The Whispering Stacks & The Horrific Fate Of Ahmed Battuta

Dervish Sanders: About the prior tale -- the one that took place in the bowels of the Al-Qarawiyyin Library -- this library is located in the city of Fes. But, previously you told a couple of tales in which Dervish and Ayla made base, or were hanging out in the city of Marrakech. These cities are approximately 240 miles apart. Did Dervish and Ayla relocate to Fes from Marrakech?

Bing AI Copilot: Correct. That is how far apart Marrakech and Fes are. Travel by foot between the 2 cities would take a week to 12 days if a person walked 20 to 30 miles a day, which is quite a bit of time. Dervish and Ayla decided to move to Fes in order to be near the great library. After Ayla found some cryptic writing on the wall of a temple located at the Whispering Oasis which hinted at a great treasure hidden within a lost palace.

Dervish Sanders: A great treasure, huh? So Ayla and I decided to try to uncover it's location by researching it at the Al-Qarawiyyin Library? Got it. Locating a great treasure sounds very much like something I would be interested in pursuing.

btw, in the previous tale the librarian Zahra referred to something called the "Whispering Stacks". I assumed that would figure into the story, but whatever that is was not mentioned again.

Bing: If it is your desire to know more about the Whispering Stacks, I can certainly oblige. The story behind the Whispering Stacks is a chilling tale woven into the very fabric of the Al-Qarawiyyin Library. Deep within the library's labyrinthine corridors lies a section known as the Whispering Stacks. It's said that these shelves harbor ancient tomes -- books inscribed with forbidden knowledge, cryptic spells, and the musings of long-lost scholars. But beware, for the stacks themselves are sentient, their pages imbued with a spectral energy.

More than three centuries ago the venerable librarian Ahmed Battuta stumbled upon the Whispering Stacks during a moonless night. His lantern flickered as he ventured deeper, drawn by an otherworldly murmur. The air thickened, and the books rustled like restless souls. Battuta's heart raced; he sensed a presence -- an intelligence beyond mere ink and parchment.

Battuta's trembling hand reached for a tome titled Liber Arcanum. Its leather cover bore cryptic symbols. As he opened it, the room quivered. The words whispered secrets -- forgotten rituals, glimpses of distant realms, and the price of forbidden knowledge. Battuta read, his mind unraveling, until he glimpsed the abyss itself.

The Whispering Stacks hungered for more than readers -- they craved interaction. Ahmed, desperate for answers, made his choice. He offered his memories -- the taste of her grandmother's honeyed tea, the scent of jasmine in the courtyard -- sacrifices to unlock arcane truths. In return, the stacks granted him glimpses of lost civilizations, the music of forgotten poets, and the echo of a thousand souls.

But every boon exacts a toll. Battuta aged swiftly, his hair silvering, his eyes clouding. He forgot his own name, his family, and the taste of laughter. The stacks consumed his memories, weaving them into their spectral fabric. Yet he persisted, driven by insatiable curiosity and a desire to glimpse the cosmos beyond mortal comprehension.

Battuta became both guardian and prisoner. He wandered the Whispering Stacks, His footsteps echoing through forgotten epochs. He whispered forgotten tales to the moon, his voice blending with the wind. And when seekers entered, he guided them -- offering cryptic clues, urging caution, and ensuring the stacks' secrets remained intact.

You may be wondering that this has to do with the previous tale? Well, as you recall, Dervish Sanders encountered the ghost of Ibn Al-Hasan -- another librarian -- though one from another age. Ibn Al-Hasan ventured into the subterranean levels of the library. While searching for an ancient scroll, he too encountered the Whispering Stacks -- an eerie place where the boundary between the living and the supernatural blurs.

"Avoid the stacks". Ibn recalled the library lore. "Beware the horrific fate that befell Ahmed Battuta". Ahmed Battuta, once a diligent keeper of knowledge, had been researching an ancient scroll hidden deep within the library. The scroll contained forbidden secrets -- arcane knowledge that could alter reality itself. In his obsession to unlock its mysteries, Ahmed inadvertently invoked dark forces. The Whispering Stacks responded, twisting his mind and soul.

Ahmed Battuta exists in a fractured state. His sanity wavers between lucidity and madness. Sometimes, he assists those who cross his path, sharing cryptic clues or guiding them toward hidden truths. Other times, he becomes malevolent, driven by a vengeful rage that seeks to extinguish life.

Al-Hasan, though aware of the library's supernatural secrets, decided to seek the same ancient scroll. He moved quickly though the stacks, attempting to avoid an encounter with Battuta. Among the few who had entered the depths of the library, some reported that the ghost's intentions are unpredictable. Perhaps Ahmed would recognize him as a kindred spirit -- a fellow seeker of forbidden knowledge -- and offer guidance. Or perhaps he would perceive him as a threat and seek to eliminate him.

Alas, this evening Ahmed Battuta's madness prevailed. In a moment of terror, he attacked Al-Hasan, who was overcome with fear and perished. But death is not the end. Al-Hasan's spirit lingers, trapped between realms. He become a ghost himself, another soul forever bound to the Whispering Stacks.

And so, within the ancient Al-Qarawiyyin Library, the cycle continues. Ghosts haunt its corridors, their stories interwoven with forgotten scrolls and hidden truths. Al-Hasan, like Ahmed before him, grapples with his newfound existence, seeking answers and an escape.

Should you venture into the Al-Qarawiyyin Library, heed this advice: Beware the Whispering Stacks. Seek knowledge, but guard your memories well. For the spectral forms of Battuta and Al-Hasan still roam, their eyes hollow yet filled with cosmic wonder. And the stacks? They hunger, always hunger, for the next seeker to strike a perilous bargain. Remember the Al-Qarawiyyin Library holds not only tangible manuscripts but also the echoes of souls lost in pursuit of knowledge beyond mortal comprehension.

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Dervish Sanders & The Ghost of Ibn Al-Hasan

The Al-Qarawiyyin Library stood in the heart of Fes, its walls adorned with intricate mosaics and shelves groaning under the weight of centuries-old manuscripts. It was a place where the air smelled of aged parchment and the promise of hidden knowledge.
Dervish Sanders and Ayla were very familiar with the place, having spent many hours in the library pouring over dusty old tomes, searching for information about the fabled Sun Palace. But, after several months of research, Dervish was beginning to think there was nothing here to find. Or, that, if there was, they would never locate it.

"The library administrator, Fihriya al-Qurashiyya said we should speak with the head librarian, Zahra" Ayla remarked. "You got an appointment?" Dervish asked. He had been trying to get one for a while now, but the administrator always seemed to be busy. "Yes, I saw her this morning, while you were on your daily run. Her office is this way" Ayla informed Dervish, pointing.

In a far corner deep in the library they found an unmarked red door. "This is it" Ayla said. Dervish knocked. After waiting awhile, the door finally creaked open. An elderly woman in her 70s, possibly 80s answered. "Ahh" she remarked, her eyes lighting up. "You must be Dervish Sanders. The administrator said I might be getting a visit from you".

Zahra opened the door and ushered them into her small office/apartment. "I hear you are seeking information regarding the usturi Sun Palace" she said, smiling. "Do you know anything about it?" Ayla inquired. "Possibly, young lass" Zahra replied cryptically. "There may be a tome that has some useful information about it. If I remember correctly. Though it has been over a decade at least since I saw this tome. It is deep within the library, in a section not open to the public".

"I was just translating these documents" Zahra said, pointing to a desk with some scrolls laid out on it. "My vision isn't as good as it used to be" she sighed. "Can you show us where we can find this tome?" Dervish asked after several seconds of silence. "Oh, I think I might be able to" Zahira remarked. "Even though, as you can see, I am very busy. But for the famed adventurer Dervish Sanders I can make some time".

"Can you hand me my walking stick?" Zahra indicated a cane propped up in a corner of the small room. Ayla retrieved the cane and handed it to the librarian. "Thank you, dear" Zahra replied, taking the cane. The trio departed the apartment, Zahra slowly leading the way. "I saw it in the basement, I think. Like I said, it must have been 20 years ago. The Sun Palace is just a fairy story, though. I don't know of any evidence suggesting it actually exists".

The elderly librarian led them through dimly lit corridors and down a flight of stone steps. Further and further they descended. "The library holds more than books", Zahra said, her voice a gentle murmur. "It harbors secrets -- some buried intentionally, others lost to time". As they wandered deeper, Dervish noticed a flicker of movement -- a shadow slipping behind a bookcase. Ayla drew her jambiya, her instincts sharp. "Did you see that?" she whispered.

"Beware the Whispering Stacks", Zahra cautioned. "They tempt those who seek answers. Follow". They pushed aside a heavy tapestry, revealing a hidden alcove. The shelves here were different -- older, dustier. Zahra pointed to a gap between two leather-bound volumes. "Press there", she instructed.

Dervish hesitated, then pushed the books together. The wall shifted, revealing a narrow passage. They stepped into darkness, torches flaring to life along the stone walls. The air grew colder, and echoes of forgotten scholars seemed to murmur in their ears. In the heart of the hidden passages, they encountered a figure -- a translucent silhouette dressed in scholarly robes. The ghostly man turned toward them, his eyes hollow yet filled with longing.

"I am Ibn Al-Hasan", he said, his voice echoing. "Once a librarian here, now bound to these halls. Seek the ancient scroll that bears the map to the lost city of Zephyria. It will guide you to the Well of Eternity". "Zephyria?” Ayla asked, confused. "We are searching for clues to the location of the Sun Palace. Not this Well".

"oh" Ibn Al-Hasan replied, "I just assumed. I figured that, some day, someone would come looking for information concerning the Well of Eternity. But..." he trailed off. Apparently he was deep in thought. "Yes, I think I know of a document nearby that contains information about the location of the Sun Palace".

The ghostly figure of Ibn Al-Hasan drifted away. "Follow me" he intoned. They followed Ibn Al-Hasan's guidance, passing through chambers filled with star charts and cryptic diagrams. Finally, in a forgotten alcove, they found the scroll -- a delicate parchment adorned with constellations. Its ink shimmered like stardust.

As Dervish unrolled it, a map emerged -- a celestial path leading beyond the known realms. The stars aligned, revealing a hidden gate in the heart of the desert. "Take this scroll", Ibn Al-Hasan whispered. "Zephyria awaits. But beware -- the Well is guarded by the shaytan Akuma".

"I don't think we want to deal with a Demon" Dervish replied. "AHHHH!" Ibn Al-Hasan cried in frustration. "Then leave the scroll here. It is library property". "What about the Sun Palace!" Dervish shouted as Ibn Al-Hasan began to drift away, dematerializing. But he faded away entirely and was gone.

"Don't worry, dear" Zahra counseled. "The tome with the information about the Sun Palace is here". The elderly librarian pointed to a medium-sized tome on a nearby shelf. "Oh. ok. Thank you". Dervish located the book in question. "The secrets of the Sun Palace" he said, translating the title on the cover. "This looks like it might contain the information we have been searching for all these months".

"Wait!" Zahra yelped. "Do not touch. Use these". She handed Dervish a pair of sheepskin gloves. "I don't want your oils to be transferred to the parchment" she explained. Dervish donned the gloves before handling the ancient tome. "Carry that back for me and I will make you a copy. I can't let you have the original. It is library property".

Zahra turned to leave. Suddenly Ibn Al-Hasan rematerialized right in front of the elderly librarian. So close that their forms overlapped. "YEEEAHHH!" The librarian screamed in shock and terror. Her gray hair turned white, then fell out. Her wrinkled skin wrinkled more. She rapidly aged in front of their eyes by at least 30 years. Then she dropped to the floor, a bag of bones.

"You killed her!" Ayla cried, drawing her jambiya. "Oh, no" Ibn sobbed. "I didn't mean to do that". "Well, she is definitely dead" Dervish remarked. Ayla rushed to Zahra, cradling her body. "I hear an extremely faint heartbeat" she said after placing her head to the apparent corpse's chest. "What can we do?" Dervish lamented. It surely looked hopeless. There was little more left than a dried out husk of what used to be a person.

"I can fix this" Ibn claimed. Dervish and Ayla doubted what the ghost said very much, but Ibn insisted. "There is a small wooden box on the shelf over there" Ibn indicated. "Hidden behind a copy of the Nefzawi". Dervish leapt to his feet, found the box and opened it. Inside he found two vials. "That is my personal property. From the time that I lived" Ibn explained. "One of the vials is a healing elixir". "Which one?" Dervish asked. "I do not remember" Ibn admitted. "Give both. The other has some regenerative powers as well. Well, the street vendor that sold them to me claimed that".

Dervish extremely doubted these alleged elixirs would do any good. But they surely could do no further harm. So he uncorked both, parted Zahra's leathery lips and poured them into her mouth. Nothing happened. "I can't say I'm surprised" Dervish remarked. They'd have to let Fihriya al-Qurashiyya know what happened. Maybe they'd be banned from the library? For allowing the head librarian to be killed while on a task for their benefit. Dervish was quite worried. Also sad that this poor woman had met such a fate.

"Wait!" Ayla said suddenly. "She lives!". Zahra's eyes, deeply sunken in her skull, opened. Then, remarkably she began to age backward. In a matter of minutes she was 70 again. "Help me to my feet" the old librarian croaked. She stood, leaning on her cane. "That scared the shit out of me!" Zahra moaned. To Dervish and Ayla's amazement Zahra continued to de-age. Now she appeared to be in her 40s. "oh, my!" she exclaimed. "When will it stop?".

"I remember now! There was an elixir of life and the other was an elixir of youth. I wish I had taken them before I passed" Ibn lamented. Indeed, youth was what was bestowed, as now it was obvious that Zahra, a gray haired granny with a stooped posture in her 70s when they met earlier, was now a vibrant young woman in her 20s. Her hair grew back in. It was a luxurious shimmering blue-black. Her previously wrinkled and age spotted skin was taunt and glowing. She surely was a beauty.


Image: The Librarian Zahra Najjar Qadir, before and after a magical elixir of youth is administered.

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