The young inventors had finalized their plan. Linda came to see Abraham one last time and told him he needed to be careful. Petrus asked again:

“Are you sure? I think you’re rushing this,”
trying once more to dissuade him. But supported by Linda’s confidence, the brave young man decided to carry out the plan.

Abraham and Mark believed the news they had received was correct — the château seemed unusually quiet, and perhaps only a few servants remained inside. Seeing the two guards at the château gate yawning repeatedly, the courageous pair understood that the guards had drunk the milk just as planned.

As they crept a little closer, they overheard the guards and burst into quiet laughter.

“What’s happening to me? I feel like I’m on the clouds. I reach out with one hand — wine. I reach out with the other — a maiden!”

“Don’t even ask. Something is happening to me too. I can barely keep my eyes open. Just now, my dead wife passed before my eyes — and she looked so young. Did we die? Pinch me!”

But when the guard turned around, he saw that his friend was already asleep.

“Hey, wake up, man—”
He didn’t finish the sentence before he, too, began to fall asleep.

Mark whispered a warning to Abraham, telling him to wait just a little longer. The Lord always made his servants drink milk every morning and evening so they would stay strong and healthy. He himself never neglected this routine.

“Most likely,” Mark said, “he offered the milk to the two newcomers as well.”

Mark explained that the mandrake’s effects took longer to overpower men who were heavy and strong. If someone on the verge of sleep happened to see them, he would realize after waking that it hadn’t been a hallucination. So they needed to wait a little longer to be safe.

Abraham thought to himself:
“Look at Mark — suddenly he’s an expert on this plant.”

After waiting a while, Mark and Abraham put on their masks so no one would recognize them, then headed for the gate. With a slight prod they understood that the guards were deeply asleep and relaxed. To avoid being seen, they dragged the men inside and shut the door.

Since Petrus avoided giving him any information about the château, Abraham had learned everything from his mother. As she had described, the ground was paved with stone, and the sides of the path were lined with roses and carnations. After walking a little, they came upon two doors—one to the left and one straight ahead.

The door on the left led to a long winding path that eventually reached the back garden and the water wells. Abraham had hoped to see the wells and take samples if he found time, but when he checked the door, he saw that the thick, solid-looking gate was barred from the inside. The tall, sharp spikes surrounding the top made it nearly impossible to climb over. He abandoned the idea.

The door before them had to be the entrance to the main building of the château. But when he turned the handle, it didn’t open.

“Oh no… if this one is barred from inside as well, everything we’ve done is wasted,” they whispered.

But then they noticed something: unlike the other places, the railing above this door wasn’t very high. Abraham turned to Mark—only to see him already perched atop the railing.

“My God, what agility!” he couldn’t help saying.

A moment later, he heard Mark land on the other side, followed by the sound of the bolt sliding open. The door swung inward, and Abraham slipped inside. They stepped over a sleeping servant on the floor, careful not to wake him. A few steps in, they saw the stone walls of the château to their left. After another seven or eight meters, a green door came into view.

Remembering what his mother had told him, Abraham understood that this unbarred door would be easy to enter. Once inside, they found a long corridor with doors leading to various rooms. In the middle of the hallway was a staircase—downward led to the cellar and the dungeon, while upward led to the second and third floors, where no one except a few chosen servants were allowed.

The two brave friends moved forward with the same care and caution they had shown on the day they visited the Outer Isle. On the island, if an animal or an unknown creature suddenly appeared, all they could do was run—after all, they carried neither knives nor any other weapon. But tonight, their greatest shield was the mask on their faces. At the slightest movement, their first reaction would be to flee.

Abraham descended toward the cellar to reach the dungeon, but he encountered a surprise he had not expected. In front of him stood a massive door—thick, heavy, and secured with a large lock that seemed impossible to overcome. Even though they pressed against it with hope, the door did not budge in the slightest.

While the two of them exchanged helpless looks, unsure of what to do, they heard groaning sounds from the upper floors. Abraham pointed upward with his hand and whispered:

“May be they’re up there. Since we’re already inside and everything is safe for now, let’s check the upper floors.”

They reached the second floor—a place that neither they nor almost anyone on the island had ever seen. The second floor had only two doors, which meant the rooms must be far larger than those below. Although both boys acted brave, each carried a small tremor of fear inside. But it was the kind of fear one secretly enjoys. They both loved stories about spirits and jinn, and now, each imagined a floating spirit lurking behind the door.

Perhaps it was the soul of a dead islander… or a cursed demon.

They opened the door slowly at first, then quickly. Instead of the ghostly beings they expected, they were met with piles of stone.

Dozens of idols stood before them. Even though they could not see their faces from behind, their shapes revealed they were human figures. When Abraham stepped forward and examined the first dozen, he realized they were all the same person. Looking at the remaining rows, he saw that every idol bore the face of a single man.

With a grin, Abraham said:

“I’m asking you a very simple question. Guess who all these idols depict?”

Mark answered without a moment of thought:

“The Lord!”

Abraham gestured toward the statues.
“Everything is right before our eyes. Look at the man—he’s determined to turn himself into a god and the people into idol-worshipers.”

“Don’t say that. Maybe he just wants to be remembered, even if he claims to be immortal,” Mark replied, tapping one of the idols playfully on the back of the neck.

Abraham smirked mockingly:

“Oh, please. He doesn’t even hide his intentions. ‘Without me you would all die,’ he says. Then he has his heralds proclaim that he is the messenger of God. The more he lied in God’s name, the darker his heart became — and eventually he completely lost his way.”

Mark had already moved toward the next room, thinking:

“Let’s see what else we’ll find.”

Wanting to show some courage, he opened the door without waiting for Abraham.
Abraham peered into the room from behind him.
What he could see was a depiction of the sun surrounded by rays and several objects whose meaning he could not yet understand.

But just then a new groaning sound echoed from the upper floor. Mark quickly closed the door and headed for the stairs.
When he saw that Abraham followed without protest, he was relieved.

“That was close,” he thought. “If he had seen the skull by the door and the other ritual objects, he would have been terrified — and I’d never hear the end of it.”

They hoped the groaning sounds belonged to Odessa or Melisa, but from the depth of the voice, it seemed more like a man than a girl. At the top of the stairs, they were surprised to see a pink door. A door of such a gentle color was the last thing they expected in a place as grim and oppressive as this château.

The door opened by a light touch, and they stepped inside. On their right was a shallow pool. But the true shock came when they turned their heads left. Abraham immediately shut his eyes, unable to bear the disgusting sight before him.
“Mark… am I seeing this wrong?” he called out.

When Mark didn’t answer, Abraham looked again. The revulsion he felt, the deep instinctive disgust rising from within, showed him that what he was seeing was not a misunderstanding — but something truly vile.

He couldn’t count how many people were in the room, but he could see clearly that they were all men, and half-naked. Among them, Abraham recognized the Lord. Two people in his arms appeared unconscious. Two others lay facedown on the floor, their faces hidden.

Then he heard Mark’s voice behind him:
“The bearded men over there — those are the newcomers I told you about. I told you, and you didn’t believe me. The Lord is a pervert! His interest isn’t in the opposite sex — you can figure out the rest. Since their hands are tied, these men definitely aren’t his servants. I think one reason he hasn’t killed them is because of his twisted desires. They look different from the people of the island — taller, stronger. That must have caught his attention.”

As Abraham raised his head and looked around more carefully, his shock turned into sudden joy. He rubbed his eyes and looked again and again. When he realized he wasn’t mistaken, his face lit up with the happiness of reunion.

The groaning they heard came from these men. He hadn’t found what he came for tonight — but he had found something else they had searched for for weeks, even months: one of the three missing youths of the island. He gently turned the faces of the other two lying on the floor and felt a rush of relief —They had found all three of the missing youths.

Abraham realized that the half-conscious young man was his friend Nikola. When he moved closer, both the boy’s eyes and his faint whisper told him what he needed to know — he was asking for help, begging them to save him. Abraham guessed he must have drunk only a little of the milk and therefore resisted the full effect of the mandrake.

While Abraham was calculating how to carry all three youths on his back, he suddenly panicked when he couldn’t see Mark anywhere.

“Mark? Mark!” he whispered urgently.

Mark popped his head out from behind a pile of clothes beside the bed.
Seeing Abraham’s alarm, and wanting to avoid any misunderstanding among so many clouded minds, Mark explained:

“I’m not interested in the newcomers themselves — only in their clothes.”

“What are you doing? What are you trying to take out of their pockets?”

Mark had discovered a hidden pocket inside one of the men’s jackets. He reached in and pulled out an object shaped like a banana, but firm, straight, and with a thin string about ten or fifteen centimeters long hanging from its end.

“I’m not exactly sure what it is,” he said, “but we’ll find out. I’ll take all of them — we’ll learn by experimenting.”

Noticing from Abraham’s stare that he still owed an explanation, Mark added:

“This isn’t called stealing. It’s called borrowing — or exchanging gifts.”

Abraham was about to say, “Don’t fool yourself — or me!”

when they heard a scream:“Help! Please, help!”

Both instantly recognized the voice. It was coming from the cellar — and it was Melisa.

The two brave boys had to make a choice. They couldn’t carry three missing youths and the two outsiders; five unconscious men were impossible to move. So they chose the three missing island youths. It was difficult to carry them, but they could not possibly choose between them — they had to take all three. Thankfully, the half-conscious one could walk with support.

Abraham’s mind was on Melisa. The extra burst of strength his mind and heart gave him — combined with his desire to help others — allowed him to carry two unconscious youths down to the entrance floor in a single breath.

Mark, with the half-conscious boy leaning on him, followed him downstairs immediately.

“My friend, I have bad news,” Mark said. “I saw through the window— the Lord’s men outside are heading this way. They’ll be here in two or three minutes. If we carry the youths to the back fence, no one will see us in the darkness of the night. Then we can return them to their families, and they’ll tell everyone what kind of filth the Lord truly is.”

At that moment, they heard a new voice rising from the cellar:

“Abraham, is that you?”

Unsure of how to answer, Abraham hurried down to the dungeon and approached the iron door. Through the small barred opening in the center, he saw Melisa.

As if she had heard everything, she spoke quickly:

“We’re both fine. They didn’t hurt us. My sister was in terrible condition when she first arrived, but she’s better now. I think you should leave. I have no doubt you’ll find a way to return and help us.”

Then she wrapped her fingers around the bars, pushing and pulling them gently as she said:

“Go on now—don’t stop!”

Mark grabbed Abraham by the arm, trying to pull him away, when Melisa’s last words reached them:

“You can trust the newcomers. They are good men!”

Abraham rushed the unconscious youths out of the château and toward the wooded area behind it. But as he carried them, a new question pierced his mind:

“How could Melisa know the men from outside? They weren’t kept in the dungeon. Even if they met there, how could she be so certain they’re good? Just like everything else on this island, something about these men isn’t normal…”