The air in Marrakech's medina felt heavier the next morning, as if the city itself had sensed the strange events of the night before. Bakr and Youssef walked through the narrow streets in silence, each lost in their thoughts. The drum's fragments were wrapped in cloth inside Bakr's bag, but even hidden, they seemed to radiate an unnatural heat.
Youssef broke the silence first. "We should just bury it. Whatever this is, it's not normal. It's dangerous."
Bakr shot him a sidelong glance. "Don't you want to know what's happening? We both had the same dream, Youssef. That can't just be ignored."
"I don't care about dreams. I care about not getting cursed or struck by lightning or whatever happens in these situations."
Bakr sighed but didn't argue. They turned a corner, emerging into a quieter section of the medina. That was when they noticed her.
A woman stood in the center of the square, her presence commanding despite the simple white djellaba she wore. Her hair was dark, braided tightly, and her eyes seemed to glow faintly, like embers hidden behind a veil of smoke. She stood perfectly still, yet the space around her seemed alive with energy, as though the air itself bent to her will.
"Bakr and Youssef," she said, her voice calm yet carrying an authority that made them stop in their tracks.
Youssef froze. "Uh… do we know you?"
The woman smiled faintly. "Not yet. But I know you. You struck the drum, didn't you?"
Bakr's heart raced. "Who are you? How do you know about that?"
"My name is Amira," she said. "And I am here because the two of you have awakened something far older than you realize."
Amira led them to a secluded courtyard, away from the prying eyes of the medina. The space was quiet, its walls covered in ivy and its floor made of ancient stone tiles. Bakr and Youssef exchanged a nervous glance but followed her.
"First," Amira began, "you need to understand what you've done. The drum you found was no ordinary artifact. It was the Seal of the Atlas, a relic tied to the gods of old. When you struck it, you released a fragment of their power."
"Wait," Youssef interrupted, raising a hand. "Gods? Power? Are you saying we're in some kind of mythological story?"
Amira turned to him, her expression serious. "Moroccan mythology is not just a collection of old tales. The Berber and Phoenician gods were real, though they have long faded from this world. Their champions, however, were mortals like you—chosen to wield their power and protect the balance of the realm."
Bakr felt a chill run down his spine. "You're saying we're… their champions?"
Amira nodded. "The world is at a tipping point. An ancient darkness stirs, one that only the Emperium Guardians can stop. But the Guardians must be found and united. That is why I am here—to guide you."
Youssef laughed, though there was no humor in it. "This is insane. You expect us to believe that we're supposed to… what, save the world?"
Amira's gaze softened. "I know it sounds impossible. But the marks on your hands, the dreams, the pull you feel—that is the gods calling you. You cannot run from it."
Bakr looked at his hands, the faint symbols still glowing faintly beneath his skin. "What do we do?"
Amira gestured to the far end of the courtyard, where a stone door stood embedded in the wall. "There is a place beneath this city. An ancient chamber built by the first Guardians. It will show you the path forward—but only if you are worthy."
The stone door led to a spiral staircase, descending deep into the earth. The air grew colder with each step, and the only light came from the faint glow of Bakr and Youssef's hands. Amira walked ahead of them, her movements graceful and sure, as if she had walked this path countless times before.
They emerged into a vast underground chamber. The walls were covered in carvings, depicting scenes of battles, rituals, and the gods themselves. In the center of the room stood a pedestal, atop which rested a glowing orb of light.
"This," Amira said, "is the Orb of Remembrance. It will reveal the past—and the future—of the Guardians. But be warned: it will also test you. Only those who face their fears and accept their destiny can proceed."
Youssef took a step back. "Great. Another magical trial. This is just getting better and better."
Bakr stepped forward, his heart pounding. "We don't have a choice, Youssef. If what she says is true… we have to do this."
Youssef muttered something under his breath but followed reluctantly.
When Bakr touched the orb, the world dissolved around him. He found himself standing in a vast desert, the sun blazing overhead. In the distance, he saw a figure—himself—wandering aimlessly, his hands empty and his face hollow.
"This is your fear," a voice whispered. "To be forgotten. To leave no mark on the world."
Bakr clenched his fists. "That's not true."
"Is it not?" the voice challenged. "You seek the past because you fear the future. You bury yourself in history to avoid facing your own."
The words cut deep, but Bakr refused to back down. "I may fear being forgotten, but that doesn't mean I'll run from my fate. I'll face it. Whatever it takes."
The desert faded, and Bakr found himself back in the chamber, the orb glowing brighter than before.
Meanwhile, Youssef found himself standing in his childhood home. His family surrounded him, their faces filled with disappointment.
"You've always been reckless," his father said. "Always chasing adventure, never thinking about the consequences."
His sister shook her head. "You'll get yourself killed, and for what? Another pointless quest?"
Youssef felt his chest tighten. "I'm not reckless," he said, though the words sounded hollow. "I'm… I'm trying to do the right thing."
"Are you?" his father asked. "Or are you just running from responsibility?"
The accusations stung, but Youssef squared his shoulders. "I may not always know what I'm doing, but I won't stand by and do nothing. If that makes me reckless, so be it."
The scene dissolved, and Youssef returned to the chamber, his breathing heavy.
Amira smiled as the orb's light filled the room, casting intricate patterns on the walls. "You have both passed the first test. The journey ahead will not be easy, but you have taken the first step."
Bakr and Youssef exchanged a look. For the first time, they felt a flicker of understanding—not just of what lay ahead, but of each other.
"What now?" Bakr asked.
"Now," Amira said, her voice steady, "we find the others."