Yusuf, now older and with a thick beard, watched the flickering flames with a distant look in his eyes. The village's fishermen, eager for tales of the sea, gathered closer, their anticipation palpable. "Once, I faced Baba Darya, the Father of the Sea," he began, his voice steady yet tinged with the weight of past fears.
Yusuf recalled his younger days, the night he and Ahmed stood guard on their ship. "We heard his laughter first, a sound that chills your very bones," he recounted, his eyes narrowing as if seeing the shadowy figure once more. The men around him shifted uneasily, glancing toward the darkened horizon.
Yusuf described the demon's apparition, the menace in his deep voice as he demanded tribute from those who dared sail his waters. "Ahmed, brave as he was, swung his sword at the beast," he continued, his voice rising. "Baba Darya screamed and vanished, but not without leaving his mark on our souls."
One of the younger fishermen, his eyes wide, asked, "Do you believe he still haunts these waters?" Yusuf nodded solemnly, "Baba Darya is a warning, a guardian of the sea's secrets. We must respect the ocean and its mysteries."
The men exchanged worried glances, their bravado fading. Yusuf, feeling the tension, stood up, "Be vigilant, my friends. Respect the sea, and perhaps the Father of the Sea will spare us his wrath." His words hung in the air, a reminder of the thin line between myth and reality.
Yusuf lingered by the dying fire, his thoughts adrift on the waves. The sea, vast and eternal, whispered secrets only those who dared listen could hear. "May we never need face him again," he murmured to the night, a silent prayer carried away by the wind.