Russian Model Sold to Saudi Occult Cult for $500K – Brought to “Ritual of Immortality”

   They’ll file a missing person report, conduct a perfunctory investigation that leads nowhere, and then close the case. And her parents will receive compensation and condolences, and life will go on as if it never happened.  Alena began to cry again, but not from fear, but from helplessness and despair. Mansur stood up, went to the window, and looked at the sea.

He told her that she was lucky, that her last days would be spent in luxury, that she would be taken care of, that she would not be in pain, that when the time came, it would all be over quickly, in one blow.  that she won’t even have time to get scared.  He left, leaving her with these words.  Alena sat on the bed, hugging her knees with her hands, rocking back and forth.

She thought about her mother, about how happy she was when she found out about the contract, about how proud her father was when she said she was flying to Dubai for an important shoot. She thought about her younger brother, who was 15 and who always admired her career, telling friends that his sister was a model.

They will never know what happened to her, or they will only find out years later when one of the nine men dies and his secret comes out .  But by that time it will be too late.  The days dragged on slowly.  Every morning she was woken up, bathed in the same fragrant water, dressed in white, and fed exquisite food.  No one touched her inappropriately, no one insulted her.

On the contrary, it was treated with care, almost with reverence, as something precious and fragile that needed to be preserved in perfect condition until a certain moment.  She was neither a woman nor a human being.  She was a sacrifice intended for the ritual.  And its value lay only in this. On the third day she was allowed to leave the room.

Under the supervision of one of the guards, she walked through the villa and saw it from the inside.  A large hall with high ceilings, Arabic calligraphy on the walls, carpets and pillows.  A library full of old leather- bound books. A kitchen where several servants were working , all silent, not looking into the eyes. She tried to talk to one of the women, but she turned away, continuing to chop vegetables, as if she had not heard.

The security guard took her to a terrace overlooking the sea.  There, in the shade of the canopy, sat several men from the nine.  They drank tea and spoke in Arabic. When Alena appeared, they fell silent and turned to her.  One of them, a gray-haired old man with deep wrinkles, beckoned her to come closer.

She approached, trying not to show fear.  The old man looked at her carefully, nodded with approval, and said something to Mansur in Arabic.  Mansur translated.  He said that she was beautiful and worthy, that the gods would be pleased.  Alena gathered all her courage and asked why they were doing this, why they believed that killing an innocent person would give them something good.

The old man smiled, showing yellow teeth.  Through Mansur, he replied that the knowledge they possessed came from ancient times, when the world was different.  That sacred texts, forbidden and hidden from the eyes of the uninitiated, describe ways to achieve immortality and power, that seven years ago they performed the first ritual, sacrificing a girl from Ukraine, and since then all nine have felt a surge of strength.

Health improved, illnesses retreated.  that one of the members of the society, who was then dying of cancer, recovered completely, that this is not a belief, but a fact verified by experience. Alena said that it was a coincidence that the man could recover on his own, that no sacrifices affect health, but the old man just laughed and waved his hand, as if arguing with ignoramuses was pointless.

The guard took her back to the room. That evening, as the sun began to set below the horizon, she heard strange sounds from below.  Singing or chanting in a language she did not understand.  Arabic, but not the usual one, but rather some kind of archaic one, with unusual intonations. She went to the window and looked out.

Torches burned on the terrace below, and nine men sat in a circle, all in dark robes, swaying to the words. One of them was holding a large old book and reading aloud.  The others repeated some phrases after him.  The fire from the torches cast long shadows.  And the whole scene looked as if it had been transported back in time to the Middle Ages, to the era of the Inquisition and witch hunts.

This went on for several hours.  Alena sat by the window, unable to tear herself away, enchanted and frightened at the same time. When the reading was finished, the men stood up.  They put out the torches and dispersed. The villa fell silent.  On the fourth day, Mansur came to her with a proposal. He said that if she agreed to cooperate and did not resist on the last day, they would give her a drug that would put her to sleep and she would not feel pain.

But if she resists, screams, tries to run away, then she will be tied up and the ritual will be performed in full consciousness.  The choice is hers. Alena looked him in the eyes and said that she would never agree voluntarily, that even if they killed her, she would resist until her last breath.  That she won’t let them carry out their ceremony in peace, that she will scream, scratch, and ruin their crazy ritual.

Mansur shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, whatever you want, we don’t care, and left.  That night, Alena made a decision: she would not passively wait for death.  Even if there is no chance of salvation , she will try.  He’ll try to escape, he’ll try to contact someone, he’ll try to do something.  She began to study the room, looking for weak spots.

The bars on the window were sturdy, but the fastenings looked old.  Maybe if you apply some force one of the bolts will give way.  She started working on it using a metal spoon that was brought with the food.  scratched, picked, tried to loosen it. The work progressed slowly, the bolts were deeply embedded, but it did not stop. On the fifth day, one of the women who brought food left the door ajar.

Maybe it was by accident, or maybe on purpose, Alena didn’t know.  She waited a few minutes and listened.  It was quiet in the corridor .  She slowly opened the door and looked out.  Nobody.  The heart was pounding wildly.  She went out and walked down the corridor barefoot, trying not to make any sounds.

I reached the stairs and started going down. Voices were heard below.  She froze. The voices were getting closer.  There is nowhere to hide. She pressed herself against the wall, hoping that she wouldn’t be noticed in the gloom of the corridor.  But the guard, who was climbing the stairs, saw her, grabbed her hand, and dragged her back.

She screamed and struggled, but he was much stronger.  He pushed her into the room and slammed the door.  A few minutes later Mansur arrived.  He was angry.  For the first time she saw anger on his face.  He said there would be no more leniency, that she would spend the next two days locked up, under heavy guard, that if she tried anything else, they would tie her up right then and there and keep her tied up until the ritual.

Alena spat in his face. He wiped away his saliva, looked at her coldly and left.  The door was locked from the outside, and now there was a guard standing outside the door at all times.  She heard his breathing, his steps, as he changed his position.  On the sixth day in the morning the women came again, but this time there were three of them, and they worked quickly and silently.

They bathed Alena, rubbed her body with oils with a strong scent of myrrh and sandalwood, and dressed her in a new white dress, long, with wide sleeves, almost like a shroud.  They put on gold jewelry, bracelets, necklaces, earrings, combed their hair until it shined and left it loose. When they finished, Alena looked at herself in the mirror and saw a stranger, pale, ghostly beautiful, decorated like an idol for sacrifice.

In the evening Mansur came to her with a cup.  He said it was a special drink she had to drink, that it would prepare her body and spirit for the ritual. Alena refused.  Mansur did not insist, he simply left the cup on the table and left. Alena poured the contents into a flower pot standing by the window.

The night before the seventh day was the longest.  Alena did not sleep, she sat on the bed, thinking about the life that would end tomorrow.  She was only 23 years old.  She didn’t have time to do anything, didn’t get married, didn’t have children, didn’t reach the top of her career, didn’t see the world.

Her life was just beginning, and now it will end on a cursed island, where nine madmen will kill her in the name of their delusional ideas about immortality. She cried, but not from fear, but from anger, from the injustice of everything that was happening, from the fact that the world is arranged in such a way that the rich and powerful can do whatever they want to people, and no one will stop them.

Because her agent, whom she trusted, sold her for money. Because somewhere far away, in Novosibirsk, her parents live an ordinary life, not knowing that their daughter will spend her last night thousands of kilometers from home in the hands of killers.  At dawn on the seventh day, the women came, checked that everything was in order with her appearance, adjusted her hair and jewelry, gave her some berries to eat and water to drink.

Alena did not resist.  She knew that this day had come and no resistance would help.  She decided that she would meet death with dignity and not let them see her fear.  Around noon, the guards took her downstairs.  All nine men stood in the courtyard of the villa .  All were wearing black robes with hoods covering their faces.

They formed a procession, Alena was placed in the center, and the whole group began to move.  They walked slowly and solemnly along the path leading into the depths of the island to the hill that was visible in the center.  The journey took about 20 minutes.  They climbed up the rocky road, the sun was blazing mercilessly, and Ana felt sweat running down her back.

We finally reached the top of the hill.  There, on a flat area, a stone altar was built, approximately 2 m long and a meter high.  Arabic letters were carved on the stones .  signs, symbols that Alena could not read.  Around the altar there were torches on metal stands. Mansur approached the altar, took out a large old book in a worn leather binding from the folds of his clothes, opened it, and began to read aloud.

The Arabic language flowed slowly and monotonously.  The words sounded like spells.   The remaining eight men stood around the altar, took torches, and lit them. The flames crackled in the wind.  Alena was brought to the altar, laid on the cold stones, and her wrists and ankles were tied with golden chains attached to rings in the stone.

She lay on her back, looking at the sky, where white clouds were slowly floating. Mansur continued reading.  His voice became louder, more insistent.   The other men began to repeat certain phrases after him, creating a choral sound. This went on for a long time, maybe 40 minutes, maybe an hour.  Alena lost track of time. She felt the fear slowly leaving her, replaced by a strange calm.

Perhaps it was shock, a protective reaction of the body, or perhaps she simply accepted the inevitable. When the reading was finished, Mansur closed the book, put it aside, and took out a dagger from under his robe.  Long curved blade made of Damascus steel with patterns on the surface. The hilt was decorated with rubies that sparkled in the torchlight.

He raised the dagger above his head and cast the final spell.  All nine men bowed their heads.  Alena closed her eyes.  The last thought was her mother’s face, smiling at her and telling her that everything would be fine.  The blow was fast and accurate.  Pain pierced his chest, bright and blinding, but it lasted only a second.

Then it got cold and darkness covered everything.  The blood was collected in a golden bowl, which Mansur held under the body.  The process took several minutes.  When the bowl was full, he added crushed gold powder, 500 grams of pure gold ground into fine dust.  Then he threw nine precious stones there: rubies, emeralds, sapphires.

He stirred the contents with a long bone spoon, saying words in Arabic. Each of the nine men approached the bowl in turn.  Mansur brought it to his mouth and they took a sip.  Their faces remained impassive, as if they were drinking ordinary wine at a business dinner. When the last of them had taken a sip, the cup was placed next to the altar.

Alena’s body was untied, her gold jewelry was removed, and she was carried down the hill to a small area where a place for cremation had already been prepared. They built a funeral pyre from sandalwood, which was specially brought to the island for this purpose. The wood cost several thousand dollars, but for the participants in the ritual, money was of no importance.

They placed the body on firewood, doused it with oil, and set it on fire.  The fire flared up quickly, the flames rising high.  Nine men stood around the fire, watching the body turn to ashes.  The process took several hours. When the fire burned out, the ashes were collected in an urn.  The next morning, one of the guards took the urn out to sea on a boat and scattered the contents over the water.

Alena Sokolova’s remains disappeared into the Red Sea, leaving no trace. In Moscow, the agency that sent Alena to Dubai received a request from her mother.  The woman called every day, asking why her daughter wasn’t getting in touch.  Agent Irina responded evasively, saying that the filming was delayed, that the connection on the island was poor, and that Alena would call back when she could.

A week passed, then two.  The mother insisted more and more. Then Irina reported that Alena had disappeared in Dubai, that she was last seen at a hotel, and that the police were searching.  The family contacted the Russian police.  They contacted colleagues in the UAE, launched a formal investigation, and checked the hotel where Alena stayed one night.

The administration confirmed that the girl checked in on October 11 and checked out at 12 noon.  CCTV footage showed her getting into a black SUV.  The car’s license plates were visible, but when they tried to track down the owner, it turned out that the car was registered to a shell company that ceased to exist a week before Alyona’s disappearance.

Photographer Faris Al-Hdi, whose name appeared in the correspondence, was questioned.  It turned out that this was a real person, a well-known specialist, but he had never heard of Alena Sokolova and did not send her any letters. His account was hacked two months before the events, which he reported to the police, but no action was taken.

The burglars were not found.  The trail ended.  We checked the Moscow agency.  Officially, everything was clean.  The contract is signed.  The money has been transferred to the company’s account.  The documents are in order.  Agent Irina denied any involvement in the disappearance.  She claimed that she herself was in shock, that she had carefully checked the customer before sending the model.

The police examined her financial documents. No suspicious transactions.   The $500,000 that the agency allegedly received for the sale of Alena did not pass through any official account.  But three months after her disappearance, Irina bought an apartment in the center of Moscow worth 12 million rubles.

When asked where the money came from, she replied that she had saved up over the years of work and taken out a [music] loan.  The documents confirmed her words.  It was impossible to prove a connection between the property purchase and the model’s disappearance. The case reached a dead end. Alyona’s parents in Novosibirsk were officially informed: their daughter is listed as missing in the UAE.

The search continues, but the chances of finding her are decreasing every day. Alena’s father flew to Dubai and tried to search for his daughter himself.  I visited dozens of police stations, hospitals, contacted private detectives, and spent all my savings.   There was no result.  A year later, in the spring of 2027, Alena’s mother received a bank transfer.

100,000 dollars into her account.  Sender: anonymous offshore company.  The translation was accompanied by a letter in Russian, printed on plain paper without a signature.  Your daughter served a higher purpose.  Take this as compensation. The woman took the letter to the police, but was unable to trace it back to the ruler. The money arrived through several intermediate accounts registered in different jurisdictions.