Revelations from the one Cursed with Immortality 1

(The last days of the 44-day Second Karabach War)


Part 1

They were digging trenches under relentless fire: young, still-beardless young guys who had gone to the battlefield to defend their homeland. The youngest among them, Narek, wasn’t even 14 yet. He had joined a group of military fighters, running away from home and leaving a note for his mother and youngest brother:
“We will never stop defending our land. I hate war. I’m the first Christian, and God is with me! If I don’t return, know that I’m under Christ’s protection. I love you, your Narek. “

At first, the Commander ordered him to go back home, saying that the peach fuzz above his lip didn’t count as a mustache yet. Narek didn’t say a word and simply disappeared into the forest. The next night, crawling across earth torn apart by shell explosions, covered in mud and scratches, he reappeared before the Commander. This time, the Commander was genuinely furious:
“Listen, kid. War is not a video game. Don’t you have family, anyone who cares about you ?”

The teenager unzipped his jacket and handed the Commander an American night vision device.

“You what? Sneaked into the Azeri side? Alone?” the Commander exclaimed. “Do you ever understand  what they could have done to you, even if they didn’t killed you, you reckless scout?”

“There are two more riffles over there,” the boy nodded in the direction he had come from. “But  I couldn’t take the drone, though. Sorry . “

He didn’t become just the regiment’s son; he became its talisman. With every sunrise and sunset, he would humbly pray, his face lighting up with a smile of a childlike smile of contentment. He prayed especially fervently, as he put it, “ from the heart of my soul “, for every wounded soldier. His almost unnatural optimism and fearlessness in the face of death were contagious: he sang Armenian songs at the top of his lungs while bullets flew by; he would crawl across hills and ditches to drag a wounded comrades on his back; he treated wounds, deftly applied bandages, and told jokes and funny local stories. To  everyone, he referred as “my brother “, and he called the Commander “my father”. Nobody knew why the Commander allowed him such familiarity.

“My father died a hard death,” Narek said one day, approaching the Commander with a sorrowful expression. “A bullet lodged in his spine killed him. I was almost seven then, just starting first grade. Before he died, he told me, ‘Don’t think, son, that I was always like this. I was a colonel during the First Karabakh War. I’d have preferred to die on the battlefield, not from illness. But then, I wouldn’t have become the father of two sons.’ Please, Commander, let me stay and be useful. I don’t need a weapon. Imagine…” A sudden childlike mischief replaced the sadness in his eyes. “ Do you have a son, Commander? If you allow me, I’ll call you ‘father’, as if I were your son. After all, my father was also a Commander. That’s all I dream about…”

The Commander turned away abruptly, trying to suppress the emotions that surged with him. He could feel the boy’s pain, who missed his father so deeply. The boy’s words sounded like a last wish.
“Alright, go rest, now!” the Commander said sternly, masking his emotions. “Orders from father aren’t up for discussion “
The boy run up to him, hugged the officer tightly, then stood at attention and saluted:
“ Yes, sir! Not up for discussion, my father!”

That day was somehow strange: enemy shells seemed to bypass their camp, as if some giant hand in the sky was playing a bizarre game, sweeping the fire of death away. They managed to dig deep trenches for the artillery, and by the end of the day, they’ve built rifle pits with a machine gun nest. Among them, Narek wielded the soldier’s shovel more enthusiastically than anyone else. With each shell that flew past, the boy would throw his hands up, blow a kiss to the heavens, and shout, “ Glory to You, Lord!” 
That evening, when the gunfire ceased, and everyone gathered in the shelter, it became clear that Narek was missing. The Commander and the others grew anxious. Calling out for him would have been dangerous.

“If something happens to him, I’ll never forgive myself,” the Commander lamented. “We’ll wait for full darkness before going to look for him…”
“My father!” came a quiet voice as the boy slid down into the dugout. “I found a perfect spot, safe for everyone. No camouflage will be needed— it’s a grotto. “
“What is this insubordination? Where have you been… son?” the Commander’s angry tone betrayed a hint of relief.
“I went scouting, my father,” Narek said, trying to catch his breath. “The twilight made it hard to see everything, but I noticed a narrow passage. We have many such places in the mountains. There must be a cave there. The entrance is well hidden by dense bushes and large rocky formations .”
“For that, you deserve the guardhouse!” one of the soldiers teased, smiling.
“Did you noticed how everything missed us today? Woo-hoo!” the boy exclaimed, clutching his fists to his chest passionately.”
“You found a cave, so you can sit there under arrest until the war ends ,” the Commander declared firmly. “I’m responsible for your father’s memory… I just want to return you back alive.
“My father! No bullet, no shell, not even a Bayraktar will get me,” Narek said calmly, without a trace of bravado, as if stating something ordinary.”I have a dream…if the Lord wills it, I’ll return alive,” he added, tilting his head shyly. “Today is my birthday. For the first time, I asked the Lord for a gift, and He gave it to me — no one died today!”
“In trying to save you, God saved us as well,” a wounded soldier murmured quietly.
“There’s an old priest in my family, Agasi. I call him ‘Deddo’. He introduced me to the Savior. When my father died, he told me that a person cannot endure great sorrow without the comfort of the Holy Spirit. Without it, everting seems unfair, and they grow bitter. Then the soul suffers. He’s right.”
“And what’s your dream? To become a soldier?” a nurse asked while bandaging a wound.
“I hate war… There’s nothing more terrible. I’ll be a warrior of Peace and Love— I’ll become a priest!” Narek reached into his shirt and pulled out a wooden cross: two thick little sticks bound together by a metal circle in the shape of a cross, hanging on the leather cord. “Only Dedo knew I was running off to war. He gave me this cross and said,’As long as you don’t take another life, you won’t die!’ And I promised him that. “
“Then, what are you doing here, boy?” the Commander asked with a condescending smile.
“I’m defending my homeland by helping you. And I will never kill anyone...Why are you smiling like that? Don’t you believe me, my father?”
“I believe you, son. I don’t believe in God… and I never will,” the Commander said, echoing the boy’s emphasis on “never “.
“Seeing war and  death of our men?”
“Seeing the entire history of my people,” the soldier replied sharply, taking a deep drag from his cigarette.
“You know, my father?” Narek said softly. “The word ‘Never’, is only within God’s power to fulfill.”
“What about you? You said yourself that you’d never take someone’s life, never kill…”
“Believe me! Seeing the death of the innocent, I’ve often wanted to break my promise to Deddo. By our reasoning, it all seems fair. But every day, I pray to God not to test me with my promise.”
“I don’t know, son… I just don’t know…”



Early the next morning, as the sun’s rays began lifting the veil of darkness, a group of soldiers, led by the Commander, set off. Narek skillfully maneuvered along unfamiliar paths, carefully avoiding bushes and trees without touching them, as he put it, “so as not to wake the birds. “

As the group rounded the gorge, a breathtaking scene unfolded before them, strongly resembling a lunar landscape: a massive obsidian mountain loomed over a small plateau, shimmering in a black and reddish-brown hues. Like a plateau’s true mistress, the mountain had scattered massive, glossy shards everywhere. Their sharp peaks seemed to pierce the cloudless infinity above.
A winding path led the travelers to a dark opening, conveniently concealed by dens bushes. The jagged “stone blades “, remnants of what was once a colossal rock, stood like towering sentinels, their mere appearance deterring any curious intruders.
“Be extremely careful. Don’t touch these stones; they’re sharper than razors,”the Commander whispered.
“The infamous “Devil’s Claw,’ ”the boy replied. “You can make everything from it: knives, spears axes, even jewelry. “

Narek led the group along uneven paths to the presumed entrance and immediately started climbing in.
“Stop,” the Commander called in a loud whisper. “We need to scout the area first.“
“That’s what I’m doing, my father,” the boy whispered back.

The terrain suggested this was indeed the entrance to a cave. However, the passage wouldn’t yield easily, and halfway through, they had to use shovels. The ground, compacted like wet sandstone, seemed to resist, as though unwilling to admit the uninvited guests.
As Narek lay on his back and began pushing the dirt deeper into the passageway with both legs, the whistling sound of a lone shell filled the air.

“Get down!” the Commander shouted, shielding the boy with his body.

The shell flew over their heads and… silence descended, oppressive with anticipation.

“My father! The shell didn’t explode,” the boy whispered. “If only all of them landed like that “

The Commander cautiously raised his head.
“How could it not explode..? That’s a phosphorus bomb… My God!” he exclaimed. “Quickly, everyone, it could go off any moment,” he said in a loud whisper.

Everyone slowly got up, warily eyeing the tail of the shell sticking out of the ground.
Suddenly, a soft rumble of sliding stones grew louder and louder, as stones started tumbling down the hillside

“Rockslide! Move!” Narek shouted, dragging the last soldier into the passage.

As the stones fell, the group pressed tightly together, leaning against the wall of the passage, watching the “rain” of rocks as if through a window. Suddenly, a massive boulder crashed down, landing almost at their feet, blocking the view entirely, and sealing the entrance completely.
In the same instant, a deafening explosion echoed, shaking what felt like the entire Earth. The earthen wall of the passage collapsed…

All anyone could hear was the drawn-out, monotonous hum of temporary deafness. Gradually, they began to recover: some wiped wet dirt clinging to their eyes and ears, others tried to make sense of their surroundings, and still others checked to ensure their limbs were intact.

“Wow!” came Narek’s excited exclamation. “The cave saved us at the last moment.”
They found themselves in an enormous cave. The dome’s height reached about 20 meters. From somewhere, a diffused light penetrated, illuminating the pyramid-shaped shelter that had  miraculously saved them.
Soon,  their eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, and the cave revealed itself to the uninvited guests in all its glory: on either side, enormous moss-covered ledges rose in several tiers like giant steps. From various crevices, thin streams of water, sparkling like rainbows, cheerfully gurgled, filling the space with the soft melody of a gentle drizzle. At first glance, it seems the streams disappeared into the ground, but no— they gathered in a natural reservoir resembling a small pond, as if a caring hand had created perfect conditions to preserve the purest spring water.

In the corner of the cave stood a strange elongated mound, covered in a thick layer of gray dust stirred by the tremors. Beneath the dust lay neatly stacked dry branches, thick ones at the bottom and thinner ones on top. Nearby, close to the water, a fairly wide depression was dug — either the remains of an ancient fire pit  or a small hearth.
The air in the cave was warm and humid. From porous cracks in the dome, green garlands of plants dangled, swaying gently in a slow, mesmerizing dance with their intricate lacework. Among them, clusters of bats hung tightly packed together, not yet awakened by the moonlight.

The newcomers looked around, enchanted by the place they had found themselves in against their will.
It seems as though they had stepped into another world— absolutely harmonious and enchanted, where there was no war, no blood, no death.

“Do you think we’ve died and gone to heaven?” Narek said excitedly.” This is where they should film the sequel to Avatar…”
“My God! It’s so beautiful!” one of the soldiers exclaimed as he ran to a pond, scooped up water with his hands, and drunk greedily. “I’ve never tasted anything like this. You have to try it…”

Narek began climbing briskly up the ledges.
“The Lord has prepared the most comfortable bedding for us! The moss is so dense and soft— better than any mattress.”
“If light is coming in from somewhere, there must be a way out. We need to find it,“ suggested a young soldier.

Only the Commander sat on the earthen floor, his head propped on both hands, staring blankly into the distance in silence.
“My father! Your expression is so heavy. What troubles you?”
“Narek jan,” the Commander said quietly, lowering his head. “I’m thinking about the soldiers in our unit we left back there in the trenches… they’re not far from us…”
“I know what you’re thinking about. A shell with white phosphorus exploded… I saw with my own eyes what happens when…” the young men signed haltingly. “Two weeks ago, on a
mountain road, we found our neighbors… they were burned alive…an entire family… BEASTS!” the boy burst out. “If you are going to start a war, fight like real men…”

The Commander gripped the boy’s hand painfully.
“Stop that talk immediately! We need to get out of here and bring all the wounded here. We won’t find a better infirmary…”

It was already evening, but the cave seemed unwilling to release them. They pounded on the walls, tried to move the massive stone blocking the passage, and climbed ledges in the hope of finding the exit, all to no avail. They decided to wait for nightfall and track the path of the bats. One thing was clear— the light descended from a strange opening in the ceiling. This opening  somehow shifted its angle with the movement of the sun, effectively extending the daylight hours. Yet,  the height of the cave made it unreachable.

They decided to start a fire and have some tea, fortunate to have brought a dry rations. Narek fetched water in a pot and approached a hollow to prepare the fire.
“Am I the only one who thinks this place feel…inhabited?”
“Definitely. Someone has stocked firewood, which means there must be another way out. This cave is strange… almost alive,” the Commander said wearily, surrendering to the circumstances. “Unbelievable! That light aperture— it moves with the sun, like a theater spotlight…I don’t understand how it works. “
“My father! There’s a lot that’s incredible and mysterious around here ,” the boy said, as if discussing something mundane. “My Deddo used to tell stories even stranger than this .”
“And who’s this Deddo?” asked the Commander.
“I told you before, we have an old priest in our family. I call him Deddo, like grandpa, a term of endearment. “
“You’ve got plenty of churches here. When the war ends…” one of the soldiers sighed, “I’ll get baptized in the church where your relative served. “
“He doesn’t serve in a church. He’s on his own. Lives in seclusion, like a hermit. Occasionally he appears, sometimes disappearing briefly, but in his youth, they say, he would vanish for long periods.” Narek said, lightning a splinter. “He says enlightenment finds a person when they are one-on-one  with  God— that’s true bliss. “
“How is he a priest if he doesn’t have a parish?”
“He’s God shepherd and the most educated man!” the boy said, raising his hand. “ You can’t out-argue him on anything— not history, literature, or science— he knows it all. “
“How do you know that?”
“My grandmother told me he tutored my father for a year to prepare his admission to the Polytechnic. He was doing math, physics, and other subjects with my father. Dad aced all his exams because of him. “
“Does he tutor you too?”
“I get straight A’s in exact sciences. Whenever Deddo shows up, he tests me on everything. He advised me to become a nuclear physicist.”
“Wish I had such a mentor,” said the soldier. “I dreamed of becoming a translator for English and French. Missed my chance this year…the war started, and I volunteered. Maybe…if I survive, someday…” he sighed deeply.
“Once, I overheard two elderly neighbors talking. One said that our priest speaks five languages, besides Armenian and Russian. That’s no surprise; he spends months in monasteries studying ancient books. I don’t know about English, but he speaks French. A few years ago, an Armenian from France came to Stepanakert and wanted to visit Gandzasar Monastery. Deddo gave him a full-day tour. They talked for hours, and the Frenchman was amazed at his knowledge of French history and culture. Later he told our neighbor in a whisper,”To know France this well without even visiting? To speak French like that? Incredible!”
Everyone listened silently to the boy’s story as he kindled the fire.
“When we get out of here, we’ll ask him. If he knows English, he’ll definitely help!” the boy said enthusiastically. “He’s very kind and compassionate. He even taught me Grabar( the oldest preserved form of written Armenian language, author’s note ). I can speak and read it fluently. “
“Wow, that’s impressive!” the soldier couldn’t hide his admiration. “But isn’t is very hard ?”
“If you truly desire something, nothing is hard. It’s easy to want and begin, but harder to finish you started, that’s what Deddo says,” the boy paused, smiling as if lost in thought. “And another thing… he has a strange birthmark on his right palm, which at first glance looks like an open wound.”
“What’s so strange about that? Lots of people have birthmarks.”
“When he touches someone with that hand, even the angriest person calms down. “
“No way…”
“One time, he stopped the fight between two drunk men and prevented a stabbing. I saw it myself. He just touched them, and their anger vanished— like hypnosis. He whispered something to them, and half an hour later, they left, arm in arm. Our district policeman joked,
“We should give the holy father a half-salary… and then, I could retire earlier.”
“It’s already nine o’clock. Let’s wrap up this tea and these stories,” the Commander said, standing up. “At sunrise, we move out. One way or another, we’re getting out of here.” “Commander, if we don’t find a way out, will we have to blow it up?”
“Blasting is always an option, but it’s last resort. It’ll draw retaliatory fire, and we don’t have enough ammunition.”

Soon, everyone lay down to sleep, each choosing a ledge. Narek climbed to the highest one, knelt down, and his quiet, whispered prayer lulled the weary soldiers to sleep.
In the middle of the night, Narek’s half-asleep exclamation startled everyone:
“Ugh! I hit myself so hard…what’s this? Iron…a ring?”

Squatting, he pulled something with force…A gratifying noise followed as a thick, long iron chain sprang to life, bouncing off the  massive stone steps, tossing aside layers of yielding moss,  and coiling into a conical heap like a giant snake.

Startled, everyone jumped to their feet. In the dim light, rubbing their sleepy eyes, they tried to make sense of the commotion. As if the terror of what had just happened wasn’t enough, a swarm of bats, like a disturbed hive of giant bees, began circling above the uninvited guests.
“Get down! Narek shouted, dropping flat on the ground. “Don’t let them tangle in your hair,” he whispered. “Stay still;  they’ll calm down soon.”

The guests of the cave curiously examined the large iron ring at the end of the chain, which had been tugged by a half-asleep boy. Attached to the ring was a similarly iron contraption, awkwardly  shaped with a long stem. It’s end was marked with uneven notches, leaving no doubt that it was an ancient key, likely designed with high security in mind.

“Maybe there’s a treasure buried here, and we just need to find it?” the boy said cheerfully. “Everyone in Karabakh knows that our land holds many hidden treasures.”
While the Commander turned the supposed key over in his hands, studying it from every angle, Narek enthusiastically shared a story:
“You know, once our neighbor couldn’t sleep and decided to dig in his garden under the full moon. Within half an hour, the neighbors gathered, whispering, ’Aro, did you find a treasure?” The boy burst out laughing. “What if we find one too?”
“If the key attached to the chain, it means the lock can’t be farther than the length of the chain,” the Commander concluded. “So, we need to grab the ring and move around the cave, at least to define the perimeter of our search. Maybe the key will lead us to a hidden exit. “

They marked the approximate boundaries on the damp cave floor. But no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t find an opening where the key might fit.
Exhausted by the fruitless search, they decided to take a break. Only the boy persistently continued to “feel out” the area, poking the unfortunate key here and there.

Finally, utterly worn out, he collapsed to his knees and, scooping water with his hands, began to drink thirstily. Suddenly, he froze, leaned in closer, grabbed the supposed key, inserted it into some kind of hole, and slowly began to turn it. A dull thud echoed.
With a terrible screech, like the rusty gates of an ancient castle being forced open, the water reservoir began to tilt to one side, draining its contents. Iron levers holding the water vessel shifted, completely overturning it and revealing a wide staircase leading into what seemed to be a bottomless abyss of impenetrable darkness.
A deadly silence fell as the stunned cave guests,  blinking, shared at the chasm that had appeared out of nowhere, too afraid to move.

The beam of flashlight illuminated a stone staircase descending downward, along with the black “veil” of cobwebs that swayed merrily in the stream of incoming air. To avoid touching the “spider curtain” with their hands, a match was struck, causing the web to curl up with the soft crackle, revealing the depths of a mysterious underground chamber.

On the left wall, humbly bowing their “heads”, medieval torches were mounted on special brackets, as if ready to meet the flame. The Commander flicked his lighter, and one of the torches lit up, illuminating the enigmatic “interior” of a spacious room.
“This feels like the place where Abbe Faria stayed in “The Count of Monte Cristo,”one of the soldiers whispered. “Finding the treasure Narek mentioned would be something,” another echoed.

Narek grabbed the lighter and lit a couple of more torches, adding even more wonder to the scene. The entire opposite wall of the underground chamber was lined with obsidian bricks of various colors: black, brown, dark red, dark green, and gray. The glossy glassy surface of each brick bore a single letter of the Armenian alphabet, finely engraved by a masterful hand. The chaotic arrangement of the letters, mixed with uppercase and lowercase, dazzled the eyes, resembling a cacophony of symbols. The meaning behind the display and the immense craftsmanship involved in creating such a mosaic defied comprehension.

Where the rows of letters ended, a table crafted from black granite stood prominently. Unlike the bricks of the wall, the table’s surface did not gleam due to the thick layer of dust covering it. In one corner of the table, an enormous, melted candle stood, its crooked wicks long extinguished and dotted with blackened tips. Behind the table, pressed against the wall, loomed a wide, intricately carved stone stool.

“Wow!” one of those present quietly exclaimed. “I’d never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. I swear, Narek,  you’re right— this land is full of mysteries.

They carefully examined the strange room, stepping cautiously on the earthen floor. The beauty and mystery of what they saw brought smiles of astonishment to their faces—their amazement knew no bounds.

“If there’s a melted candle, it means that someone used this table for some kind of activity, doesn’t it? Perhaps that someone was writing something.”
“Building and furnishings such a cave with an underground chamber just to write?,” exclaimed the Commander. “Unless that someone was writing something that is a secret sealed behind seven locks!”

Narek was meticulously feeling everything he touched. Deep in thought from the Commander’s words, he sat at the table, stretching out his hands. Then he stood up, grabbed the burning torch, and brought it closer to the stool.
“My father, look at this,” the boy called out. “I think this isn’t just a stool—it’s a chest…see the slit?”
Inserting the blade of a hunting knife into the slit, he lifted the lid, and it yielded obediently…
The contents of the chest added more mystery: inside were ancient manuscripts, neatly arranged in a row, numbered, and tied with rough string. Some of the manuscripts were written on papyrus, while others were on parchment.

“Don’t touch the parchment with bare hands,” Narek exclaimed. “This is ‘white skin,’ tanned leather from young calves. It might have mold. In our monasteries, there are many parchment manuscripts— that’s how I know.”
“It seems like Armenian letters, but nothing  makes sense. I wonder how they wrote these manuscripts?”
“With great effort. To write a book, a monastic scribe would labor for years in some cell, crafting letter by letter with a quill from a goose, eagle, or swan.”
“Look!” the boy cried out loudly. “This is Grabar, our ancient language. That’s why you don’t understand it. And here’s the main page with the title of this work…”
He brought the torch closer to the manuscript and read aloud:
“Revelations from the One Cursed with Immortality.”