They say that somewhere deep in the desert, there is a night no one ever sees.
It comes only to those who are lost within themselves.
On such nights, travelers heard a strange chime — as if two coins were striking each other, though not a single soul was nearby.
Those who heard the sound all told the same thing:
after the chime, a ring appeared on the sand.
Not gold.
Not silver.
Not jewelry.
But a coin bent into a circle, as if someone had forced the metal to obey a will not human.
On one side — a bee.
On the other — a stag.
The sides do not argue. They… watch.
The elders of the oases used to say:
“If the bee faces you, someone needs you.
If the stag does — it is time to leave, even if you fear the road.”
But if you turn the ring, the meaning shifts.
Not the symbol.
You.
Some called it “The Coin of Two Spirits.”
Others — “The Master’s Ring, for whom metal was never enough.”
And one caravan keeper, who outlived all his sons, said:
“This ring does not choose the future…
it chooses the price.”
People who found the coin were never the same.
Some suddenly met the ones they had been waiting for all their lives.
Others set out on roads they feared for years.
A few vanished without a trace — but their names remained carved in the sand, as if someone wrote them under the cloak of night.
The craftsmen who forge such rings today swear that each piece leaves their hands different — as though the metal remembers the person it belongs to.
And no one truly knows why this ring keeps returning to the world.
Or to whom.
The only certainty is this:
if you hold it in your hands, it has already made its choice.
