Between the minaret and the cross symbol
Madina Fedosova

© Madina Fedosova, 2025

ISBN 978-5-0067-0136-6

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

«Dear Reader,

Before you begin reading this book, I want to share my intentions with you. I deeply respect both Islam and Christianity, as well as all who sincerely believe in God. This book is not an attempt to discredit any religion, but rather an exploration, an attempt to understand why two faiths so close in their origins have become divided.

I have always been interested in history, especially those moments when religious and cultural traditions intertwined, creating something new and unique. I believe that understanding the past can help us build a better future.

I am aware that the topic I have touched upon is complex and delicate. I have tried to approach it as responsibly and objectively as possible. I hope that my book will make you think about important questions and help you see the world from a new perspective.

Thank you for your attention and trust.»

Introduction

Jerusalem. City of three religions, city of peace and war, of hope and despair. Here, in the narrow streets of the Old City, beneath the scorching sun, the fates of people, faiths, and civilizations intertwine. It is here, guided by ancient maps and mysterious symbols, that Alexandre Dubois, a French scholar and linguist, arrives.

Alexandre is not religious. His faith lies in knowledge, his passion in the pursuit of truth. For years, he has studied ancient languages and cultures, immersing himself in the world of forgotten civilizations. One day, while working in the archives of the Sorbonne, he stumbled upon a fragment of an ancient manuscript that turned his understanding of history upside down.

In this text, he discovered a mention of an ancient faith that existed long before Islam and Christianity. A faith that united people from different tribes and nations, who believed in one God. Studying other sources, Alexandre realized that this faith had left its mark on the symbolism, rituals, and even the texts of both religions.

The idea that Islam and Christianity have common roots seemed crazy to him, almost heretical. But the more he studied the issue, the more convinced he became that he was right. He decided to dedicate his life to finding evidence to support his hypothesis.

He knew what awaited him. The ridicule of colleagues, the opposition of religious fanatics, perhaps even mortal danger. But he could not back down. He felt that not only his scientific reputation was at stake, but also the future of all mankind.

Alexandre arrived in Jerusalem to begin his search. He knew that this city is not only a holy place for millions of believers, but also an arena for a fierce struggle for power and influence. Here, between the minaret and the cross, he will face the darkest sides of human nature.

But he believed he could find the truth. He believed he could prove that people of different faiths have more in common than differences. He believed he could build a bridge between the minaret and the cross, and thereby contribute to the establishment of peace on Earth.

Prologue

The dust of ages

The old map smelled of dust and frankincense, a strange, almost impossible mixture, as if history itself were sealed within the parchment, a concentrate of time and faith. Alexandre ran his finger over the fragile parchment, feeling the roughness of centuries beneath his fingertips.

Under his touch, the shadows of bygone eras seemed to come alive, the whisper of long-silenced voices, the echo of long-thundered battles. The dim light of the desk lamp barely snatched from the shadows the intricate lines drawn by the hand of an ancient cartographer.

The beds of long-dried-up rivers, like scars on the face of the earth, stretched in winding lines, reminiscent of the whims of nature and the transience of all things. The outlines of ruined cities, marked on the map only by a dotted line, testified to the grandeur and fall of empires, to the vanity of human ambitions.

The names of forgotten gods, written in elegant script, whispered of worlds long gone into oblivion, of beliefs buried beneath the layer of time and new religions. The map, like a mirror, reflected the past, alluring and frightening at the same time, promising to reveal its secrets only to those who are willing to dedicate themselves to its study. It was not just a piece of parchment, but a door to another world, where truth is mixed with fiction, and history is intertwined with legends.

He sat in the dusty vault of the library, as if walled in a time capsule, among shelves filled with books, scrolls, and manuscripts, seemingly in the very heart of the past. The smell of old paper, binding glue, and age-old dust tickled his nostrils, creating a unique atmosphere steeped in knowledge and secrets.

The lamp on the table cast bizarre shadows on the shelves, turning familiar objects into mysterious silhouettes. Outside the window, Paris was buzzing, alive and modern, a city of lights and passions, with its fashion, bustle, and eternal pursuit of the new.

But here, in this quiet corner, time seemed to have stopped. The world outside the window seemed distant and unreal, like a scene from another film. Here, silence reigned, broken only by the quiet rustling of pages and the muffled ticking of ancient clocks, counting not minutes, but centuries.

Here, among these old books, one could feel the breath of history, touch the wisdom of the ages, hear the voices of those who lived long before us. It was a place where the past came alive, where one could forget about the present and look into the future, relying on the knowledge of ancestors.

The map, on which he had been working for several months, meticulously redrawing every line, every mark, was not merely a geographical scheme, but an echo of history, a reverberation of lost knowledge. It was a copy of an ancient document found in a secluded monastery in northern Syria, in the very heart of the ancient land where cultures and religions had mingled. The original, to his great regret, had fallen victim to recent battles, becoming one of the countless losses in the merciless war that was erasing not only lives but also memory from the face of the earth.

However, the copy, as if by chance or providence, had survived, preserving within it a spark of the past. Alexandre suspected that it was not just a map, not just a diagram of the location of certain objects. It was a key.

A key to a secret sleeping for centuries, to the solution of a question that had troubled the minds of philosophers and theologians for centuries. A key that, if used correctly, could overturn ideas about the origins of the two greatest religions in the world, about the roots of faith that unite and divide humanity.

He felt that he was on the threshold of a discovery capable of changing the course of history, but he also realized the danger that this knowledge held. For history, as is well known, is written by the victors, and the truth is often inconvenient and unwanted.

He leaned back in his creaky chair, upholstered in faded leather, and closed his eyes. The weight of the past day, the burden of the knowledge he was striving to grasp, pressed down on him like an invisible hand. His head buzzed with fatigue, like a swarm of disturbed bees, giving him no peace. Sleepless nights spent studying ancient texts, decaying parchments, deciphering mysterious symbols, arguing with himself – all of this was taking its toll. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, and an insistent ache throbbed in his temples.

But he could not stop. The thirst for knowledge, the desire to get to the bottom of the truth, the feeling that he was on the verge of a discovery that could change the world, were too strong to succumb to fatigue.

This feeling drove him forward, through the darkness of doubt and obstacles, like a beacon guiding a ship in a stormy sea. He understood that much depended on his work, that the truth he was seeking could bring both good and destruction. But he was ready to risk everything, just to solve this ancient mystery, just to get closer to understanding the origins of faith.

Suddenly, like a ray of sunlight breaking through dense clouds, his gaze fell on a detail that had previously escaped his attention. A small sign, barely discernible among other markings, located in modern-day Palestine, not far from Jerusalem – a city sacred to millions, a city that has become a crossroads of history and faith.

A sign he had seen before while leafing through the pages of ancient manuscripts, but had not paid attention to, considering it a random mark or decorative element. Two crossed crescents, their sharp horns seemingly embracing each other, within which is a stylized image of a cross, refined and elegant.

This symbol seemed to pulsate in the dimness of the library, attracting his gaze and igniting his curiosity. He felt a chill run down his spine, as a premonition of something important and extraordinary filled his mind.

This sign, like a key to solving a puzzle, could become the starting point for completely new research, for understanding how the two greatest religions in the world could have common roots that history had kept silent about.

Alexandre froze, as if struck by an electric shock. Time seemed to stand still, frozen in anticipation of discovery. His heart beat wildly, drumming an anxious rhythm in his ears, drowning out all other sounds.

He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, his hands trembling with excitement. He took out a magnifying glass, carefully, as if touching a fragile butterfly, and carefully studied the sign, trying to discern every tiny detail, every line, every curve. There was no doubt.

After examining it from all sides, he realized that it was not a random stroke of a pen, not a figment of the ancient cartographer’s imagination. It was a symbol. A symbol full of hidden meaning and forgotten meanings, a key to understanding that once, in the distant past, there was a faith that united elements of Islam and Christianity.

A faith erased from the memory of mankind, consigned to oblivion, but leaving its mark in this small sign. Alexandre felt a sense of awe overwhelm him.

He stood on the threshold of a discovery capable of changing the world, capable of building a bridge between two great religions, but he also realized the danger that this knowledge carried. After all, the world is not always ready for the truth, especially if it destroys established ideas and age-old traditions.

He stood up abruptly, as if obeying an invisible order, and went to the window, as if seeking an answer in the endless sky. Twilight was falling on Paris, enveloping the city in a soft, mysterious haze. The first lights were lit, turning the streets into sparkling rivers.

But Alexandre did not see the beauty of evening Paris. His thoughts were far away, in ancient Jerusalem, the city of three religions, a city that holds the secrets of centuries. An idea was taking root in his head. Crazy, daring, dangerous.

An idea that could turn his life upside down, jeopardize his career, perhaps even his freedom. But he could not abandon it. It had firmly lodged in his mind, demanding immediate action. He must go to Jerusalem.

He must find evidence of his hypothesis. He must prove that there was once a faith uniting Islam and Christianity. He must uncover this secret, even if it costs him everything. A sense of duty, a thirst for knowledge, and a belief that he was doing the right thing drove him forward, through fear and doubt. He knew that a difficult path awaited him, full of dangers and surprises. But he was ready for it. He was ready to risk everything for the sake of truth.

He knew what awaited him. Not only the skeptical glances of colleagues, scientific disputes and nitpicking criticism, scathing reviews and accusations of heresy. He understood that his research would affect someone’s interests, that his discovery could destroy carefully constructed ideological structures. But also opposition from those who do not want the truth to come out, those who prefer to live in a world of illusions and deception. Those who use religion not as a source of spiritual strength, but as a tool to achieve their selfish goals.

Those who are ready for anything to maintain power, influence and wealth, stopping at nothing, neither lies nor violence.

But he wasn’t afraid. There was fear, of course, but it was overcome by his thirst for knowledge and his pursuit of justice. He was ready for the struggle, for the difficulties, for the danger. Because he knew that more than just his scientific reputation, more than just his personal well-being, was at stake. Something more was at stake. Peace was at stake. Fragile, unstable, but still, peace. Peace between the minaret and the cross. Peace between people of different faiths, cultures, and beliefs. Peace based on mutual understanding, respect, and love. And for the sake of this peace, he was ready to give everything, even his life.

Chapter 1

The City of Three Religions

Jerusalem greeted him with stifling heat, enveloping him like a dense shroud, and deafening bustle, bursting into his consciousness in a colorful cacophony of sounds.

The narrow, winding streets of the Old City, like arteries of an ancient organism, teemed with tourists who had come from all corners of the world, pilgrims seeking spiritual enlightenment, and merchants beckoning customers in all sorts of languages.

The city lived its life, vibrant, rich, multifaceted, a life in which history and modernity, faith and disbelief, hope and despair harmoniously and simultaneously conflicted. Here, in Jerusalem, every stone breathed history, every alley held the secrets of centuries, every corner told its own unique story.

It was a city where the destinies of three great religions were intertwined, a city that had become a symbol of faith and hope for millions of people, a city that simultaneously unites and divides the world. And Alexandre was to find answers to his questions here, to uncover a secret that could change the course of history.

Alexandre rented a small, modest apartment in the Arab Quarter, deliberately choosing a location far from the tourist bustle, from intrusive gazes and idle curiosity. He needed a place where he could concentrate on his research, where he could immerse himself in the atmosphere of the city and feel its pulse.

From the window, there was a breathtaking view of the Al-Aqsa Mosque, majestic and at the same time calming, and the Dome of the Rock, glittering with gold in the rays of the scorching sun, like a symbol of hope and spirituality.

Every morning he woke up to the sounds of the muezzin calling to prayer, and these melodic, drawn-out sounds, spreading over the city, reminded him that he was in a sacred place, where every day is filled with faith and traditions.

This view, this sound, this atmosphere – all this helped him to tune in to work, to feel connected to the past and to get closer to understanding the mystery that he had come to solve.

Without wasting a moment, he immediately began his work. Discarding the fatigue after the flight and settling in, he plunged into the study of the city and its archives.

He visited the library of the National Museum of Israel, where he spent hours studying ancient texts and maps, trying to find at least some clue confirming his hypothesis.

He met with several well-known archaeologists and historians, hoping to get advice or a hint from them, shared his thoughts and listened to their opinions. With great difficulty, using all his connections and authority, he gained access to ancient manuscripts kept in secret archives, where access to outsiders was strictly prohibited. He understood that time was against him, that he had to act quickly and efficiently in order not to miss his chance. He was determined to find evidence of his hypothesis, even if he had to turn all of Jerusalem upside down.

He was looking for any clues, any evidence that could shed light on his theory, any mentions of a forgotten faith uniting Islam and Christianity. He carefully studied ancient texts, maps, archaeological finds, trying to find at least some confirmation of his hypothesis.

But so far unsuccessfully. Despite all his efforts, he could not find anything that could convince the skeptics.

Most of the scholars he spoke with treated his idea with great skepticism. They considered it naive and unrealistic, a product of his vivid imagination based on an insufficient number of facts. They argued that there were too many differences between Islam and Christianity to speak of any common faith in the past.

Their words, like a cold shower, poured down on his enthusiasm, but he did not give up. He believed in his hypothesis and was determined to prove it, despite all the obstacles.

Symbols can be interpreted in different ways,“ the professor replied, shaking his head. „History is full of examples of how people have mistaken wishful thinking for reality, how they have seen what they wanted to see. You shouldn’t build a theory on mere assumptions, based on vague symbols and dubious artifacts. You need solid evidence, Monsieur Dubois, irrefutable facts.

«Alexander understood that the professor was right. His words were full of wisdom and experience. But he couldn’t back down. Something inside him, some sixth sense, told him that he was on the right track. He felt that he was on the threshold of a great discovery, that he was close to unraveling a mystery that would change the world. And he was ready to go all the way, despite all the doubts and warnings.

One day, sitting in a small cafe in the heart of the Old City, smelling of coffee and spices, sipping strong Arabic coffee and pondering his unsuccessful searches, he accidentally overheard snippets of conversation between two young men sitting at the next table. They were talking in whispers, as if afraid of being overheard, and from time to time they looked around. The conversation concerned archaeological excavations that were being carried out near the Temple Mount, a place sacred to Jews, Muslims, and Christians.

«They say they’ve found something very important there,» said one of them, lowering his voice to a whisper. «Something that could change history. Something that could turn the world upside down.»

Alexander tensed, like a predator hearing a barely audible rustle in the grass. He felt hope awaken within him. He approached them and introduced himself, trying to speak calmly and casually.

«I am a historian,» he said, extending his hand. «My name is Alexander Dubois. And I’m interested in archaeological excavations, especially those that are being carried out in Jerusalem. Excuse me for intruding on your conversation, but I accidentally overheard you talking about some important find. May I know what you were talking about?»

The young men exchanged glances, as if deciding whether to trust him. In their eyes, there was distrust and caution.

«It’s a secret,» one of them replied, after a short pause. «Information that is not intended for outside ears. But if you’re really interested, if you’re really looking for the truth, come to the Western Wall tomorrow evening. You’ll find out everything there.»

Alexander hesitated. He didn’t know whether to trust these people. They seemed suspicious and secretive. He didn’t rule out that it might be a trap. But curiosity, a thirst for knowledge, and the hope that he would finally be able to find answers to his questions prevailed.

The skepticism of the professor from the Hebrew University, his cold, sobering view of his theory, sat in Alexander’s head like a splinter, causing irritation and doubt. He wandered through the labyrinth of narrow streets of the Old City, as if trying to find a way out of his reflections, trying to drive his words out of his head, but they sounded again and again, echoing in his mind: «You shouldn’t build a theory on mere assumptions. Science requires proof, not faith.» He understood that the professor was right, that his hypothesis remained only a hypothesis, based on circumstantial evidence and personal interpretations. But he could not shake the feeling that he was on the right track, that he was close to solving a mystery that was waiting in the wings. Doubts tormented him, tearing him between the desire to believe in his theory and the need to remain an objective and impartial scholar. He felt lonely and lost in this huge, ancient city, as if he were alone against the whole world.

Evening descended on Jerusalem. The golden light of the sunset painted the ancient walls in warm tones, but Alexander did not care about beauty. He felt lost and lonely.

Suddenly, like a ray of light breaking through the thick clouds of doubt, he remembered the meeting at the Western Wall, the mysterious proposal of the young men, sounded like a promise to reveal a long-kept secret. Maybe these guys know something that has escaped his attention, something that will help him in his desperate search, something that will become the key to solving the puzzle. Resolutely casting aside doubts, Alexander headed towards the Wall, a place sacred to Jews, a place where you can feel connected to the pastand turn to God with a prayer.

Approaching the Western Wall, in the light of the dim lanterns, he noticed two guys waiting for him. They were simply dressed, in ordinary clothes that did not stand out from the crowd, but in their eyes, there was some tension, even a hidden threat, as if they were ready to protect some secret at any cost. This look alerted Alexander, giving him a premonition of danger. He understood that this meeting could be not only useful but also risky.

«You came,» said Amir, a swarthy guy with short, thick dark hair, his eyes carefully studying Alexander, as if trying to read his thoughts. «Good. My name is Amir, and this is David,» he pointed to his companion.

«Alexander,» he replied, shaking Amir’s outstretched hand, feeling a slight tension in his muscles.

«We know who you are,» David grinned, a fair-haired guy with piercing blue eyes, his gaze seemed sharp and penetrating. «And we know what you’re looking for.»

Alexander was alarmed by this knowledge. He didn’t understand how these people could have learned about his research, about his hopes and fears. Who were they? And what were their motives?

«What do you know?» he asked cautiously, trying to hide his excitement.

«We know that you are looking for evidence of the existence of a common faith that united Islam and Christianity,» Amir replied, his voice sounding even and calm. «And we can help you.»

«Why do you want to help me?» Alexander didn’t trust them, feeling a hidden threat in their words. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been drawn into some game in which he had an undefined role.

«Because we are also looking for the truth,» David replied, his blue eyes blazing with a strange fire. «We believe that knowledge of the past can change the future. We believe that the truth must be revealed, even if it is inconvenient and dangerous.»

«What are you proposing?» Alexander asked, ready to hear any information, even if it seemed incredible.

«We know about secret excavations that are being carried out under the Temple Mount,» Amir replied, lowering his voice to a whisper, as if afraid of being overheard. «They found something there that might interest you.»

Alexander held his breath. He had heard about these excavations, about rumors of some incredible finds, but the authorities kept everything strictly secret, not allowing outsiders to access them.

«How can you show it to me?» he asked, realizing that great danger awaited him.

«It’s dangerous,» David replied, his gaze becoming serious and warning. «The excavations are guarded, and the authorities don’t want anyone to know about these finds. They will try to hide the truth at any cost. But if you’re willing to risk it, if you really want to know the truth, we can get in there at night.»

Alexander hesitated. He understood that this could be a trap. But he could not miss such an opportunity.

«I agree,» he said.

«Then come to the Lion’s Gate tomorrow night,» Amir replied. «Exactly at midnight. Don’t be late.»

They parted, like shadows, dissolving into the dense crowd that, like a river, flowed ceaselessly through the narrow streets of the Old City. Alexander remained standing at the Western Wall, alone, looking at the ancient stones, over which the rays of the moon slid. A storm of emotions raged in his head: excitement, fear, hope, and a premonition of something great and unknown.

He felt that his life had changed forever. From the moment he made the decision to take a risk, stepping on this dangerous path, his fate was already predetermined. He could no longer return to his former life, to quiet days in the library, to scholarly debates within the walls of the university. Now, he would face a struggle, a struggle for the truth, a struggle against unknown enemies, a struggle that could lead to glory or destruction.

He touched the cold stones of the Wall with his hand, as if hoping to receive support and strength from them. He knew that a difficult path lay ahead of him, full of dangers and surprises. But he was ready for it. He was ready to risk everything for his dream, for the revelation of a secret that could possibly change the world.

The Western Wall remained silent, holding within it the age-old secrets and hopes of millions of people. Alexander stood before it, a small man in the face of eternity, and knew that from now on, his life was forever connected with these sacred stones and with the city that had become his destiny.

The next day, Alexander spent in the library of the National Museum, as if under siege, buried in dusty tomes and ancient maps, in a desperate attempt to find at least some information about the secret excavations being carried out under the Temple Mount. He was looking for any mentions, any clues, any hints that could shed light on what was happening there, but his efforts were in vain. Everything was classified, as if covered with a thick layer of the dust of time and carefully guarded from prying eyes. Information seemed to have evaporated, disappeared from all available sources, leaving Alexander completely in the dark.

All day long, doubts tormented him, like a swarm of annoying insects. Should he trust Amir and David, these mysterious young men who appeared out of nowhere and offered him help? Were they luring him into a trap, pursuing their own hidden goals? Were they part of some complex game in which he was just a pawn? These questions gnawed at his brain, giving him no peace for a minute. He felt that he was being followed, that he was being watched, that someone wanted to prevent him from getting to the truth.

But, despite all the doubts and fears, he could not back down. Too much was at stake, too great was the chance to uncover a secret that could change the world. He had already crossed the line, and now there was no turning back. He had to go all the way, even if it cost him everything.

In the evening, when night fell on Jerusalem, enveloping it in a mysterious shadow, Alexander, like a conspirator creeping in the dark, headed towards the Lion’s Gate, also known as St. Stephen’s Gate. Each step echoed loudly in the empty alleys, intensifying the tension that gripped his entire body.

His heart was pounding in his chest, like a bird caught in a cage, its beats echoing in his ears. His breathing quickened, and his throat became dry. He felt that something important awaited him, something that could turn his life upside down. Something that could change the world, or at least his perception of it.

Fear and excitement mixed into a strange cocktail, giving him strength and paralyzing him at the same time. He knew that this night could be a turning point in his life, that his decisions and actions would determine not only his fate but also, possibly, the fate of the whole world.

He walked in the dark, as if towards his destiny, ready for any trials that awaited him. He knew that the risk was great, but his belief that he was doing the right thing gave him courage and determination. He must get to the truth, no matter what it cost him.

Approaching the Lion’s Gate, somber and majestic in the light of the sparse street lamps, Alexander saw Amir and David, waiting for him in the shadows. They stood motionless, their faces hidden in the dim light, but Alexander felt their tense anticipation, their readiness for action.

«Ready?» Amir asked, his voice sounding muffled and serious. In his eyes, which flashed in the moonlight, there was determination and confidence.

Alexander nodded, trying to hide the excitement that gripped him from head to toe. He felt a lump rise in his throat but managed to swallow it, gathering all his willpower.

«Then let’s go,» David said, his voice sounding warningly. «But be careful. There may be guards here, and they will not stand on ceremony with intruders. We need to act quickly and silently so as not to attract attention.»

hey set off, like ghosts gliding through the night, their steps quiet and cautious. Alexander followed them, trying to keep up and not make unnecessary noise. He felt adrenaline surging through his blood, sharpening all his senses. He was ready for anything, for any danger that might lie in wait for them on this nocturnal adventure.

They moved into the darkness, creeping like thieves. Alexander followed them, feeling the tension rising. He knew that danger lay ahead. But he was ready to risk everything for the sake of the truth.

The Lion’s Gate remained behind. Amir confidently led them through the labyrinth of narrow alleys. David, walking behind, kept looking back, as if expecting a chase. Alexander struggled to keep up with them, stumbling on cobblestones and cursing his city shoes.

The silence of the night, which covered the ancient city like a velvet blanket, was broken only by the rare howling of the wind, sweeping through the narrow streets like a ghost, and muffled voices coming from open windows, like snippets of other people’s lives, spied through a keyhole. Every sound, every shadow seemed ominous and threatening.

Alexander felt the tension building with every step, with every minute spent in this utter darkness. His heart hammered in his chest like a mad drummer, and his breathing became intermittent and uneven. He felt himself being watched, as if someone was stalking him, ready to attack at any moment.

Fragments of thoughts flashed through his head, like frames from an old movie, jumbled and illogical. Concerns for his life mingled with the anticipation of discovery, with the hope of finding what he had been searching for so long. He thought about the professor from the Hebrew University, about his skepticism and doubts. He imagined how surprised the professor would be if he managed to prove his hypothesis.

He thought about what might await him ahead, about the dangers he would have to overcome. He understood that the risk was great, but he was ready to go all the way, ready to risk everything for the sake of the truth.

Finally, after a long and exhausting wandering through the labyrinth of narrow streets, Amir stopped at an inconspicuous wall, thickly overgrown with ivy, as if trying to hide its secrets from prying eyes. The wall seemed to be part of an ancient, dilapidated building, abandoned and forgotten by everyone.

He quickly looked around, making sure that no one saw them, that there were no guards or curious passersby around. His movements were quick and precise, as if honed by years of training. Taking a small tool out of his pocket, resembling a lock pick, he deftly opened the old, rusty lock hanging on the narrow wooden door, as if guarding the entrance to some secret world.

«Here,» he whispered, opening the door. It yielded with a quiet creak, opening a narrow passage leading deep into the wall. «Be careful. It can be dangerous here. It’s dark inside, and we don’t know what awaits us. But if we want to know the truth, we must take the risk.»

They went inside, stepping over the threshold, as if crossing the boundary between reality and mystery. The door creaked quietly behind them, closing, cutting them off from the outside world, plunging them into total darkness.

Before them stretched a dark corridor, long and narrow, like a gut, dug in the bowels of the earth. It smelled of dampness and mustiness, of antiquity and oblivion. The air was heavy and stale, as if no one had breathed here for centuries.

Amir took a small but powerful flashlight out of his pocket, and the narrow beam of light cut through the dense darkness, snatching from the gloom a vaulted ceiling made of rough stone. The ceiling was low, oppressive, as if threatening to collapse at any moment.

«These are ancient catacombs,» David explained, his voice echoing in the narrow space. «They lead directly under the Temple Mount, to the excavation site. These catacombs were dug centuries ago, and who knows what secrets they hold.»

«How did you find out about this place?» Alexander asked, his curiosity overcoming his fear. He didn’t understand how these young men had been able to find the entrance to this secret place, which had been hidden from the whole world.

«We have our own sources,» Amir replied evasively, avoiding a direct answer. He clearly didn’t want to reveal his connections and his methods. «The main thing is that we are here. And we have a chance to see what the authorities are hiding from us.»

They moved down the corridor, cautiously stepping on the uneven floor, trying not to stumble over the stones and debris lying under their feet. Each step echoed loudly in the narrow space, increasing the feeling of isolation and danger.

With each step, it became colder and damper, as if they were plunging into the very heart of the earth. The cold pierced to the bone, making them shiver. The walls of the corridor were covered with a thick layer of mold, and they gave off an unpleasant smell of rot and decay. It seemed that time itself had stopped here, leaving behind only decay and desolation.

After a while, which seemed like an eternity to Alexander, they came to a fork. Two corridors diverged in different directions, disappearing into the impenetrable darkness. It was unclear where to go next. Alexander felt anxiety grip him. He understood that they could get lost in this labyrinth of catacombs and never get out to the surface.»

««Where to next?» Alexander asked, trying to hide the anxiety in his voice. He completely relied on Amir and David, hoping that they knew where they were going.

«To the right,» Amir replied, confidently turning into one of the corridors. His confidence slightly reassured Alexander. «The entrance to the excavation site is there. We’re almost there. Just a little bit left.»

They walked for about ten more long and tense minutes, during which it seemed to Alexander that time had stopped. Every step echoed loudly in the narrow corridor, increasing the feeling of anxiety and anticipation.

Finally, they reached a massive stone door, rough and ancient, behind which, apparently, was what they were looking for, what they had made this dangerous journey for. The door was locked with several locks, complex and reliable, but Amir and David, armed with lock picks and other tools that they handled with the skill of professional burglars, quickly dealt with them. The locks opened one after another with a quiet click, as if yielding to the onslaught of time and persistence.

«Ready?» David asked, opening the door, behind which yawned impenetrable darkness. In his voice, there was a slight excitement, mixed with anticipation.

Alexander nodded, feeling his heart pounding in his chest like a wildly beating drum. He understood that they were on the threshold of something important, that a meeting with the unknown awaited them, which could change his life and his perception of the world.

They entered a spacious room, as if stepping from the dark womb of the earth into the shining belly of history. The dim but numerous lights, hung around the perimeter, fought with the age-old darkness, but could not defeat it completely, creating an atmosphere of mystery and sacredness.

Before them lay a panorama worthy of the most captivating documentaries. Excavations were in full swing. Workers in khaki uniforms, with sweat on their foreheads and earth on their faces, were digging in the ground like moles, bringing ancient artifacts to light. Each swing of the pickaxe, each movement of the shovel, each touch of the brush to the fragile find was accompanied by a quiet whisper of prayer.

«What is this?» Alexander whispered, gazing in fascination at the scene that opened up before him. He seemed to have become numb, not believing his eyes. Theories and books were left far behind; before him was living history that could be touched.

«These are the remains of an ancient temple,» Amir replied, his voice sounding muffled and respectful. «They say it was built even before Solomon.»

He paused, as if gathering his thoughts, and continued: «Legends say that this sanctuary was erected by the Canaanites, the indigenous people of this land, long before the arrival of the Jews. It was called the Temple of El-Elyon, the temple of the Most High God. Here, not only El-Elyon was worshiped, but also other deities of the Canaanite pantheon. They say that sacrifices were offered here, rituals were performed, sacred rites were held, designed to appease the gods and ensure the fertility of the land.»

David added, lowering his voice: «Some historians believe that this temple was not just a place of worship, but a center of power, where priest-kings ruled, wielding enormous influence over the lives of people. Jerusalem was then not just a city, but a sacred place, the center of the world, where heaven and earth intersected.»

Alexander held his breath, listening to the story of Amir and David. He remembered his research, his search for a common faith uniting Islam and Christianity. He remembered the Canaanite deities, about El-Elyon, about his connection with Yahweh, the God of Israel. He realized that he was on the verge of a discovery that could overturn all his ideas about the past.

Alexander looked around, his eyes greedily absorbing every detail, every fragment of history that opened up before him. He saw fragments of columns, crowned with exquisite capitals, testifying to the skill of the ancient builders. He saw pieces of mosaic, which once adorned the floors of the temple, preserving bright colors, like a frozen moment of the past. He saw fragments of statues, depicting, probably, deities or heroes whose names have long been forgotten.

Everything around spoke of the fact that once there stood a magnificent temple dedicated to some ancient deity, the worship of which was an integral part of the lives of people who lived on this land long before the advent of Christianity and Islam.

He tried to imagine what this temple looked like in its heyday: its high vaults, decorated with carvings, its altars, sparkling with gold, its priests performing rituals while chanting prayers. He wanted to touch these stones, feel their energy, feel a connection with those who once lived and believed here.

Alexander saw the workers carefully extracting from the ground the remains of an altar, covered with a layer of ancient dust. He saw one of the workers carefully lift a small clay pot, possibly a vessel for sacrifices. Questions were born in his head that he could not allow himself to voice, fearing to attract attention. He realized that he was opening not just an archaeological find, but a window into the past, which could overturn all his ideas about history.

Suddenly, one of the workers, busy cleaning the clay vessel, accidentally raised his head and noticed the uninvited guests, frozen in the shadows. His face twisted in surprise, and he shouted loudly:

«Who’s there?»

At the same second, as if on command, the lights went out in the room. The dim lamps that illuminated the excavations went out at once, plunging everything into impenetrable darkness, which seemed to thicken and become even denser.

«Run!» David shouted, his voice sounding sharp and agitated. He immediately grabbed Alexander’s hand and, pushing him in the back, dragged him away from danger.

Panic gripped the room. The workers screamed, trying to understand what was happening. There were sounds of stumbling people, falling objects, the stomp of feet running in different directions. Alexander, stunned and disoriented, felt his heart beat wildly in his chest. He tried to get his bearings in the dark, but could not see anything. He fully relied on Amir and David, who knew the way and had to get him out of this death trap.

They rushed back to the door, hoping to find salvation in the catacombs, but it was too late. Harsh voices were heard from the darkness, and figures of guards, who appeared as if from underground, loomed over them.

«Stop!» one of them shouted, his voice sounding stern and commanding. «You are under arrest!»

Alexander realized that he had fallen into a trap, that all their efforts and hopes had been in vain. But he was not going to give up without a fight. He had to see what these excavations were hiding, to find out the truth, no matter what it cost him. He could not allow himself to be caught before he knew the answers to his questions.

Flashlights flashed, snatching the figures of the guards from the darkness and blinding them. The guards surrounded them, pointing their weapons at them, ready to use force at any moment. Alexander looked around for a way out, hoping to find some chance, some way to escape. He saw Amir and David peering intently into the faces of the guards, trying to understand their intentions.

Alexander understood that this could be the end of his research, the end of his path to the truth. And, possibly, the end of his life. Cold fear gripped him, but deep down he felt the determination to fight to the end, not to surrender without a fight. His gaze darted around the room, looking for a way out, looking for at least some hope.

Chapter 2
Escape to Syria

Time seemed to slow down, turning seconds into eternity. The bright beam of a flashlight, snatching a huge hall from the darkness, showed Alexander something he did not expect at all. Around them, tightening the ring, guards emerged from the shadows, their faces impenetrable, and in their hands gleamed, reflecting the light of the flashlights, the barrels of pistols. Moments ago, their surroundings were filled only with dampness and antiquity, and now – with deadly threat. Adrenaline rushed into his blood, instantly sharpening his senses. His vision became clearer, his hearing sharper, even the smell of dampness seemed sharper than usual. Every movement, every breath of the guards seemed to take on special significance. Alexander understood that now, at this critical moment, not only his own life, but also the fate of his companions, and perhaps what they came to find in these catacombs, depended on his next step, on his next decision. The realization of this pressed down on him with an unbearable weight, demanding an immediate decision, an instant reaction.

«Don’t move!» one of the guards roared, his voice, distorted by the echo, sounded like thunder in the middle of the night silence. It was a young guy, with a malicious expression on his face, as if hatred for the intruders was overflowing him. «Hands behind your heads! Otherwise, we’ll open fire to kill!»

Amir and David exchanged glances, despair and determination flashing in their eyes. Slowly, obeying the order, they raised their hands behind their heads. Alexander followed their example, feeling the cold metal of the pistol touch his temple. He was frantically figuring out what to do, how to get out of this death trap. Run? Useless. They are surrounded, and it is simply impossible to leave unnoticed. Resist? Pointless. They have no weapons, and they will not be able to resist the armed guards. There was only one thing left – to improvise, to try to wriggle out of this situation, using all his knowledge and skills.

«We are tourists,» Alexander blurted out, trying to speak calmly and confidently, so as not to betray his fear. «We just got lost. We were walking around the Old City and accidentally stumbled upon this entrance. We didn’t know that excavations were being carried out here.»

«Don’t lie!» the guard shouted, his face contorted with anger. «We know who you are. We’ve been watching you since this morning. You wanted to steal ancient artifacts! You’re spies sent by competitors!»

«We didn’t want to steal anything,» Alexander continued, not losing hope of convincing them of his innocence. «We just wanted to see. We are fond of history. We are scientists; we are looking for the truth.»

The guard snorted contemptuously, his eyes narrowed, expressing complete disbelief.

«Shut up! Now you will all tell us everything at the police station. But first, tell me who sent you here! Otherwise, I will be forced to use force!»

The guards began to approach, tightening the ring, ready to tie them up and escort them to the nearest police station. Their hands reached for handcuffs, and their eyes burned with malice and suspicion. At this critical moment, when it seemed that there was no hope of salvation, Amir suddenly shouted something in Arabic, his words sounded like a spell, like a call to action. He leaned over sharply and threw a handful of earth under the feet of the nearest guards. A cloud of dust rose into the air, blinding eyes, causing coughs and tears.

Taking advantage of the sudden confusion, David pounced on one of the guards. Grabbing him by the arm, he sharply pulled him towards himself, using his weight against him. The guard lost his balance and fell to the ground with a dull groan, pulling down two more who were nearby. A small scuffle arose, in which dust and darkness created chaos and confusion.

Run!» Amir shouted, pushing Alexander in the back. His voice sounded desperate but at the same time resolute.

They rushed into the darkness, dodging rubble, boxes of artifacts, and deep pits dug by archaeologists. Adrenaline propelled them forward, making them forget about fear and fatigue. The guards, blinded by the dust and confused by the sudden attack, hesitated for a moment, trying to recover and orient themselves. But then, cursing everything in the world, they rushed into the chase, their steps echoing in the empty corridors.

Alexander ran, gasping for air, his lungs burned as if boiling water was splashing in them. His heart was pounding at a frantic rate, as if trying to break out of his chest. He did not see where he was running, orienting himself only on the vague silhouettes of Amir and David, looming ahead. He completely trusted them, knowing that they were leading him to salvation. Behind him, he could hear the shouts of the guards, their angry screams and the thud of approaching footsteps drove them forward, not allowing them to stop for a second.

Suddenly, Amir sharply turned into a narrow passage, which turned out to be a dead end. A wall blocked their path, leaving no chance for further escape.

«What now?» Alexander asked, gasping for air, feeling despair beginning to grip him. He didn’t understand why Amir had brought them to this dead end, was it the end?

«There’s a secret passage here,» David replied, not losing his composure. He ran his palms over the rough stone wall, carefully feeling every protrusion, every crack. «I know this place. My grandfather told me legends about these catacombs, about secret passages leading to freedom.»

His fingers felt something different from the rest of the wall’s surface. He pressed on a barely noticeable button, and a narrow gap opened in the wall with a quiet creak, wide enough to squeeze through.

«Faster!» Amir commanded, urging Alexander. «We don’t have time! They’ll be here soon!»

One by one, they squeezed through the opening and found themselves in a narrow, dark tunnel. David closed the hidden door behind them, and they were left in complete silence, broken only by their heavy breathing. Behind the hidden door, the shouts and stomping of the guards could still be heard, but they were safe, at least for the moment.

«Where are we?» Alexander whispered, trying not to raise his voice. He looked around, but nothing could be seen in the pitch darkness of the tunnel. A feeling of disorientation and fear paralyzed his movements.

«In an ancient aqueduct,» David replied, his voice sounding muffled but confident. «It was built centuries ago to supply the city with water. It leads to an exit from under the Temple Mount, to a safe place.»

They moved through the tunnel, stumbling and bumping into the damp walls, like blind kittens wandering in a maze. Thick moisture hung in the air, soaking their clothes and skin. Each step echoed in the narrow space, creating the feeling that they were being pursued.

After a while, which seemed like an eternity to Alexander, they came to a narrow well leading to the surface. Iron staples went up, hammered into the wall of the well, like steps leading to salvation.

Amir was the first to start climbing the staples, his movements were quick and confident. David followed, helping Alexander find a foothold. Alexander, feeling his muscles aching, his hands trembling, began to climb after them, overcoming the fear of heights and fatigue.

Finally, exhausted and soaked to the skin, they got to the surface. It turned out that they were in the old Arab quarter, away from the Temple Mount, in a narrow alley, between two dilapidated houses. The night air was fresh and cool, like a breath of life after the stuffy and gloomy dungeon.

«We got away,» Amir sighed in relief, wiping the sweat from his brow. «This time. But we can’t relax. They will be looking for us.»

«What was that?» Alexander asked, trying to catch his breath and gather his thoughts. «Who are you? Why are they hunting you? And what were you doing there, under the Temple Mount?»

Amir and David exchanged glances, as if exchanging unspoken words. Their eyes revealed determination and mystery.

«We are those who seek the truth,» Amir replied, his voice sounding quiet but firm. «And we are ready to risk everything to find it. This truth can change the world, but many do not want it to come to light.»

«But what did you find there, at the excavations?» Alexander insisted, his curiosity flaring up with renewed vigor. «What is hidden there? What is so valuable that you are being hunted like this?»

David paused, as if weighing each word before answering.

«We saw ancient symbols there,» he said. «Symbols that unite Islam and Christianity. Symbols that prove that we have common roots, that our religions came from the same source.»

«What kind of symbols?» Alexander craved details. He felt excitement wash over him. Could they have found something that really could turn history upside down?

«It’s a complicated question,» Amir replied, his voice sounding evasive. «We can’t tell you everything right now. It’s too dangerous. But if you want to know the truth, if you really want to help us, you must trust us. And be ready for anything. Because those who hide this truth will stop at nothing to stop us.»

Alexander looked at Amir and David, trying to penetrate their thoughts, to understand what they were hiding behind their mysterious glances. He felt that they were holding something back, that there was much more behind their words than they were willing to reveal to him. But he also understood that they were his only hope of uncovering the mystery that had haunted him for so long. He stifled his doubts, deciding to trust his intuition.

«I trust you,» he said, looking them straight in the eyes. «What’s next? What should we do?»

«Next, we must leave Jerusalem,» David replied, his voice sounding serious and worried. «It’s too dangerous here. We are already being hunted, and staying here is certain death. We need to find a place where we can safely study these symbols, where the agents of the government and religious fanatics will not get to us.»

«Where are we going? Where can we hide?»

«To Syria,» Amir replied, his gaze becoming thoughtful. «There, in one of the ancient monasteries lost in the mountains, lies the key to solving this mystery. This monastery is a real treasure trove of knowledge; its archives contain ancient manuscripts and scrolls that can shed light on the origin of these symbols and their true meaning. The monks of this monastery are the guardians of ancient traditions and secrets; they have been protecting knowledge for centuries that can change the world. But the road to Syria will not be easy. There is a war going on there now, and getting to the monastery will be extremely dangerous. We will have to cross borders, avoid checkpoints, and take shelter from bombings. But if we want to know the truth, we must take the risk. In Syria, we will find not only danger, but also hope. The hope that we can find answers to our questions and uncover the mystery that unites Islam and Christianity.»

They fled, like thieves in the night, leaving behind Jerusalem, the sacred city, which had become a death trap for them. Alexander watched through the taxi window as the night city, like a mirage woven from lights and shadows, gradually melted into the rearview mirror, turning into a memory full of danger and mysteries. Adrenaline, which had recently been surging in his blood like a rushing stream, gradually receded, leaving behind only exhausting fatigue and gnawing anxiety. He felt like a squeezed lemon, exhausted physically and mentally.

Nearby, in the back seat, sat Amir and David, immersed in silence. They seemed detached from what was happening, as if they were somewhere far away, in their own thoughts. Alexander felt their wariness, their hidden tension, as if they were constantly expecting an attack. Who were they really? Allies sent by fate to help him uncover the mystery, or a cleverly laid trap, part of a complex game in which he was just a pawn? He couldn’t trust them completely, but turning away from them now would mean condemning himself to certain death. He found himself in the position of a person walking on thin ice, where every wrong step could lead to disaster.

«We are those who seek the truth,» Alexander repeated to himself, trying to understand the true meaning of this phrase. But what is hidden behind these words? What hidden motives, what personal goals do these two pursue, risking their lives for ancient secrets, for certain symbols found in the catacombs beneath the Temple Mount? Alexander wondered: what is the price of this truth? And is he ready to pay it, even if it costs him his life?

Yesterday’s escape from under the Temple Mount now seemed to him like a wild dream, terrible and incredible. As if in delirium, he again and again scrolled through all the events in his memory, starting from the anxious whisper of Amir at the wall overgrown with ivy, and ending with the rapid escape in the narrow corridors. Alexander recalled the cries of the guards, their angry faces, the narrow, dark corridors, smelling of dampness and mold, and the icy water of the ancient aqueduct, burning his skin. He felt in his memory every heartbeat, every drop of sweat, every breath taken on that day.

And most importantly – those strange, mesmerizing symbols, which they managed to see in the flickering light of the lamps, as if snatched from the depths of centuries, mysteriously shining in the twilight. Symbols, in which, according to David, the key to solving the mystery of a common faith is hidden, a mystery capable of changing the world. Alexander understood that it was these symbols, this mystery, that had now become for him the only goal, the only meaning of existence.

«What symbols?» This question gnawed at Alexander’s brain, like a pesky fly, not giving him a minute’s peace. It was as if he was stuck on repeat in his head, interrupting all other thoughts. He repeatedly tried to imagine what these signs could be, uniting two such different, warring religions. David promised to tell everything later, when they were in a safe place, but his evasiveness, his constant reservations only increased Alexander’s suspicions, making him doubt the sincerity of his companions.

The car sped down the highway, slicing through the night darkness, carrying them away from Jerusalem, a city full of secrets and dangers, into the unknown, into a country engulfed in war. Alexander did not know what awaited him ahead, what trials he would have to go through, what dangers lurked at every step. But he knew one thing: he could not stop, could not back down. He had gone too far, had gotten too close to solving the mystery, to turn back now. He felt that something unknown, but powerful, was pulling him forward, like a magnet, attracting him to the unexplored, to the disclosure of the truth, which might change his life forever.

«Where are we going?» Alexander asked, breaking the oppressive silence that reigned in the car. His voice sounded a little hoarse, betraying fatigue and tension.

«To Damascus,» Amir replied, his gaze fixed ahead, into the darkness of the night. «From there we will go to one of the ancient monasteries, lost in the mountains, far from cities and human eyes.»

«There is a war going on in Syria now,» Alexander reminded, anxiety in his voice. «It’s dangerous. There are constant battles, bombs exploding, people dying.

«We know,» David nodded, his eyes meeting Alexander’s for a moment. «But this is the only way to get to what we’re looking for. There’s no other way. The monastery is located in a remote area controlled by rebels. It is impossible to get there legally.»

Alexander imagined Syria, a country torn apart by war, a country where the ruins of cities coexist with ancient monuments, where despair and hope are intertwined in a bizarre pattern. He saw in his imagination the burnt-out skeletons of houses, the walls riddled with bullets, the tearful faces of women and children who had lost everything. He heard the roar of planes, the whistle of falling bombs, the cries of the wounded and the mourning for the dead. He felt the smell of burning, blood, and death hanging in the air. Syria appeared to him not just as a geographical point on the map, but as a living organism, bleeding, suffering, and fighting for survival. The upcoming journey seemed to him like a road to hell, a journey into the very heart of darkness. Shivers ran down his skin at the very thought of it. He understood that they were facing not just an adventure, but a real struggle for survival in a world where there is no place for mercy and compassion.

Alexander did not argue, although anxiety and fear squeezed his heart in an icy fist. He understood that he, in essence, had no choice. He had voluntarily linked his fate with these two people, trusted them, trusted his intuition, which suggested that they knew the answers to the questions that tormented him. He trusted, in the end, his faith that he was on the right track, that he must go this path to the end, despite all the dangers and difficulties.

The road to Damascus took almost the entire day. They drove through desolate landscapes, scarred by war, past dilapidated villages, abandoned cars, and checkpoints where armed men in dirty uniforms suspiciously examined their documents. Alexander felt the tension rising with every kilometer, as the air thickened, as if before astorm. He saw in the eyes of Amir and David the same anxiety, the same determination as in his own. They were driving into the very heart of the war, into a city where death lurked at every corner, and each of them understood this.

At the border, they were stopped by soldiers, dressed in battered uniforms, their faces, exhausted by the war, expressed no emotions. Riflemen warily watched their every movement, as if expecting a trick. They carefully checked the documents, meticulously studying every seal, every signature, as if looking for the slightest discrepancy. They asked tricky questions, trying to expose lies, provoking mistakes. Alexander tried to remain calm, maintain a composed appearance, not betraying his inner turmoil, which was ready to burst out. He felt sweat trickling down his back, his mouth drying up, his heart pounding wildly, ready to jump out of his chest. He understood that their life depended on their composure and ability to convince. Fortunately, after long and agonizing minutes of waiting, everything was fine. The soldiers, finding nothing suspicious, reluctantly returned their documents and let them through. Alexander sighed in relief, feeling the tension slowly receding.

By evening, they reached Damascus. The city was full of refugees fleeing the war.

The streets of Damascus were filled with chaos and poverty, a picture as if descended from the canvases of apocalyptic artists. Destroyed buildings, yawning with black voids of windows, resembled skulls eaten away by time, silently testifying to the destructive power of war. Piles of garbage, dumped right on the sidewalks, blocked the way, exuding a suffocating stench of rotting organic matter and burned plastic. Children, barefoot and dressed in rags, rummaged through these wastes, like hungry chicks, looking for at least something edible. Their faces, smeared with dirt, expressed unchildlike fatigue and despair.

Alexander stopped near one of the piles of garbage, unable to tear his gaze away from a little girl, desperately fighting a dirty dog for a scrap of bread. «Amir, look,» he whispered, feeling a lump rise in his throat. «We have to do something.»

Amir sighed heavily, looking at this scene. «We can’t help everyone, Alexander,» he replied. «If we give money to every needy person, we will be robbed, and it won’t help them. What’s needed here is not handouts, but peace.»

David approached them, holding two bottles of water. «I saw a shop nearby,» he said. «I bought water and some bread. It’s a little, but it’s better than nothing.»

He went to the girl and offered her bread and water. The girl, looking around in fright, grabbed the food and immediately disappeared into one of the back alleys.

Nearby, on the rubble of a destroyed building, sat an old man, a legless invalid, playing an old, out-of-tune violin. His playing was sad and monotonous, as if lamenting the dead city.

«What’s wrong with him?» Alexander asked.

«He lost his legs in a bombing,» Amir replied. «Now he plays in the streets, trying to earn a piece of bread.»

«Do we have anything?» Alexander asked, turning to David.

David took out a few bills from his pocket and put them in the old man’s outstretched hand. The old man nodded gratefully, continuing to play his sad melody.

Armed men stood on every corner, dressed in uniforms of different colors, symbolizing warring factions. They suspiciously looked at passers-by, ready to use weapons at any moment. Alexander felt like an uninvited guest in this world of suffering, as if he had invaded someone else’s tragedy, as if he was not worthy of this grief. He felt ashamed of his well-fed and peaceful life, of the world that he had left behind.

«We must be careful,» Amir repeated, looking around with concern. «It’s dangerous here. This city is a powder keg, ready to explode at any moment. We need to find a safe place, hide from prying eyes, and contact our people. They will help us get to the monastery.»

Amir and David brought Alexander to an old, dilapidated house in one of the poorest and most abandoned quarters of Damascus. The house seemed to breathe history, but this history was full of suffering and deprivation. Cracks spread like cobwebs across the walls, peeling paint exposed the brickwork, and crooked windows with broken glass let in drafts and the noise of the city. Here, in a cramped room, furnished with old, worn furniture, they were to spend several days, preparing for a further, even more dangerous journey. The room smelled of dampness, mold, and dust; it seemed as if time had stopped here.

«We will be safe here,» Amir assured, examining the room. «No one will look for us in this godforsaken place. No one will find us here. The locals keep to themselves and don’t like strangers, so we won’t attract attention. Try not to go outside unless necessary and don’t talk to strangers. The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better.»

Alexander looked around. The room really seemed gloomy and uncomfortable, like a reflection of the hopelessness that reigned outside its walls. The dim light, penetrating through the dirty windows, thickened the shadows, making the objects even more sinister. The old furniture, covered with a layer of dust, seemed alien and uncomfortable. In the corner stood a lopsided closet, from which the paint was peeling, and stains of mold were visible on the walls. The smell of dampness and mustiness permeated everything, penetrating clothes and skin. But Alexander didn’t care. After what he had experienced, after the escape from under the Temple Mount, after a road full of dangers and deprivations, this room seemed to him like a paradise. The main thing was that he was alive. And he was on his way to his goal, to solving the mystery that occupied all his thoughts. The gloomy surroundings did not matter, because his spirit burned with a thirst for knowledge, and nothing could stop him.

In the evening, when it got dark and the room was plunged into twilight, lit only by the dim light of a kerosene lamp, David brought several old books and scrolls, tied with a yellowed rope. He put them on the table, covered with dust and crumbs, and looked at Alexander with a serious expression on his face.

«Here,» he said, handing them to Alexander. «Study. Here you will find answers to your questions. Here are collected ancient texts, legends, and traditions that can shed light on the mystery of the symbols we saw under the Temple Mount. But be careful, Alexander. This knowledge can be dangerous. It can change your perception of the world, of religion, of life itself. Be prepared for what you learn may shock and disappoint you. And most importantly, don’t tell anyone about it. We don’t know who can be trusted and who cannot.»

Alexander took the books and began to examine them. These were ancient texts in different languages: Arabic, Greek, Latin. Some of them were handwritten, others were printed on old printing presses.

«What are these books?» Alexander asked

«These are books about ancient religions, about mystical teachings, about secret societies,» David replied. «In them you will find mentions of those symbols that we saw at the excavations.»

Alexander, with a sinking heart, opened one of the books. Its pages were yellowed with age, inscribed in calligraphic handwriting in ancient Aramaic. With each page, he was captured by the world of ancient secrets and mysteries, a world full of mysticism and mythology.

The first lines described the legend of King Solomon, who, according to legends, possessed not only wisdom, but also power over the jinn, the spirits of the desert. The book claimed that Solomon built the First Temple not only as a place of worship to God, but also as a repository of ancient knowledge, passed down from generation to generation from Adam himself.

The book stated: «King Solomon, may blessings be upon him, was not only famous for his wisdom, but also for his power over the jinn, the spirits of the desert. And he erected the First Temple not only as a place of worship to the Most High, but also as a repository of secret knowledge, passed down from Adam, our ancestor, from generation to generation.»

Further on, there were descriptions of various symbols, many of which were familiar to Alexander from Christian and Islamic iconography: the cross, the crescent, the Star of David, the Eye of Horus… But in the book, as if in a mirror, they appeared in a different light, their usual meanings disintegrated, revealing new, deeper, and more unexpected meanings. Each symbol, like a key, opened the door to a labyrinth of ancient knowledge, forcing a rethinking of familiar concepts of faith and the universe. But in the book, they were given a different, deeper meaning.

The Star of David, for example, was considered not just as a generally accepted Jewish symbol, but as a graphic representation of the deepest cosmogonic principle. Two equilateral triangles, one pointing apex upwards, and the other – downwards, symbolized the interaction of male and female principles, active and passive, heavenly and earthly. The upper triangle, representing the masculine principle, symbolized the striving for the spiritual, for ascension, for the knowledge of higher truths. The lower triangle, representing the feminine principle, symbolized the material world, acceptance, fertility, and connection with the earth. The connection of these two triangles into a single figure, the Star of David, symbolized harmony and balance, the achievement of perfection through the unification of opposites. It was not just a decoration, but a living mantra, a formula of the universe, enclosed in graphic form.»

The crescent moon, traditionally revered as a symbol of Islam, appeared in the book not simply as an indication of the lunar calendar or a connection with the moon goddess of ancient Arab beliefs. It was interpreted as a symbol of knowledge, as a bowl ready to receive the wisdom of the Universe. The curved shape of the crescent moon symbolized receptivity, openness to new knowledge and experience. It was presented as a vessel filled with the light of spiritual truth, as a reflection of divine wisdom in the human consciousness. The crescent moon was not just a sign of faith, but an invitation to constant searching, to tireless self-improvement, and to the pursuit of knowledge of the mysteries of the universe. It was a symbol of the disciple, ready to listen and absorb knowledge, as the earth absorbs life-giving moisture.

The crescent moon, traditionally revered as a symbol of Islam, appeared in the book not simply as an indication of the lunar calendar or a connection with the moon goddess of ancient Arab beliefs. It was interpreted as a symbol of knowledge, as a bowl ready to receive the wisdom of the Universe. The curved shape of the crescent moon symbolized receptivity, openness to new knowledge and experience. It was presented as a vessel filled with the light of spiritual truth, as a reflection of divine wisdom in the human consciousness. The crescent moon was not just a sign of faith, but an invitation to constant searching, to tireless self-improvement, and to the pursuit of knowledge of the mysteries of the universe. It was a symbol of the disciple, ready to listen and absorb knowledge, as the earth absorbs life-giving moisture.

And finally, concerning the symbol seen beneath the Temple Mount, the book stated: «This is the Key to Unity, a seal that binds all Abrahamic lineages. For Abraham, our forefather, was one, and the God whom he served is one. Various are the paths leading to Him, but the goal is one. And this symbol, like a bridge, connects the shores of different faiths, reminding us of brotherhood and a common heritage. He who sees its true meaning will find peace in his soul and understand that there is no enmity between the children of Abraham, but only misunderstanding, which can be overcome with love and wisdom.»

Special attention in the book was paid to the symbol engraved in the depths of the dungeons of the Temple Mount. It was described as the «Key to Unity,» as a graphic expression of the very essence of the Divine plan, as a symbol uniting all Abrahamic religions: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. It pointed to their common roots, to the fact that they all originate from one source – the faith of Abraham, and that, despite differences in rituals and dogmas, they all ultimately lead to the same God, to the single source of the universe.

The book claimed that this symbol was deliberately hidden from human eyes, carefully guarded by secret societies, and kept in the depths of centuries. Its concealment was explained by the fact that its discovery could undermine the foundations of religious authority, destroy carefully constructed hierarchies, and lead to a rethinking of all of human history. If people realized that all religions, in essence, spoke of the same thing, that their differences were only a matter of interpretation and cultural context, then the need for wars and conflicts on religious grounds would disappear. But this was precisely the danger for those who ruled the world, manipulating the religious feelings of people. Disunity is easier to control, and unity carries within it the power to change the world.

Reading these lines, Alexander felt a wave of delight and fear sweeping over him, like a seafarer feels awe before the unknown, discovering new lands that promise riches and dangers. He felt that he was approaching a solution, that he stood on the threshold of a discovery capable of changing the world, just as a spark is capable of igniting dry gunpowder. But he also understood that this discovery could be dangerous, that it could provoke the anger of those who are interested in preserving the existing order, just as the light of day is hateful to those who are used to living in darkness.

But he also understood that the closer he got to the truth, the more dangers lay in wait for him. In this world, where the interests of religions and political forces collide, the truth can cost life, like a sip of water in the desert, for which they are ready to kill. Alexander leafed through the pages, plunging into the world of ancient symbols, like a diver into the depths of the ocean, in search of treasures hidden on the bottom.

He saw images of crosses, crescents, stars, the sun, snakes, the tree of life. All these symbols were found in different cultures and religions, but they had something in common.

The book stated: «The cross is not only a symbol of the crucifixion, but also a symbol of the union of Heaven and Earth, the spiritual and the material, the masculine and the feminine. It is the axis of the world around which the entire Universe revolves, the point of intersection of all paths leading to God.»

And further: «The crescent is not only a sign of the moon, but also a symbol of transformation, transfiguration, rebirth. It is the cradle of new life, a chalice filled with divine nectar, a reflection of the light of truth in the mirror of the soul.»

About the star, the book said: «The star is not only a celestial luminary, but also a symbol of hope, a guiding thread leading the wanderer to his goal. It is a spark of divine fire in the heart of man, a reminder of his heavenly origin.»

And about the sun: «The sun is not only a source of light and heat, but also a symbol of divine reason, enlightenment, knowledge. It is the eye of God, seeing all, giving life and prosperity to all living things.»

And finally, about the snake and the tree of life: «The snake, entwining the tree of life, is a symbol of wisdom, knowledge of good and evil, temptation and transformation. The tree, however, is a symbol of immortality, eternal life, the connection of generations, growth and development.»

And in conclusion: «For symbols are the language of the gods, keys to understanding the universe. He who learns to read them will find wisdom and know the truth.»

David and Amir silently watched him with a strange expression in their eyes. Alexander felt that they knew more than they were saying.

«What do these symbols mean?» Alexander asked, looking up from reading, as if awakened from a deep sleep. His eyes glittered feverishly, reflecting the dim light of the lamp and the gleam of the ancient secrets opening to him. He looked around the room, as if seeking confirmation of his conjectures.

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