Yusuf remembered his grandfather’s words: “In the time of fitan, the worst fitna is the one that wears the cloak of truth.”
“The prophecies spoke of you,” the leader said. “The Mahdi of the later days.”
On the third day, he found the army. Thousands of men in black turbans, carrying swords that reflected no light. Their leader, a man with one eye and a silver tongue, knelt before Yusuf.
He turned his back on the army and walked toward the empty horizon—alone, unarmed, but with his heart intact.
Yusuf remembered his grandfather’s words: “In the time of fitan, the worst fitna is the one that wears the cloak of truth.”
“The prophecies spoke of you,” the leader said. “The Mahdi of the later days.”
On the third day, he found the army. Thousands of men in black turbans, carrying swords that reflected no light. Their leader, a man with one eye and a silver tongue, knelt before Yusuf.
He turned his back on the army and walked toward the empty horizon—alone, unarmed, but with his heart intact.
