After listening to Noah’s stories, Abraham had shaken off his earlier state. The focus with which he listened showed not only that he liked what he heard, but that he was contemplating the lessons drawn from it. Yet a shadow of doubt stirred within him—Were these stories true, or just stories?—and as the darker side of his thoughts tried to surface, he asked:

“I liked your stories… but in the end, they’re still just stories.”

Noah immediately understood his concern.

“In the divine revelations and in the words of the prophets, there are parables—stories meant to help us better understand what is already clearly taught. For example, the verse we rely on when speaking about how rewards increase when we do good under difficult conditions or bring great benefit to society is this:

‘The example of those who spend their wealth in the way of Allah is like a single grain that sprouts seven ears; in every ear are a hundred grains. Allah multiplies (the reward) for whom He wills. And Allah is Vast, All-Knowing.’ (2:261)

When we say wealth, we should understand it as everything a person possesses—not only property or belongings. Human emotions, physical abilities, knowledge, intellect… everything entrusted to an individual falls under this category.

From this perspective, the helplessness that follows hardship, the generosity that springs from wealth, the modesty that refuses to bow to immorality, the encouragement to goodness that comes from knowledge, the patience born from disability—all of these can make one’s reward grow many times over.”

Abraham finally asked the question that had crossed his mind before but he’d never had the chance to voice:

“Would you tell me about the last divine scriptures you mentioned—and their prophets as well?”

Noah replied,
“I could begin by speaking of their compassion and mercy… but even days or months would not suffice.”
He had just begun when Seth’s voice sounded from outside the room. Noah gently concluded, “Later, inşallah…” Abraham understood then that there was some kind of spiritual or theological difference between Noah and Seth.

Seth had been lying down for a long while; the pounding in his head had only just begun to fade. As he walked down the corridor between the small rooms, he offered a greeting and stepped into the chamber where Odessa and Mark were sitting. When his eyes fell upon the rabbit’s foot, the four-leaf clover, the ladybug charm and the horseshoe hanging on the wall, he smiled so broadly that even his back teeth showed.

“These,” he said, “are objects of sorcery. According to the belief, if a person carries a charm chosen in harmony with his physical and spiritual nature, his affairs will prosper. It is said that otherworldly energies—that is, gods—use such objects to influence human beings.”
Then, glancing around as if sharing a secret, he leaned forward and whispered:

“If you keep these in your home… you must be alchemists as well, yes?”

Odessa realized, in that instant, that Seth was unaware of certain things Noah knew about them. Though the two claimed to have come from the same place, it was clear they belonged to entirely different worlds. And from the way Seth had said “You must be alchemists as well?” she understood that he himself was an alchemist too.
At first this seemed like good news—her father had also been an alchemist, after all.
But then another possibility crossed her mind, and fear tightened inside her.

What if Seth was one of the Others?

She had heard of them from her father: ruthless, devoted to a violent and radical ideology. She remembered how many times she had questioned him about them, and how he had always avoided giving clear answers. Only one sentence had remained etched in her memory:

“Even a single one of them—just one—would be enough to turn this island upside down, if he ever hid his true intentions.”

Her question “Who is that one person?” had never been answered.

The conversations in the various rooms came to an end when Cindy and Petrus, having recovered, immediately went to check on Abraham. He, overwhelmed by the sight of his mother and father after what felt like a long separation, embraced them with a deep longing.

“My true mother and father are you,” he said. “For being your child, I can never thank God enough.”

Linda had raised Abraham with the utmost care for years. Whenever he fell ill, she would not leave his side for days, waiting for her precious child’s fever to break. In those days, Linda had burned with the fear of losing him—and now the same fear returned:
“What if Abraham leaves us? What if he becomes angry for hiding the truth?”
The worry she had carried for years had reached its peak in recent days, yet Abraham had once again responded in the way most true to his character.

Linda and Petrus felt as if a great weight had finally lifted from their shoulders. The tears of pain and sorrow they had shed had, by the end of the day, turned into droplets of joy.
In this place where different emotions, thoughts, understandings, and faiths existed side by side, their common enemies were Lord and the destructive ideology he embodied. For these enlightened souls, this small refuge had become something like an outpost of goodness. Their true intentions were known only to Allah, but their words and actions revealed everything.

The warm, gentle atmosphere inside this sanctuary was suddenly shattered by Mark, who burst in breathlessly:

“Lord’s men—and many others—are on their way here. From what I can see, they’re searching for us everywhere. We need to get inside and camouflage the shelter—now!”

Everyone waited in silence inside the cave. From the shuffling outside and the voices of the soldiers, they could tell that the number of pursuers was large. This not only showed the depth of Lord’s rage but also his determination to find them. From time to time, the screams they heard hinted that some had been bitten by snakes.

Snakes had never been Abraham’s enemies. True, after Petrus was bitten he now regarded them as unsettling creatures—but after hearing the screams outside, he began to see them differently: as guardians assigned to protect the innocent.
He even interpreted the morning’s snake bite as a warning from them:
“Leave this place—don’t bring trouble upon yourselves!”

With Odessa’s help, Abraham climbed up to the concealed lookout and peered outside. At once he understood the cause of the many rustling sounds—they were the people fleeing, frightened off by the snakes’ attacks. Realizing the danger of being heard and caught had finally passed, Abraham whispered:

“Relax—they’re gone.”

Everyone let out a deep breath, wiping the sweat from their brows and exchanging hopeful, relieved glances.

“When is ‘I was ignorant; I didn’t know’ ever a valid excuse?” Abraham asked.
The others understood from his expression that he was speaking about something much deeper.

“Lord gathered countless people and brought them here. Together they searched for us—and you could see in their faces what they would have done if they’d found us. Don’t let anyone say, ‘They’re ignorant; Lord deceived them.’ No—they simply don’t care about good or evil. They act however it suits them.”

He paused, then added:

“In short, the earth of God is vast. We must leave this land—this island.”

At that moment, they all thought of the same place: the Island of Qabil. Abraham and Mark had already told them that there was no water on the Surrounding Isle, but the smoke that sometimes rose toward the sky from Qabil’s Island proved that someone lived there.

In truth, the desire to leave the island was shared by all of them, yet they also knew that their small boats would never survive the storms that raged around the island—and that sharks were always waiting for the slightest opportunity to devour them.

Abraham fixed his gaze on Mark and Odessa, standing side by side, sending them a message without a word. Mark, understanding him perfectly, raised his hands toward him and said:

“Rest assured,” Mark said, “I can speak on behalf of the alchemists—none of us has ever set foot on that island. We truly have no idea what’s there.”

Odessa let out a soft giggle and added in a teasing tone,
“But don’t worry, there are no monsters. Well… at least none that can fly, as far as we know.”

Abraham looked first at Noah and Seth, then at his parents, and finally at Cindy and Melisa, asking them all the same question with his eyes. Noah raised his hand like a student asking permission to speak.

“Why do you even call it the Island of the Qabils?”

Petrus shrugged.
“For as long as we’ve known ourselves, people believed that the descendants of Qabil lived there. My grandfather said the same. According to the story, after the second Flood, God confined them to that island and made us the guardians set over them.”

Seth murmured what was on his mind:
“Some captives they must be—not even trying to escape! Who’s good, who’s bad, really?”

Noticing Petrus staring oddly at him, he quickly added,
“I mean… just kidding.”

Noah pointed toward Seth.
“I think Seth has a point. Qabil was certainly a wrongdoer—but his children cannot be condemned for his sins. According to what I know, because those children grew up under the influence of the customs and harshness of their lineage, Prophet Shith warned people not to go near them so they wouldn’t spread their ways. But over time, his advice turned into myth, and then myth into fear.”

He added:

“What I mean is this: today we cannot know who is a Qabil and who is a Abel. You yourselves described the hatred and rage in the people’s eyes. In my view, we should free ourselves from those who bear Qabil’s traits right under our noses—and leave this place without prejudice, but with caution.”

“How did you come for help when you first arrived on this island? Don’t others know about you? I mean… couldn’t someone from the outside come to rescue us?” Odessa asked.
Noah hesitated, unsure how to answer. Seth turned his face away and muttered,
“Don’t drag me into this.”

“When we told people out there that such an island existed—and that we had heard its voice—they thought we were mad. They didn’t really believe us, but we still hope someone will come looking for us,” Noah said, choosing to hide the full truth.

Seeing that everyone agreed about leaving the island, Abraham reminded them how little time they had left.

“We must begin at once!”

“Everything we’ll need is ready,” Odessa said. “Planks, boards, long pointed timbers, the flat stone we use as a hammer, and the rest… he has kept them prepared for years, as if we might sail to that island at any moment. Looks like destiny saved that task for us.”

The island’s circle of the righteous set to work at once. In a short time, they completed the wooden boat and pushed it into the water. Their intention had been to take everyone with them, yet the boat’s size—and the risk of capsizing on the journey—made it clear that two people could not come. They could not possibly leave their guests, Noah and Seth, behind. After a brief discussion, they decided that Melisa and Linda would remain.

With each pull of the oars, they were drawing not only closer to the Island of the Qabilites, but also nearer to the answers of questions that had lingered in their minds for centuries.

Seth wondered whether the people there would be dark-skinned—or whether he might even encounter giant serpents. Noah, recalling old accounts, knew that the descendants of Qabil were said to steal tools and women and to lead others astray. Since Abraham had mentioned that no loud songs or music had ever been heard from the island, Noah suspected that if anyone truly lived there, the secret must be connected to the Lord.

Abraham kept glancing at Mark as if to say, “If I find out you visited this island before, you know what I’ll do.”
Mark, meanwhile, dreamed of finding more detailed and successful results of the research Master Ilius had once described.
Odessa remembered the day she lied about coming from that island and wondered if life there might actually be more comfortable.
Cindy held on to the hope of finding her lost husband Ilius.
And Petrus—though he said nothing—was already formulating the explanation he would give upon their return.

As they drew near the Island of the Qabils, Abraham turned to his father and asked,
“So it was this easy to reach the island?”
His father replied,
“Getting here is easy. Returning is the real matter. Lord’s soldiers have surely spotted us on the lake by now. They’ll be on high alert. They’ll search every home, one by one, to find out who dared attempt this. Then, for failing to prevent such a departure, they’ll imprison the families of those who left for life; and if any of the ones who fled ever return, they’ll be executed. For islanders who are deeply attached to their families, coming to this place is no different from suicide. And still, I believe there may be dangers waiting for us on the Island of the Qabils.”

“Such as what, Father?”
“If they truly are the descendants of Qabil, they may kill us. Perhaps they’re cannibals who feast on human flesh,” Petrus said with a shrug. He listed every bloody and savage possibility he could think of, hoping the group might give up—but without success.

From afar, Abraham’s first impression of the Island of the Qabils was that it looked no different from their own. After passing a wide stretch of reeds, they recognized the stench of rotten eggs rising up to their noses. As expected, the smell disappeared once the terrain of swampy soil and oak trees came to an end.

Hand in hand, they formed a chain so they could keep one another from sinking. Fortunately, Noah—walking at the front—checked every step and every patch of ground ahead with a long pole, and they managed to cross the marshy ground without incident. When the shape, color, and foliage of the trees changed, they knew they had left the mire completely behind.