“A City of Stone. A Jungle of Secrets.”

Tala and Zayd had lived in the same neighborhood of Amman their entire lives. It was a cozy hilltop cluster of stone houses with cats in every alley and jasmine blooming on old iron gates. The call to prayer echoed softly from the nearby mosque, and the falafel guy on the corner always slipped them an extra piece when their parents weren’t looking.

But today, everything changed.

Tala's family was moving to a new house across the city—on the other side of what the kids called the Amman jungle.

Of course, it wasn’t really a jungle. But when you were nine and your best friend was leaving, a city full of unfamiliar streets, steep stairs, and secret alleys felt like one. Especially when your parents insisted you couldn’t go say goodbye properly because they were too busy packing.

So Tala and Zayd decided to take matters into their own hands.

“We’ll move through the jungle ourselves,” Tala whispered, stuffing a flashlight, two juice boxes, and her sketchbook into a faded backpack. “Like explorers. You’ll walk me to the new house.”

“But it’s far,” Zayd said, wide-eyed. “All the way past the big circle!”

Tala smirked. “Scared?”

Zayd rolled his eyes. “No. But I’m bringing my compass. And snacks. Definitely snacks.”

By the time the sun had started its slow slide down the sky, the two were ready—Tala with her gear, Zayd with a peanut butter sandwich, binoculars, and a tiny notebook labeled Important Discoveries Only.

They snuck out through the back gate, hopping down the familiar stone stairs and into the maze of old alleyways that led toward the unknown. The buildings leaned close like whispering giants, their balconies tangled with vines, clotheslines swinging like jungle vines.

“We’ll have to cross Wadi Abu Al-Shamat,” Zayd said, pointing dramatically at a ditch filled with wild plants and an abandoned cart. “Legend says it’s full of wild cats.”

Tala grinned and clutched a stick like a sword. “We’re ready.”

They tiptoed across, avoiding the sharp thorns and giggling when a startled cat leapt out with a yowl. Zayd made a tally in his notebook: Wild Cat Encounter #1 – Survived.

Next came the Forest of Horns, otherwise known as the traffic circle near the market. They crawled behind fruit stalls and darted between honking cars, their hearts pounding. The smell of grilled corn and spices filled the air, dizzying and delicious.

At a stall, an old man spotted them. “Where are you two headed?”

“We’re on an expedition,” Tala answered confidently.

“Through the Amman jungle,” Zayd added.

The man chuckled and handed them each a piece of dried fig. “Then you’ll need energy. Safe travels, little lions.”

Fueled by snacks and encouragement, they pressed on.

As twilight deepened, they reached the stairway district—dozens of steps winding between walls covered in graffiti and mosaics. It felt like descending into an ancient ruin.

Zayd gasped. “Look!” He pointed to a mural of a lion with wings.

“A jungle guardian,” Tala whispered. “We must be close.”

But as they climbed higher, a storm of doubts hit them. The sky had gone purple. The jungle had grown quiet. And neither of them recognized the next turn.

“Did we go too far?” Zayd asked, staring at the compass as if it could explain everything.

Tala didn’t answer. She felt it too—the ache in her legs, the twist in her stomach, and the faraway pull of home.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” she mumbled.

“We’re lost.”

They sat on the cold stairs, silent for a while. Then Tala opened her sketchbook and started to draw. Not a map. Not the lion. Just home—her and Zayd sitting on the steps in their neighborhood, smiling, the city stretching around them like a familiar old blanket.

Zayd leaned over. “That looks like us.”

“It is us.”

He was quiet for a beat. “If this is the last time I see you every day, I want to remember this.”

Tala smiled, even as her eyes prickled. “Me too.”

Just then, a soft bark broke the silence. From behind a tree, a scruffy dog with one ear up and one down trotted toward them, tail wagging.

“Is that... a jungle guide?” Zayd joked.

“Only one way to find out.”

The dog padded ahead, then turned and waited. It led them up the next street, across a quiet road, and finally—after what felt like forever—to a familiar curve in the road.

Tala gasped. “That’s it. That’s the new house!”

She ran the last stretch, Zayd right behind her, breathless and relieved.

Her parents were on the porch, confused but too glad to see her to scold much. The dog trotted off like it had completed a mission.

Tala turned to Zayd. “We did it.”

“You made it.”

“We both did.”

They stood in silence, the night breezes weaving between them like soft threads.

Zayd held out his notebook. “One last entry?” he asked.

She nodded.

He scribbled and read aloud:

Part 4: The Kid from the Other Side

The next morning, Zayd showed up at the secret tunnel wearing a hoodie two sizes too big and carrying a worn-out laptop in his backpack.

“I found something,” he said, out of breath. “And I might’ve found someone.”

Tala raised an eyebrow. “Someone? Like, someone who’s already in the jungle?”

Zayd nodded, eyes wide. “There’s this old forum, buried on the school’s library server. Like, ancient internet. I searched one of the symbols from the stone—it’s not just decoration. It’s a real thing.”

Tala leaned in. “What is it?”

“An ancient Jordanian sun spiral. It shows up in ruins from before the Roman era. Like... way before.”

She blinked. “So the stone could be thousands of years old?”

“Or,” Zayd said, “it’s something even weirder. Because guess what? Someone else posted a sketch of that exact same spiral two months ago. Different neighborhood. Same stone.”

Tala stared. “Are you saying there’s more of them?”

“Not just more,” Zayd whispered. “Connected.”

Before she could respond, a rustle came from behind the tunnel gate.

They spun around.

A girl about their age stepped into the light. She had curly hair pulled back in a messy bun, glasses that kept sliding down her nose, and a backpack covered in keychains. She was holding a flashlight in one hand and a slingshot in the other.

“Did you say ‘connected’?” she asked casually.

Zayd backed up a step. “Uh… who are you?”

The girl lowered the slingshot. “My name’s Noura. I live in Jabal Al-Weibdeh. I’ve been tracking the carvings for a year. And I think you just found the central node.”

Tala and Zayd exchanged looks.

Noura walked forward like she belonged there. “The symbols are part of a communication system. Like, not a language exactly—more like instructions. Every time someone touches one, it sends a signal through the others.”

Zayd’s jaw dropped. “Wait. You touched one?”

She held up her hand. A faint line of light traced across her palm, almost like a faded tattoo.

“I think... it changed me,” Noura said, a little too calmly.

Tala’s heart jumped. “What kind of change?”

“I can hear things,” Noura said. “When I sleep. Sometimes when I walk near old places. Whispers. Like the stone wants to wake up.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Okay,” Tala said. “We need to form a team. Like now.”

Zayd opened his notebook again and added a fourth checkbox:

• ☑ Form a team

Then a fifth:

• ☐ Find out what the stone wants

That afternoon, the trio returned to the Whisperstone room. With Noura’s help, they uncovered more carvings in the chamber—some hidden beneath dust, others only visible under her weird glowing-palm thing. When Noura touched them, the room lit up in small, pulsing lines that formed a kind of map—not of streets, but of tunnels and chambers beneath the city.

It looked like a network.

“Maybe it’s not just a hiding place,” Tala said. “Maybe it’s a machine.”

“A buried machine,” Noura agreed. “A forgotten system.”

“Or a message,” Zayd whispered.

They traced one glowing line that led out from the central room, heading south.

“Where does that go?” Tala asked.

Noura pulled out a crumpled city map and compared the path. “Looks like... beneath the old citadel.”

Tala and Zayd stared.

The Amman Citadel was one of the highest, oldest places in the city. Full of Roman ruins, ancient foundations, and tourists.

Zayd muttered, “Let me guess. We’re going there next?”

Noura grinned. “Obviously.”

________________________________________

Later That Night

Tala sat on her rooftop, sketching the tunnel map by candlelight. Down below, the city buzzed softly. Cars honked, someone was grilling corn, and the stars peeked through the haze above.

Her parents still thought she was adjusting to the move.

But she knew better.

She wasn’t just adjusting.

She was unlocking something. Something big.

From her backpack, she pulled out the Whisperstone sketch she had made the first time they found it. She flipped it over and started writing:

The jungle was never just streets and stairs.

It’s memory.

Buried.

Waiting to speak.