The Circle Of The Qur'an #3[The Arkaan Series|Book One]

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓾𝓮

Vast dunes of red sand, a bed of stones

Laying cold in a pond of ice.

...

The frigid gales of the red desert blew fiercely against his skin. He was stranded and lost in this icy stretch of desolate land, and his clothes - no matter how much his mother had taken precautions, were just not enough to ward off the closely unnatural gelidity.

He could feel the chill in every bone, nay-every cell of his body, was rigid from the cold. His jaw was painfully fixed and occasionally, he could hear the chattering of his teeth.

Since he was born, Arkaan had never been this cold before. He even began to long for the wintry nights he spent at his grandfather's stony estate, far from home.

...

He felt uncomfortable.

He dreaded every minute he spent there.

...

But there was no other way.

...

He remembered what Scheherazade had said, in her strange and eerie laughter:

There are more things than an ancient inscription the King wants you to seek in the Ancestral wastelands of Tâ Hâ. The young Prince doesn't know that.. But, you do.

...

..Yes, he did.

...

.

.

A frozen stone.

•••

A hundred and fifty students were roaming the chilling red deserts of TALE - the largely uninhabitable region of the Isle of Tâ Hâ. Considering the severity of the cold here, Arkaan could only hope Ukashah was safe.

One thing he'd learnt about the lukewarm boy from their staying together was that, he didn't have a tolerance for the cold. He couldn't also be of any aid to him because, they were all scattered on the vast terrains of the unfriendly desert.

He stopped trudging in the sandy dunes, looking ahead of him, into the vast sea of red sand up ahead..

Where was he going to find a pond of ice, in this gargantuan desert??

•••

As the sun took to its last lap, to end its fleeting voyage across the blue sky, leaving streaks of gold in the wake, Arkaan sat in his final raka'ah of the 'Asr prayer, to give the salaam at the completion of his prayer. He had only turned right, when he heard it.

A recitation,

Serene. Soft.

Like the song of a siren.

Arkaan did not realize when, or if he had even given the last salaam. However the next thing he knew, he was walking as though he were one possessed by a call, seeking the source of the ethereal voice.

Even as he approached the source, the verses became clearer, the beauty, accentuating with every strain of the voice. This was no human..

It was an angel on Earth.

They were simple ãyaat. But he read them with an elegance, articulation flowing like fluid, into aether. His eloquent voice rang, leaving Arkaan in a daze.

"I know you." Arkaan breathed, looking at the immaculately dressed boy in the white thobe, exuding an air of freshness and beauty.

The barefooted boy sitting on the red rock turned back and smiled.

"You're one of them!"