Beacon of Heroes

-5-

The night was dark, and the air was charged with tension before the battle. We were in position, ready to launch an attack on one of the strategic points occupied by the enemy. Hearts were racing with anxiety, but deep down, there was a conviction that what we were doing was for a just cause, for our homeland and the dreams that had been stolen from us.

When we began the attack, silence reigned for a few moments, followed by the sound of explosions and gunfire.

The battle was fierce, and every bullet played a tune of martyrdom. We were making progress, and the friends beside me were fighting bravely. But that night held a different fate.

In the midst of the battle, I felt something strange, as if my senses were heightened; I could hear my heart racing with every step I took. I watched my friends fighting valiantly, but everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

Suddenly, I found myself in an unexpected situation. An Israeli soldier fired at me, but I was lucky. I ducked at the right moment, yet I saw one of my friends, who had been beside me, take a bullet straight to his chest. He screamed in pain and fell to the ground.

"Mohannad!" I screamed at the top of my lungs and ran towards his body, but I felt my heart stop. That moment was filled with despair, but I couldn't turn back. I knew that Mohannad had dedicated himself to fight for all of us for the land that rightfully belonged to us.

I carried him on my shoulder and ran toward a safe point. As the bullets rained around us, I could hear the echoes of my friends calling me, urging me to move forward. But I felt like I was leaving them to face death, and my heart was breaking.

We reached a safe place, but there was no time to celebrate survival. Mohannad was in pain, and I knew his injury was serious. I tried to help him, but it was beyond my ability. I felt powerless, realizing that my life would never be the same.

As I prepared to return to the battle, I felt something pushing me to think about the true meaning of what I was doing. I remembered the words of Yahya Sinwar, our friends who had become martyrs, and those who sacrificed for their land. "We must always be ready to sacrifice, but we must know why we are fighting."

The whir of the planes and the surrounding sounds came back to life, but I was lost in my thoughts. Suddenly, a new battle erupted, and I decided to return to join. Inside, I knew that this battle would be different; I felt I was standing at a turning point.

I ran towards the battle once more, finding myself in the heart of the flames. My friends' eyes were filled with determination and resolve, but in the depth of the fight, I sensed something—a bullet whizzed past me, another struck one of my friends, but I was driven by a feeling of excitement and courage.

In an unexpected moment, another bullet was fired, and I found myself facing a fatal injury. Everything began to fade; it was a slow moment as I felt my body retreating. I looked around and saw the faces I loved and who loved me, those with whom I shared dreams, who spoke of the future and freedom.

When I fell to the ground, I realized I wouldn't be able to return, but I was assured that I wouldn't be alone. I saw Mohannad, and I saw all the martyrs I had known, and everyone who had fallen for this land. It was a strange feeling, as if I had moved to another place, where there were no boundaries or restrictions.

"In a land where we have grown accustomed to the sound of shells as the morning anthem, and where our dreams have turned into steadfast rocks; here heroes are born."

Those words echoed in my mind, as if they were playing a hymn for me in my final moments.I closed my eyes and felt a peace envelop me, as if I were part of the land, part of history.And when dawn arrived, the sun's rays filtered through the clouds, as if announcing a new beginning.

I realized that my journey was not yet over, and the will we planted in our hearts would continue to live on. We will keep fighting, and we will carry the banner of resistance until the end.

---At the conclusion of this story, the hero's name remains intentionally unmentioned, as he symbolizes every brave fighter who stood against the oppressive occupation and offered his soul in sacrifice for his homeland. Many have departed, and countless have died, and their names have not been immortalized in the annals of history, but that does not diminish their heroism. It is not important for people to know their names; what matters most is that the Lord of mankind observes their deeds and keeps their memory alive. In the end, their souls remain alive in the hearts of generations, and their martyrdom is the legacy that lights the path to freedom and inspires every resisting spirit.---

The End.