Marcus sat where he was, staring at the space Haroun had left behind, as though his absence had uncovered a deeper emptiness within. He returned to his thoughts—but something had changed.
Yes… he had found a partial answer to his questions, or so he believed.
In the long term, he knew what he wanted. He felt it clearly—that he was meant to become a Walker. To step into that veiled world glowing beyond the misty curtain. But in the short term, everything was murky.
Where should he go?
Who could he talk to?
What should he do now?
Simple questions, yet they loomed before him like an abyss with no bottom.
The people around him certainly weren't here by accident. They must have goals, hidden motives, ways to navigate this place. But they didn't seem eager to help. No one here gave anything for free—that's how it felt.
"Then why not help them first?"
He said it to himself, surprised by how simple it sounded.
He thought to himself:
"What can I offer?"
He mentally listed what he had: he could read ancient books—maybe even translate them. He knew bits of noble history, fragments of philosophy—scattered thoughts from his father's long monologues under quiet night skies.
But… none of it seemed particularly useful here.
No one in this place wanted to hear a story about a long-dead civilization or a theory about the origins of meaning. No one had time for lectures in wisdom.
The question weighed on him again:
"What could make me valuable here?"
Before he could spiral deeper into confusion, he noticed a boy running in the distance—leaping and laughing, as though the world held no burden. The child was heading straight toward him.
Marcus watched, expecting him to slow down. But he didn't.
At the last second, Marcus reached out and caught him gently, stopping him from falling or crashing into him.
The boy looked up and smiled, pure and radiant.
"You're a kind man," he said.
Then repeated it, as though he'd discovered a treasure:
"You're a kind man."
He paused, as if he heard something Marcus could not, then pointed toward the highlands and whispered:
"Climb to the top of the mountain… you'll find someone who can help you."
And just like that, he ran off again, not waiting for a reply.
Marcus stood there, watching the child vanish into the stone alleys. Then, slowly, he turned his eyes to the mountain in the distance.
There was something in those words that stirred a long-silent curiosity.
They weren't just a child's whim—they felt like a hidden prophecy.
And so, he began to move.