Chapter 37. The Darkest Hour

TEN YEARS AGO, IN JERUSALEM.

The sun drifts shamelessly into layers of thick clouds, surrendering its golden-yellow hue to the darker shade. The clouds, having achieved dominion, begin to rumble, signaling their intention to wail uncontrollably in no distant time. The hot afternoon quickly turns gloomy, and the previously hot air begins to grow cold. I take a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of oak since I am currently under the tree, hoping to find better entertainment from it than what I am currently listening to…

“I hope you are still paying attention, child?” A hoarse, baritone voice pulls me out of my head. The middle-aged man lifts his face momentarily from where he had buried it in a ragged scroll and gifts me a long stare. His beards are dark and full, covering every inch of his jawline and almost concealing his mouth. There are conspicuous strands of white scattered all over it. His hair is short and curly, and the way it