The companions once again found themselves facing the camel rental owner, who displayed an exaggerated look of surprise.
“Three normal camels this time, please,” declared Mälwe with calm determination.
The owner nodded and pointed to three creatures as docile as they were lazy.
"Aranon, we need to go to the Daan-Jer region. Apparently, a Nuba tribe disappeared there ten years ago," said Mälwe.
Aranon squinted, as if trying to decipher a grimoire written in ancient runes. “Well, there are two Daan-Jers. To the right of the river Sêt, heading towards the sea, there’s a town where you could enjoy peaceful holidays, with fine sand and cocktails with tiny umbrellas. To the left, that leads us to Daan-Jer, a place even maps refuse to draw, with bandits who sip tea with poachers, and waterfalls that are only attractive if you like danger... and cliffs.”
"Right... please, right..." Mana silently pleaded, already sensing disaster on the horizon.
"Perfect! Let’s go left; south is that way!" exclaimed Mälwe with an overflowing enthusiasm that made Mana groan.
And so, our valiant (and slightly resigned) adventurers mounted their steeds, ready to face whatever awaited them…
The majestic and calm river snaked alongside them as they followed its banks, making sure to keep a respectful distance. No one was eager to encounter another distant cousin of the reptile they had met earlier.
Three hours of travel later, marked only by the persistent gaze of vultures circling overhead with the unpleasant hope of an easy meal, they arrived at the Wadi’i waterfalls in the Daan-Jer region.
After tying their camels to a tree, they continued on foot. Mälwe led the group, Mana followed with the enthusiasm of a man walking to the gallows, and Aranon brought up the rear, arms crossed.
"Aranon, which way now?" Mana asked, his voice slightly trembling.
"Aranon doesn’t like these lands," Aranon replied, for the first time sounding slightly uncertain. That was not a good sign.
"Follow the sound of water," Mälwe declared optimistically, pointing towards the distant roar of cascading water.
"Many thieves and bandits hide in these caves. Not to mention the hostile animals waiting for a chance to sink their teeth into something edible," added Aranon.
Mana, always ready to flee at the first sign of danger, nervously scanned the surroundings.
Suddenly, he spotted an inscription on a rock. A blue spiral, which seemed oddly familiar. "This is it, Mälwe! My father passed through here, that’s his mark!" he shouted, a smile lighting up his face.
But as Mana was about to rush headfirst into the unknown (as he often did), he stopped short. His gaze froze on a menacing shadow in the distance.
"By all the gods, it’s a giant serpent!" he whispered, panic rising within him.
Mälwe frowned. "It’s the only path to the waterfall; we don’t have a choice."
"Yes, we always have a choice," Mana muttered. "We could go home, write down our adventures, and live to tell the tale. That’s a choice too."
Mälwe ignored this entirely reasonable suggestion. She turned to Aranon. "You, great warrior, surely a little snake won’t scare you? Come on, two punches and it’ll be down for the count!"
Aranon, whose stoic expression was starting to show a few cracks, hesitated. Then, gathering what courage remained, he moved towards the bend, ready to confront the beast.
Mälwe and Mana, following at a “strategically courageous” distance of ten meters, braced themselves for… well, something, though they weren’t quite sure what.
"Let’s attack on three," Aranon suggested.
They readied themselves, silently counted down… and leapt forward with screams as if their lives depended on it.

They came face to face with… a statue. A massive statue of a serpent, far more terrifying in its realism than in its ability to move.
Silence fell, heavy and awkward, until Mälwe broke it with an embarrassed cough. "Um, let’s keep moving, comrades."
A few minutes of walking later, they reached the waterfall, the path lined with more serpent statues, each more colossal and menacing than the last.
A small passageway opened beneath the waterfall, but the roaring waters made it impossible to proceed. Yet it was clear that a path continued on the other side. Ancient inscriptions carved into the rock caught Mälwe’s attention.
"This is old Gyptian," she murmured as she deciphered the characters. "It says: 'Dance, friends, and enter.'"
"What? That’s ridiculous!" protested Mana.
Mälwe, with the air of a detective in the middle of an investigation, turned to Aranon. "Do you know any traditional dances from your people?"
Aranon, looking confused, replied, "No. We don’t like dancing. We prefer negotiating and fighting."
Mälwe pondered, "Mmmh, it’s probably a riddle! I’ve read something like this before in an adventure story, where they had to dance to enter a dwarven mine…"
"It’s one of my favorite stories," Mana admitted, suddenly feeling nostalgic.
But despite their efforts, nothing seemed to open the passage. Frustrated, Mälwe turned to Mana. "So far, your father has been the key to all our answers. Did he ever mention a waterfall?"
Mana delved into his memories, sifting through the mental jumble of epic tales and childhood recollections. "No, nothing... Well, except for one thing..." he added, blushing with embarrassment.
"Tell us everything!" demanded Mälwe, while Sparko, Aranon, and she fixed him with intense curiosity.
Mana, visibly embarrassed, confessed, "When I was a child, my parents taught me the ‘Waterfall Dance’... If I did it well, I’d get a candy... But it’s, how shall I say... very... humiliating."
"Come on, who cares, it’s just us," insisted Mälwe with a smile.
Mana hesitated, then, resigned, took a deep breath and launched into a dance that seemed designed to humiliate anyone attempting it. He chanted a few old Gyptian words, shaking his hips, twirling his hands, and performing pirouettes. The result was… difficult to describe without feeling sorry for him.
Suddenly, as if by magic, a stone emerged from the mountain to block the water, opening the passage ahead.
When his ritual was finished, Aranon and Sparko tried to hold back their laughter, but the sight of Mana dancing so ridiculously was too much. They burst into laughter, literally rolling on the ground.
Even Mälwe, usually so serious, struggled to contain her laughter. "Very... impressive, Mana," she said between giggles.
Red as a beet, Mana growled, "Shut up! Let’s go!" and marched forward, face set in a scowl.
They entered a massive cavern, a place that radiated an air of sacredness. At the far end of the cave stood a gigantic stone, glowing with an ethereal light.
"The Original Sapphire!" cried Mälwe, tears in her eyes, overcome with emotion.
Mana, meanwhile, noticed human and alligator skeletons. A battle had taken place here! But he also noticed some familiar items and a much more recent journal, bearing a symbol he recognized. "Someone camped here less than a week ago… And when he approached it: "My father’s journal! I knew I’d find something here."
As Mälwe approached the stone and Mana leafed through the journal, Aranon stood speechless, captivated by the splendor of the place. He could feel an incredible power emanating from the sapphire.
Mana read aloud from the journal:
"To whoever finds this journal, know that what I am about to reveal may have enormous consequences and put you in danger just by reading these pages. A threat looms over Chibu. A secret society seeks to disrupt the balance between nations. I can’t say more here, but I suspect the noble Watt Diiz Ney to be one of the major members of this organization. He is responsible for the deaths of many great heroes, either by discrediting them or killing them outright. He seeks to do the same with me.
He offered me a fortune to reveal the location of several secret artifacts, including the Original Sapphire. I refused, which is why I’m on the run. If you are reading this, know that I have probably headed for Vykorë. Diiz Ney might have found a way to harness the power of the Kraken, and I fear the worst.
P.S.: The Original Sapphire grants immense powers. But do not abuse it. Recharge at most one small stone per decade, or else you’ll face a very bad surprise. The last Nuba tribe experienced it... Unless you’re level 1, in which case you’re safe, but it’s unlikely you’ve made it this far in that condition.
P.S. 2: Tell my son that I love him with all my heart."
Mana, moved by the final line, ran to Mälwe and Aranon. He interrupted them just as they were about to recharge their talismans with the Sapphire’s power.
"Don’t recharge more than one stone!" he screamed.
Aranon, his voice trembling with newfound greed, growled, "Aranon wants the Sapphire’s power!"
Mälwe, desperate, shouted, "No! I need it! My father’s and my people’s lives depend on it!" She was suddenly pushed aside by Aranon, who was already filling his talisman with the Sapphire’s energy.
He burst into a warrior’s laugh that echoed throughout the cavern. But before anyone could do anything, a voice rang out from the entrance.
"Well, well, who do we have here? If it isn’t our trio of amateurs! Jackson Jones’ son, a foolish elf, and a wannabe warrior!" The voice belonged to the blacksmith, accompanied by two henchmen armed to the teeth. "Recognize this sword, you ridiculous elf?" he sneered, pointing it at Mälwe.
"We’ve been following you since day one. After humiliating me like that in public, me, Fortinis, I wanted to make you pay, and I must say it’s been worth it. Now, hand over that talisman, you big oaf, and you two, deal with these fools," he ordered his lackeys.
"Did you just call Aranon a big oaf?" Aranon, possessed by mighty rage, dramatically advanced towards the blacksmith. The two opponents were now just meters apart. Aranon swung his sword at the blacksmith, who dodged skillfully before retaliating with a punch so powerful that Aranon fell to the ground, unconscious.
Mana, dumbfounded, stammered, "Huh? But isn’t he supposed to be powerful with that talisman?"
Mälwe, still on the ground but conscious, responded, "The Original Sapphire grants healing and life powers. It makes things grow and heals… but it doesn’t increase strength! What an idiot."
The blacksmith grabbed the necklace, a triumphant smile on his lips. He tucked it into his belt.
Meanwhile, his two henchmen approached Mana and Mälwe, ready for a fight. Mana was in a bad spot, his thoughts swirling.
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