The sky above them closed in abruptly, as if someone had draped a dusty blanket over the world. It was not a storm that forced one to take shelter in the rocks. It was the “Haze of Silence”—a rare phenomenon when microscopic dust hangs motionless in the air, erasing the boundary between earth and sky. The stars vanished. The horizon dissolved.
Bashir stopped, breathing heavily. He spun in place, trying to catch any landmark at all.
“Salim, we’re blind out here. I can’t see the North Star. I can’t see the outline of the dunes. We could be walking straight into the jaws of death and we wouldn’t know it until our very last step.”
Panic began to take hold of Bashir. For a man accustomed to relying on his eyes and strength, the loss of vision was debilitating. He felt like a blind kitten in a vast, empty hall.
Salim, however, kept walking. His steps remained just as measured as before. He didn’t even turn around.
“Follow the sound, Bashir,” his voice drifted through the gray haze.
“What sound?!” Bashir exploded. “It’s as quiet as a grave here! Nothing but my own pulse hammering in my ears!”
Salim stopped and waited until Bashir, stumbling, caught up to him. The young man reached out and touched Bashir’s chest, right over his heart.
“You’re listening to your fear, which is why it hammers so loudly. Your fear is noise. But beneath it lies music. Do you remember the hum you felt on the day you were saved?”
Bashir froze. He closed his eyes, trying to filter out the panic. At first, he heard only the whistle of his own breath. But then, somewhere at the very edge of perception, he caught a low, almost imperceptible vibration. It came not from above, not from the stars, but from below—from the very bones of the earth.
“Is that… is that the Dragon?” he whispered.
“That is direction,” Salim replied. “The world can hide the stars from you. People can burn your maps. Your eyes can be blinded by old age or sand. But that which chose you will never stop calling. External landmarks are an illusion of safety. The true compass is always within.”
Salim stepped forward again, but this time he closed his eyes. He walked with such certainty, as if an illuminated avenue lay open before him. Holding his breath, Bashir fell in behind, doing his best to step precisely into his tracks.
They walked through absolute void for several hours. To Bashir, it felt as though they were walking in circles, or had long since stepped off the edge of the world. But Salim never wavered. At some point, the air grew colder, the dust began to settle, and suddenly, as if a curtain had been torn away, the view of the Moon Valley opened before them.
They had reached the pass—without veering off course by a single yard.
Bashir collapsed to his knees, staring up at the emerging stars. He was laughing and crying at the same time.
“You led us blind… You are insane, Salim. Or you’re truly not human.”
Salim sat down beside him and began gathering kindling for a fire.
“Those who walk blind are the ones who trust only their eyes, Bashir. I saw the road more clearly than on a sunny noon. Because in the fog, the truth only speaks louder.”