Between Truth And A Promise

Sayid met Omar ibn Rashid's gaze.

The man was exactly what Sayid had expected—and yet nothing like he imagined.

Draped in loose, dark robes embroidered with gold, he carried himself with the effortless grace of a man who had never once feared for his life. His face was sharp—too sharp, like a blade honed over years of survival. But his eyes…

His eyes were worse.

They weren't cruel. They weren't kind.

They were calculating.

The eyes of a man who had seen secrets unravel empires and decided long ago that knowledge was the only true power.

He took a seat without being invited.

Mehri barely glanced at him, stirring her tea. "You always had a habit of appearing when least wanted."

Omar smiled. "And yet, here I am."

Sayid straightened, his fingers tightening around his cup. "You know why we're here."

Omar tilted his head slightly, studying him. "Do I?"

The way he spoke was measured, deliberate. Like he already knew the answer, but wanted to see if Sayid did.

Sayid didn't hesitate. "The manuscript. The mark. The price it demands."

Omar exhaled softly, as if mildly amused. "Ah. So you have already accepted that there is a price."

Sayid's pulse quickened. "I didn't have a choice."

Omar took his time responding, reaching for his own cup, inhaling the scent before taking a slow sip. Then, with an almost dangerous softness, he said—

"You always have a choice."

The words cut deeper than Sayid expected.

Because they felt like an accusation.

His jaw tightened. "That's easy to say when you're not the one marked."

Omar smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "And yet, here you are—still alive. Still speaking. That means the true price hasn't been collected yet, has it?"

Sayid's fingers twitched.

He had thought about this—the possibility that whatever the manuscript had taken from him wasn't gone yet.

That it was still waiting.

Mehri placed her cup down with a quiet click. "Enough riddles, Omar. If you know something, say it."

Omar leaned back, exhaling through his nose. "You ask me to give knowledge freely, Mehri. That is not how the world works."

Sayid clenched his fists. "Then what do you want?"

Omar's eyes gleamed. "I want to know why you want to know."

The question caught Sayid off guard.

It was simple. Too simple.

Yet it unsettled him.

Because why did he want to know?

To understand what had happened to him?

To take control of his own fate?

To reclaim what had been stolen?

Or was it something deeper?

Did he—like his father before him—believe that knowledge, no matter how dangerous, was still worth the risk?

He exhaled, voice steady. "Because ignorance is worse than knowing."

Omar watched him for a long moment. Then—he laughed.

A real laugh.

Not mocking. Not cruel.

But a laugh of genuine amusement.

Sayid wasn't sure whether that was a good thing.

---

Omar set his cup down, his expression sobering. "You are not the first to chase answers. You will not be the last. But let me ask you something, Sayid ibn Rahman."

He leaned forward, his voice lowering.

"If you could know everything—the full truth of this manuscript, of what it took from you—would you want to?"

Sayid blinked.

The answer should have been yes.

But something about the way Omar said it—**the way his voice curled around the question like it held an unspoken warning—**made Sayid hesitate.

Omar didn't wait for him to answer. "There is a reason people fear knowledge. It is not because they lack curiosity. It is because they understand something most men do not."

His voice dropped even lower.

"Knowing something means you can never un-know it."

Sayid exhaled slowly. "That doesn't scare me."

Omar's gaze flickered. "No. But it should."

He leaned back, studying Sayid as if deciding whether he was worth the effort.

Then, finally—

"The manuscript you encountered is older than the kingdom you stand in. Older than most civilizations still breathing today. It has passed through countless hands—scribes, scholars, rulers, warriors. Do you know how many have survived it?"

Sayid swallowed. "How many?"

Omar held up one finger.

Sayid's stomach twisted. "One?"

Omar nodded. "And even then, he did not escape unscathed."

Sayid didn't realize how tightly he was gripping his cloak until Mehri nudged him under the table.

"Then what do you know about it?" she pressed. "And don't pretend you don't, Omar."

Omar smirked. "I know that it does not grant knowledge freely. It demands something in return. And that 'something' is not always what you expect."

Sayid exhaled through his nose. "We already figured that part out."

"Ah, but did you?" Omar tapped the rim of his cup. "Because from where I sit, you still don't know what it took, do you?"

Sayid hated that he was right.

Mehri crossed her arms. "Then tell us."

Omar hummed, tilting his head slightly. "I could."

Sayid narrowed his eyes. "But?"

"But." Omar's lips curled, "I prefer fair exchanges."

Sayid's pulse quickened. "What do you want?"

Omar smiled.

"Your next move."

Sayid hesitated. "What?"

Omar tapped the table once, his expression unreadable. "Your next move, Sayid. If I tell you what I know, you will owe me something in return."

Sayid's mouth went dry.

Omar continued, voice smooth. "And what I want is simple: Tell me, right now, what you will do once you learn the truth. Will you chase it further? Will you try to undo it? Will you walk away?"

Sayid's breath hitched.

Because he didn't know.

He had been so focused on getting answers that he hadn't considered what came after.

What if the truth was worse than not knowing?

What if he couldn't escape the price?

He swallowed hard.

"I…"

The words caught in his throat.

Omar watched him carefully. Waiting.

Sayid exhaled.

And then, finally—

"I won't walk away."

Omar's smile deepened.

"Then I suppose you deserve an answer."

He lifted his cup, taking one last sip. Then, in a voice softer than before, he said—

"What was taken from you, Sayid ibn Rahman… was never yours to begin with."

Sayid's blood turned to ice.

Mehri stiffened.

Omar set his cup down.

And just like that—

The world tilted.