The young inventor remembered the bloodstains they had seen in the tower on the Outer Isle. They had never managed to find a reasonable explanation for the splattered marks on the wall. And he also recalled how Mark had hinted—though indirectly—at certain rituals, not as bloody perhaps, but unsettling all the same.

His parents now supported him and had even promised to help him stand against the Lord, yet he felt it was too soon to tell them he had gone to the Outer Isle, or that they had abandoned their plan to sail to the Island of Qabil at the last moment. Instead, he asked:

“When was the last death?”

“A few days ago,” Petrus replied, then quickly added:
“Don’t tell me you’re planning what I think you’re planning!”

Abraham gave a faint smile.
“The fact that you understand I’m about to suggest opening the grave means you’re finally beginning to understand me, Father.”

Petrus and Linda were muttering to themselves,
“Where did that girl come from to disturb our peace?”
yet at the same time they were angry at their own mistakes.

Abraham couldn’t resist teasing his parents:

“Are you afraid of the dead? Don’t your white hairs already remind you of that reality?”

In truth, Abraham himself feared opening the grave and looking at the victim. But now that he had spoken boldly, he couldn’t act contrary to his own words. With his parents watching him from a distance, he bent down and examined the body.

“Our guess was right,” he said. “There is a star on her chest—but it’s six-pointed, not eight.”

Abraham then remembered something else Mark had mentioned about the star deities:

“The eight-pointed star represents the great god Jupiter. That’s why the sacrifice offered to him is considered more valuable than those offered to the other stars, which are six-pointed.”

After recalling this, he asked again:

“Who is this woman? If she bore the eight-pointed star, she must have been someone important.”

Petrus and Linda pretended not to hear the question, but the curiosity had already lodged itself firmly in Abraham’s mind. He had to know. He mentally added it to the long list of questions he was determined to find answers to.

Even though the sacrifices bore star symbols, unlike the rituals Mark described, these markings were carved on the bodies after death. Most likely the one who did this was the Lord’s servant—the gravekeeper and washer of the dead. Even if this truth came to light, people would not care much; since the marks were drawn after death, the townsfolk believed they held no real meaning. What truly needed proving was the poison mixed into the water.

Because of his youth, there were moments when Abraham thought about kidnapping one of the Lord’s men, forcing a confession out of him, and making the whole island listen.

“But let’s say I somehow manage to abduct one of those huge men,” he thought. “Let’s say the people even hear their confessions. Then what? In their eyes, I’ll become someone who resorts to violence just like the Lord. In other words, they’ll see me as another version of him. And why would anyone believe me when the original Lord already exists? No… I must not use his methods. I must not give him the violent atmosphere he’s waiting for.”

Abraham wanted to go to the château not only to save Odessa and Melisa, but also to take water from the wells—especially the third well, the one he suspected contained the poison. But the poison did not show its effect immediately. The elderly who entered the place called the Grave Well died only after nearly a year—this fact revealed everything.

He could not say to the people, “Let’s wait a year and see what happens.” The Lord would destroy them long before that time. While Abraham was calculating all this, Mark arrived, panting heavily. After catching his breath, he began to speak:

“Where have you been? The whole island is in chaos. Two men came from outside by boat.”

Abraham could tell from Mark’s frantic arrival that he was about to say something unexpected—but not this unexpected:

“What are you saying? Forget your life, my life, or my mother’s life—this is something never before seen in the history of the island! Except for that wild Odessa’s stories, of course. So? What do they say? Why have they come?”

“They said there is water everywhere outside,” Mark continued. “They’ve traveled to many places, but this is the first time—apart from their own island—that they’ve found people living somewhere.”

“What kind of people are they? I mean, do they look like us physically?”

At that moment, Mark almost allowed his imagination to take over—he wanted to describe the extraterrestrial beings he’d always dreamed of, even the philosophical idea that life on earth had originated in the stars. He even considered weaving a tale full of stars and gods. But hearing the tension in Abraham’s voice, he gave up on the idea.

“One of them is dark-skinned,” he said instead, “with a thin mustache, a short beard, brown eyes, slightly prominent cheekbones, a straight nose, hair neither long nor short, average height—handsome, I’d say.”
He rubbed the fingers of his right hand together as he tried to recall more details.
“Yes… his name is Noah.”

“The other one is blond, mustached, with a thick beard, green eyes, a crooked nose, curly hair, short, with protruding ears. His name is Seth.”

“Both names appear in the holy books,” Abraham said. “Over time, Noah became Nuh. And Seth is known as the first person to utter the name of God. Though how accurate that is, I can’t say. According to alchemists like you, he was considered the master of all alchemists.”

He gave Mark a look as if saying, ‘I knew you’d mention this, so I said it first.’

Mark, meanwhile, thought to himself,
“If only you knew how much more there is about him that you don’t know…”

But he continued speaking about the newcomers.

“They speak a language similar to ours,” Mark said, “but it was difficult to understand them. Their words were a mix—Hebrew, Greek, Arabic—all tangled together.”

Abraham moved his jaw from side to side before he asked:
“So, who do you think is lying? Odessa or these men?”

“As we said before, Odessa is a very attractive girl, but strange—she scares me. What the men said matches much of what the Lord has told us. Maybe they’re working for him. Maybe it’s all a setup designed to glorify the Lord in the eyes of the people.”

“Then what would Odessa gain by lying about people living beyond the island?” Abraham asked. “If she had said, ‘Help me return to my homeland,’ we would still have helped her. And she really was intelligent and well-informed. Even if she lied, I’m certain she had a plan.”

Then he asked:
“Did the men come here with only a small boat?”

“No. The thing they called a ship was destroyed in a storm. The others couldn’t survive. These two reached here by chance in a small boat. First, they came to the Outer Isle. Then, when they saw smoke, they thought someone must be living here. They crossed the lake in their rowboat and arrived.”

“How did they see smoke in this fog?”

“Well… sometimes the fog does clear for a moment. They must have caught that moment.”

“I think it’s suspicious,” Abraham said. “Most likely, they are the Lord’s men.”

“This seems almost impossible. My father worked both in the château and in the fields, and there wasn’t a single person on the island he hadn’t seen, nor a single place he hadn’t been. He said with certainty that these men are not from our island. The Island of Qabil isn’t so large that the Lord could hide secret men for decades. And these men look to be around thirty years old.

Except for certain parts of the forest near your home, the only place you and I haven’t visited is the château. I don’t believe they could have stayed hidden there for thirty years.”

“To be honest,” Mark continued, “I did wonder if they might have come from the Outer Isle or the Island of Qabil. But you saw the Outer Isle—there were only a few kinds of fruit and vegetables growing there. We didn’t see any houses or huts. And that tower isn’t a place where someone can live permanently—besides, no one can survive without fresh water.”

Abraham agreed with Mark:

“If they had come to this island from the Island of Qabil, they would have had to step into the forest near my home—just as Odessa did.”

Then he voiced another possibility that had crossed his mind:

“Odessa never clearly explained why she left her island. What if these men came to find her—because she escaped?”

Mark said:

“Yes, that’s possible too. In one way or another, they seem to know something about our island. Perhaps they wanted to make it look like they arrived from the far side of the Island of Qabil to hide the fact that they came from there. But I doubt it. Even long before our ancestors came to this island, there were many different nations in Mesopotamia and in the northern lands of Constantine, and at least ten different languages were spoken.

Do you really think such a coincidence makes sense? Only the people of two islands survived—both speaking nearly the same language—while everyone else perished under the waters? This fits exactly with the slogan our Lord always uses.”

“What slogan is that?”

“‘God has chosen my people as the superior race. We are above the others, and I am His representative!’ We’ve heard him say it many times. He’ll claim that his people weren’t sinful, that’s why they weren’t destroyed.”

Mark suddenly began laughing to himself.

Abraham waved his hand sharply in the air. “Have you gone mad?” he asked. Mark had to explain:

“When the Lord approached the men, I was standing there too. The way he looked at them was strange. Only a few people like me would have noticed because of the crowd, but the Lord clearly touched one of the men on the butt.”

“Oh, don’t exaggerate. His hand might have brushed against him by accident. Don’t tell me the Lord is interested in his own gender—like the people of Lot. You’re making me sick just thinking about it!”

“I’m telling you, I have my reasons. The Lord didn’t just brush against him—he squeezed him. The men realized something was off and turned around, but what could they do? They had just arrived in an unfamiliar place; they couldn’t openly react to someone in a position of authority. And besides, I don’t think they even understood what he did.”

Mark could tell that Abraham’s mind was elsewhere. More accurately, he knew Abraham was already planning how to rescue them—because he also knew Melisa was in the dungeon. In truth, another reason Mark had come was to help him with this plan.

He told Abraham that his father had overheard the Lord ordering that no one, except a few guards, was to remain in the château tonight. This meant that tonight would be the best opportunity to free Odessa and Melisa from the dungeon.

Abraham said he agreed with Mark, but added:

“Even if there are only a few guards, how are we supposed to get past them and rescue the girls from the cellar?”

Mark began describing a plant they had seen on the Outer Isle:

“The plant whose roots grow upward and whose shape resembles that of a small dwarf is called mandrake. In different civilizations it’s known as ‘the jinn’s egg’ or ‘the maiden’s breath.’ It’s even mentioned in the Torah.

To benefit from these plants, one must be extremely careful. They are difficult to extract. A ditch about one to one and a half meters deep must be dug around it so the plant can be removed in one piece. Otherwise—if the plant is injured or damaged—it spoils and rots.

To prevent accidental harm to the plant, meat and the scent of blood are placed into the ditch. A dog is then lowered inside; driven by the smell, it clears the soil around the plant, leaving only the mandrake intact.”

Mark ended his explanation with a tragic detail:

“Unfortunately… the dog dies.”

Abraham looked at Mark with anger:

“Are you making fun of me? What do I care about this plant? And where are you even supposed to find such a dog-killing thing? Couldn’t you think of a normal plant to talk about?” Abraham said.

“You still don’t understand? This plant causes extremely powerful hallucinations and puts a person to sleep. You won’t find anything better for knocking out those guards! This way, we can rescue them without harming anyone.” Mark replied, then added:

“The real problem is finding the plant, removing it without damaging it, and extracting its essence.”

Abraham placed his hands on his hips.
“Yes, you’re right. But with so many problems already on our shoulders, we can’t risk going back to that isle again. And besides, we don’t even have a boat.”

Mark stood up with a faint smile—his expression caught somewhere between hope and despair.

“Actually… I saw this plant growing in a corner of the farm. I don’t know who planted it or why, but clearly the Lord might be using it for hallucinations—like those visions of flying above the clouds he’s always talking about. Anyway, we could find it there. But as I said, it’s difficult to extract properly. Even if we sneak in, we won’t have enough time to remove it in the right way.”

Just as Mark finished speaking, he suddenly stood up respectfully. His posture told Abraham that someone of importance had arrived. Expecting it to be his mother, Abraham also rose and turned around.

“Mother, I was going to come to you—” he began, but could not finish his sentence.

He froze. Standing before him was Melisa's mother, her eyes filled with desperate pleading.

“Please… bring my daughters back to me. I can’t live without them.”

Abraham didn’t know what to say. Mark, although slightly surprised, didn’t seem nearly as shocked as Abraham. He gave his friend a meaningful look and said:

“Don’t worry, ma’am. We will try to save them.”

Abraham couldn’t decide what to be astonished by: Melisa’s mother escaping from the farm and coming all the way to this forbidden forest? Her using the word daughters, revealing that not only Melisa but also Odessa was her child? Mark acting as though everything were normal, comforting the woman as if nothing unusual had happened? Or the fact that the same Mark who never wanted to break the Lord’s rules was now courageously willing to rescue the girls from the dungeon and speaking so easily with the mother of a Sealed family?

That morning Abraham had felt the happiness of solving many mysteries, and only a few hours later he found new ones taking root in his mind again.

The woman looked at Abraham, almost begging him to help. Abraham responded with phrases whose meanings weren’t entirely clear even to himself. The woman saw, from his blushing face and shifting colors, that he was embarrassed. She understood from his expressions—and from the uncertain, unnecessary words that followed—that he was flustered by her sudden appearance.

Not wanting to make him more uncomfortable, she was about to leave. Abraham felt relieved that she had not accused him by saying:

“My daughter spoke to you last—what did you tell her that made her throw herself into the dungeon?”

But when he noticed Mark looking at him as if to say, “Aren’t you going to say something?”
Abraham finally collected himself.

“Please wait,” Abraham said. “Could you help us with this?”
And without waiting for her answer, he asked a second question:

“Are you aware of the mandrake plant on the farm?”

The woman answered immediately, as if she had been expecting this very question:

“Yes. We plant it at the Lord’s request. When the time comes, it is removed by lowering dogs into the ditch dug around it.”

He wanted to ask, “What does the Lord use it for?” but decided this was not the right moment.
They assumed she knew exactly how the essence of the plant was prepared, and indeed, she described every detail.

Abraham said to her:

“What if you put its essence directly into the milk? That way, the people in the château would drink it, experience hallucinations, then fall asleep. And we could enter the château easily and rescue your daughters.”

The woman nodded, showing she understood everything perfectly. She told them the essence was difficult to prepare and that she would have to hurry if she was to have it ready in time. Then she left quickly.

Abraham couldn’t stop himself from voicing what he was thinking:

“She didn’t ask a single question—not how such a plant could be so effective, nor how we plan to enter afterward. It’s as if she didn’t need to ask because she already knew what was in my mind.”

Mark, wanting to pull Abraham out of his suspicious thoughts, said:

“Well, if she can’t trust her future son-in-law, who else should she trust?”

With a sharp look, Abraham said to Mark:

“Don’t think you’re fooling me. I know for certain that her coming here wasn’t a coincidence. You have some sort of connection with that woman. We’ll uncover that too—your secrets will come out eventually. You’re a good person, and things are complicated enough already, so I won’t deal with you for now.”

Mark seemed to understand the message and replied:

“Fate… It must be fate that she came here and offered us help at the most critical moment.”

Abraham cut him off:

“You mentioned the mandrake plant… and what a coincidence, it just happens to grow at the farm. Then someone from the farm arrives here at exactly the right time. Events lining up one after another like pieces of a plan—there must be a will behind all this. These things can’t be coincidences!”

Mark grinned.

“All right then—that will belongs to God.”

Abraham answered:

“No one denies that. But God’s will operates through the small wills of human beings.”
Then he gave Mark a meaningful look—as if to say:
‘So who are the human beings whose small wills are planning all this?’

Just when Mark felt cornered, Petrus arrived and rescued him.

“Did that woman just leave? Who was she?” he asked.

Abraham nodded.
“She asked some questions about the plants. Then she left.”

Petrus wasn’t satisfied with the answer, but he kept quiet so as not to start another argument with Abraham. At the same time, he was trying to remember where he had seen that woman before. Not months ago—years ago.
But who was she?