## Chapter 22: *"Echoes of the Spiral"*
> _"To walk the spiral is to forget your name. To hear it echo back is to know you never owned it."_
---
The monastery was silent now — too silent.
After the mirror screamed and shattered into a thousand shards of unnatural glass, Samir had changed.
His eyes were no longer his own.
They were darker, like ink poured into water, swirling with something that wasn't quite thought — just presence.
He smiled again.
A slow, knowing smile.
— I see now, — he repeated.
No one dared ask what he saw.
Rana stood protectively in front of Majid, her fingers twitching near the hilt of the dagger she always carried — though she knew steel wouldn't help against whatever had just touched them.
Fatima, still shaken from the experience, backed away slowly.
— We should destroy it, — she whispered.
— Destroy what? — Layla asked.
— The mirror. Before it does... anything else.
But before anyone could act, the shards of the broken mirror began to move.
Not fall.
_Move._
They floated gently into the air, reassembling themselves — not as they were, but into a new shape.
A face.
Not human.
Not entirely real.
Its mouth opened, and from within came a voice that didn't belong to any being present.
It spoke in layers — many tones at once, some high, some low, some so deep they felt like vibrations in the bones.
> _"You have walked five gates. You have fed the spiral. Now the spiral feeds on you."_
> _"The Sleeper stirs beneath storms older than time."_
> _"And soon, you will remember who called him first."_
Majid staggered back.
— No…
— What's wrong? Rana asked.
— That voice… it's not just speaking to us. It's speaking through me.
Layla turned sharply.
— What do you mean?
Majid looked down at his hands again.
They were trembling — more violently now.
And when he opened his mouth, the voice that came out wasn't his.
> _"I am not here yet… but I am always here."_
> _"Every step forward echoes backward."_
> _"You think you broke free… but you only bent the chain."_
Then he collapsed.
---
### 🔮 Part II: The Book That Forgets Its Pages
Hours later, Majid woke up in another part of the monastery.
Rana sat beside him, holding a small leather-bound book.
She looked exhausted.
— What happened? Majid asked weakly.
— You blacked out, — she said. — And then you started writing.
— Writing?
She handed him the book.
Inside, every page was filled with symbols — some ancient, others incomprehensible. Some pages had drawings of spirals, eyes, doors that led nowhere.
And all of it was written in his handwriting.
Even the parts he couldn't read.
— I tried reading it, — Rana said. — But the text changes when I blink. Sometimes the same sentence says something different the second time I look.
Majid flipped through the pages.
Some of the symbols matched those from the scroll Layla found earlier.
Others were completely new.
One page caught his eye.
It showed a man standing in front of a mirror.
Behind the mirror — a shadow with no face.
Underneath it, a single line in Arabic:
> **"من ينظر إلى المرآة يرى ما لا يريد أن يعرفه"**
> *(Whoever looks into the mirror sees what they do not wish to know.)*
Suddenly, the text shifted.
Now it was in English.
> _"The mirror knows your true name. Do not let it speak it aloud."_
Majid closed the book quickly.
— This isn't mine, — he muttered.
— Then whose is it?
— I don't know.
— But I think it's starting to write itself.
---
### 🧩 Part III: A Visit From the Past (Or Future?)
That night, Majid dreamed again.
But this time, it wasn't the corridor.
It was home.
Not the house he lived in before the journey began.
No — it was the house from his childhood.
The one he hadn't seen in decades.
He walked through the door.
Inside, everything was exactly as he remembered.
The smell of spices.
The sound of his mother's voice humming in the kitchen.
The creak of the wooden floor under his feet.
Then he heard footsteps behind him.
He turned.
There stood his grandfather.
Abdul Karim Al-Harthi.
Exactly as he remembered him.
White beard.
Tall frame.
Eyes full of secrets.
But Majid knew something was wrong.
Because Abdul Karim was dead.
Or was he?
— Grandfather…
— Majid. You've come far.
— I thought you were gone.
— I am. And I am not.
— What does that mean?
Abdul Karim stepped closer.
— You are walking a path older than memory.
— The Watcher was only the beginning.
— The Sleeper is awake now.
— And he chose you because you already carry him inside you.
Majid's heart pounded.
— What do you mean?
Abdul Karim smiled sadly.
— You weren't born a Traveler.
— You were born a vessel.
— And now, the spiral has begun to close.
Before Majid could respond, the dream shattered.
He woke up screaming.
In his hand — a piece of paper.
Handwritten.
By him.
But he didn't remember writing it.
It said:
> _"If you want to survive, stop running forward._
> _Start walking backward."_