an approaching ship or an enemy from the sea, or even to detect the lake monster mentioned in old legends and warn the islanders like an early alert system. But the heavy mist surrounding the island and the tower severely limited visibility, and there was no settlement nearby that could benefit from such a warning anyway.

Even if someone had intended to construct a warning tower, they would surely have built it on the Eastern Isle within the lake. There wasn’t a single tale saying that the first settlers had lived on the Outer Isle. Moreover, if the tower had been meant for observing the landscape, they would have built spiral stairways and added windows or balconies at certain points. The shallow protrusions on the walls that formed makeshift steps suggested that these were merely parts used during the tower’s construction.

Abraham also couldn’t help considering another possibility: perhaps the tower had been built out of a desire to reach heaven itself.

Abraham turned to Mark and said, “Perhaps you’ll remember; it’s written in the divine revelation,” before beginning his explanation:

“When Moses told Pharaoh that God is the sole sovereign of the heavens and the earth, ruling the universe with infinite knowledge and power, Pharaoh turned to his vizier Haman and said, ‘Build me a tall tower so that I may ascend and see whether the God this man speaks of truly dwells in the heavens.’ I don’t know whether such a tower was ever truly built, but as you know, his people erected enormous pyramids—structures filled with countless mysteries, rising toward the sky. Perhaps the text meant the pyramids when it spoke of a tower, or perhaps the tower built in that ancient tale was later destroyed.”

Then he asked, “What do you think? Could this have been built for such a purpose?”

Mark answered with a confident tone:

“Our ancestors built great temples and sanctuaries, yes—but I’ve never heard of them building a tower to check whether God sat above us. No matter how materialistic a person may be, anyone of sound mind knows that God isn’t seated on a throne above the clouds like the kings of old tales, watching the world from above.

And remember what I just told you: some of those early alchemists believed in a creative spirit that governed the world but did not interfere directly in human affairs. What they called a wandering, flowing energy is what monotheism calls an angel. What I mean is this: across ancient civilizations, despite their differences, there is a shared understanding—that an unseen power exists, and that smaller metaphysical beings obey this power or act in harmony with it to govern the universe and human life.”

“Yes, in a way it resembles the belief in monotheism. I was going to tell you earlier—if we look at it solely from the angle of believing in a single Creator, then yes, the faith of the alchemists is similar to monotheism. But unlike monotheism, the alchemists have no clear or standard belief regarding life after death or faith in the prophets.”

“Yes, I know that difference. As you said, they have no standard.”

Mark replied with a faint smile:
“As I said before, we are free people. As long as you see us as part of yourself, we have no problem with that. But I can only say this for some of us—not for all.”

Mark thought to himself:
“If you had met the ones known as the Others and judged alchemy by their ideology, you would run from us immediately—just as you would if you saw a sly serpent.”

To change the subject, he stood up and said:
“My friend, we must part ways with this tall and mysterious companion of ours. We still have to find out where the turtles are heading with such curiosity and eagerness.”

Abraham suddenly remembered the large clearing he had seen while looking at the island from atop the wall.
“Follow me. If I’m not mistaken, I think I know where we’ll find them,” he said.

The two explorers walked farther past the tower, and soon realized Abraham’s guess had been right. First they found the neatly moving procession of turtles, and then the place the creatures were heading toward. Abraham had not been mistaken—the spot where the turtles gathered was the very same clearing he had seen earlier.

They came upon a deep pit, nearly circular in shape, with a diameter slightly greater than a hundred meters. The turtles were clinging to the soil along the rim, trying to descend to the bottom. When the larger ones slipped and rolled down, the sound they made revealed that the pit was filled with water. Since they couldn’t see the bottom, they had no way of knowing whether the water was clean or murky—nor how it had collected there. Underground water, perhaps. Or rain.

Abraham had seen only a few turtles on their own island. Here, however, there were too many to count, and he couldn’t ignore the peculiarity of their behavior: instead of heading toward the lake, they moved back and forth between the ocean and this mysterious watery hollow. There had to be a reason. Yes, the lake water might contain poisonous substances—but he also knew people who had drunk that water for years and lived. So the turtles’ refusal to approach the lake could not be explained by mere instinct or what little wit such creatures possessed.

Why then, even the saltwater turtles—creatures of the sea—rushed out of the ocean and made their way to this pit as though drawn to a beloved?
Mark voiced a similar thought, though in his usual playful tone:

“Just like you rush out of the lake to go to Melisa, why do these turtles hurry here like that?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear the first part. As for the second—yes, I’m just as curious as you are. About how this pit formed… and what it is in that water that draws them.”

Mark stared thoughtfully into the enormous hollow.
“We can’t see the bottom, so there’s no way to estimate how deep it is. And with all this steam rising, the water must be hot—but how hot, we have no idea. So tell me, did we find the tower that leads to heaven just a moment ago… and now the boiling pit that leads to hell?”

Abraham pointed at the turtles crawling out of the pit and heading toward the sea.
“They hardly look like they’ve just escaped hell. Look at them—no burns, nothing scorched. If anything, they look livelier.”

Then he asked,
“Why do you think more turtles come here than birds, rabbits, or any other animals?”

Mark shrugged.
“No idea.”

Abraham continued,
“There must be some trait that sets turtles apart from the others. But what is it?”

“They’re shelled creatures,” Mark said. “If something attacks them, they can pull into their shells. I don’t know—maybe that?”

Abraham shook his head.

“I remember now—they call these creatures the living history. I read it in one of the parchments in the library. It said some turtle species live three or even four centuries. And if I’m not mistaken, their age can be estimated from the patterns on their shells.”

“By the way,” Mark said, “no matter what we talk about, you always claim you’ve read something about it in the library. Are there really that many books in there?”

He already knew the answer—he only asked to see whether Abraham would guard his secrets.

Abraham nodded.
“My father said the same thing. And just like I told him, I’ll tell you—if you ever sneak in with me, I’ll show you the whole library.”

Mark leaned his head back and scoffed.
“Forget it. I don’t want to get caught by the Lord and get myself into trouble. I’m already angry at myself for coming here!”

The two brave young men, standing near the stone wall, flinched when they heard a deep, rumbling roar.
They couldn’t tell where it came from the first time, but when the same sound echoed again, they knew for sure—it was coming from beyond the wall.

Mark read Abraham’s eyes—he knew Abraham wanted to find out what had made that sound.
Frowning, he rose to his feet.

“No offense, but Snow White’s Tower, the pit that leads to hell, and the mysterious turtle route… I’d say that’s enough adventure for one day. Even coming to this island was a huge risk. Don’t argue—night is already falling. Let’s get out of here and return to our own island… to our own world.”

Abraham agreed with his friend, and they began walking toward the lake’s edge. As they made their way back, the pyramids of Egypt—built centuries before their ancestors ever reached these lands—came to Abraham’s mind once more. Their colossal size had always been a mystery. Even if countless slaves had worked on them, lifting such massive stones would have been impossible. There weren’t enough rocks nearby to build so many pyramids, nor did the builders have the means to cut those enormous stones with such precision or transport them over long distances. The more Abraham thought about it, the more he suspected that beings from beyond the skies—far more advanced than humans—might have been the real builders.

“Who knows… maybe beings that aren’t human use this tower to descend from above,” he murmured, but he startled violently when a noise rustled through the reeds. He bumped into Mark. A moment later, they heard “quack, quack,” and realized a wild duck had taken flight. Mark, like Abraham, flinched at the sudden sound.

Pushing their small boat through the reeds, they climbed in, grabbed the oars, and began rowing. They chose silence—both to process everything they had seen and to avoid being spotted by Lord’s men. On the way here, Abraham had been preoccupied with the legend of the lake monster. Now he was troubled by something entirely different.

Could there be someone—or something—on this island orchestrating all these strange events? Someone unlike ordinary humans… someone not even the Lord knew about?
Were these the ones who truly wanted them cut off from the outside world and trapped on their island?