When the price is paid in the shadows, the one who pays it never returns the same if he returns at all.
The night inside the narrow stone hideaway beneath the carved monument was suffocating, as if the rock itself pressed down on their chests.
It was not the darkness alone that stole the breath, but the restless movement above them the movement of an entire city thrown into alarm because a single token had not returned.
Boots struck stone with force.
Armor scraped against armor.
Tense whispers crossed and collided.
Voices echoed from every direction:
"Search there!"
"Check every corner!"
"One man didn't come out he has to be here!"
Sweat beaded on Aram's brow despite the cold stone.
Solan clenched his jaw, forcing his breathing to stay silent, as if air itself could betray them.
And Tavar…
Tavar was quieter than he should have been the silence of a man reviewing his final decision.
Time stretched.
Minutes grew heavier than hours, and even the smallest unmeasured movement could have exposed them all.
Then Tavar broke the silence.
His voice was low, steady not debating, but declaring.
"It's my turn."
Aram and Solan turned to him at the same instant.
Tavar reached into his cloak and withdrew the wooden key he had carried for so long the key that had survived countless roads with him.
He placed it in Aram's hand and said quietly, painfully:
"I always knew this day would come.
They are looking for one man.
If I don't go out… they will find the three of us."
Aram clenched his hand, refusing, his voice breaking despite its strength.
"No. We'll find another way."
Solan whispered urgently, his breath sharp despite the hush.
"You won't go alone. We won't leave you."
Tavar smiled faintly
the smile of a man who had looked into the eyes of his ending and did not blink.
"If we stay, we all end here.
If I go… you continue."
Then he looked directly at Aram a gaze without fear, filled instead with quiet plea.
"I don't want what we've done to be wasted.
And I won't let your road end here."
Silence fell heavy, absolute.
Aram tried to speak…
but the words failed him.
Tavar adjusted his cloak and said:
"Wait until the movement eases here.
I'll exit from the other side.
I'll let them see me.
I'll be the sound they're hunting."
He didn't wait for an answer.
He slipped away with the grace of a man who knew every step was his last.
Through a narrow opening, Aram and Solan watched him move
measured steps,
a calculated pause,
the edge of his garment left visible to anyone who knew how to look.
Moments later
"There! Over there!"
"We found him!"
"He's trying to enter the forbidden quarter!"
Guards surged like a flood.
Hands seized.
Voices clashed.
"He's caught! He's caught!"
Aram and Solan remained frozen.
They did not move.
They did not speak.
And then
Everything calmed.
The guards dispersed.
The voices faded.
The market resumed its breathing, as if nothing had happened.
Aram lowered his gaze to the stone floor.
He said nothing.
But his heart knew the truth in full.
Tavar would not return.
With extreme caution, Aram and Solan moved.
They tested passages, traced junctions, and identified where the routes toward the forbidden quarter converged.
And then
The gates opened.
The city changed.
The people of Saba entered the merchants' zone.
The sight was unsettling in its calm:
White garments, immaculate.
Faces composed.
No visible weapons.
They moved with the confidence of those who fear nothing on their own ground.
They inspected foreign goods, spoke softly, showed no haste.
No fear.
Aram whispered, "If we're not like them… we'll be exposed."
Solan observed for a moment, then said, "We need their clothes."
They watched two men drift away from the crowd.
The move was swift and clean:
one strike each,
tight restraints,
a rapid exchange of garments.
They returned to the market
but as they headed toward the gate, the truth struck them:
This hour was not for entering.
Only for leaving.
Suspicion tightened its grip.
The danger had not passed.
So they did what the people of Saba did.
They shopped.
They watched.
They waited.
Solan noticed many purchasing heavy loads
cloth,
carpets,
bundles large enough to hide more than they revealed.
He murmured, "That's how they hide faces."
They followed suit.
They lifted bolts of fabric and rolled carpets onto their shoulders, covered their heads, and merged with the flow of those exiting.
When the gates opened again
they returned with the others,
as if they belonged.
They entered the forbidden city.
It was vast.
Unsettlingly quiet.
No visible weapons.
Everyone absorbed in themselves.
That calm disturbed them more than chaos ever could.
Here, danger did not shout.
They moved away from the crowds, searching for a place to breathe.
And there
they found it.
A small cave beyond the city's immediate reach.
They looked at one another.
No words were needed.
That cave became their first refuge within Saba.
From there,
they would begin the search for what Aram had come for
after the price had been paid in full,
a price of blood
that would never be reclaimed.