On top of Mount Qasioun in Syria, the Maqam al-Arba’in (the Shrine of the Forty Saints) rises with its dust-covered green minaret looming above Damascus. Though just 900 meters from the city centre, the climb takes nearly forty minutes. Known in Arabic as Jebal Qasioun, the mountain stands more than 1,100 meters above sea level and is accessible only by ascending over six hundred steep, narrow stone steps. 

The shrine crowns the Rukn al-Din neighbourhood, leading visitors through caves and grottos that date back thousands of years. The most infamous among them is the Cave of Blood. 

From the summit, the city appears transformed. Golden sunlight filters through the clouds, casting soft shadows across Damascus, while the flutter of dove wings and distant voices rise gently between the buildings, a serene contrast to the dark legend tied to the cave below. 

“Humanity’s first crime was committed on Mount Qasioun’s upper slope,” says Syrian historian Haitham Tabbakha. “This is where the son of Adam, Cain, killed his brother Abel with a rock. That deep red rock is still there.” 

Citing the Quranic account of the story, Tabbakha explains how Allah sent a raven to teach Cain how to bury his brother’s body. 

“It seems as if the mountain gasped in horror at the crime and cracked open to form the Cave of Blood,” he says, pointing toward a deep hollow in the rock. Tiny drops of water seep through the cave’s curved ceiling. Tabbakha says that locals believe these are “the tears of the mountain that trembled and wept from the tragedy.” 

“Damascus without makeup”

 
Before the Syrian civil war, both local and foreign tourists regularly visited the mountain. That changed with the regime shutdown from 2011 to 2016. But in recent years, restrictions eased, and visitors, especially domestic tourists, began returning. 

The site saw a renewed surge in international attention after Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan and Syrian leader Ahmed al Sharaa held a seminal meeting at the summit just weeks after the fall of Bashar al-Assad’s regime in December. 

Tabbakha recalls childhood visits to Maqam al-Arba’in with his family. 

“We would go to the shrine, pray, and find peace, tranquillity, and serenity in the mosque,” he says. The mosque, he adds, dates back to the 7th century after Hijra.

Forty semi-legendary saints are believed to be buried within the mountain, with the mosque containing forty prayer niches, each representing one of these figures. The shrine is considered a deeply sacred religious site, especially for adherents of the Sufi tradition. 

“The identities of the saints are unknown to this day,” Tabbakha says, “but they’re said to have sought refuge from persecution on this mountain.” 

“Damascus without makeup,” is how 30-year-old photojournalist Murhaf Kiwan, a Rukn al-Din native, describes the view from Mount Qasioun. He recalls his first “exploratory visit” to the shrine fifteen years ago. 

“My grandparents’ stories made me curious,” he says. “I wanted to discover how those saints lived. But when I returned last year, I was overwhelmed by the spirituality of the place. The paradox was striking.” 

He describes the path to the site: “The walk from the van station to the stairs takes about seven minutes, through an extremely narrow passage. But once you reach the shrine, the sky feels close and the air more refreshing. You feel a strange comfort.” 

Marie Wakim, a 32-year-old English-speaking tour guide, echoes that sense of awe.

Wakim began her career in tourism in 2019 and has included Maqam al-Arba’in on her Damascus itinerary ever since. 

“Foreign tourists are amazed by the symbolism of the place and its dramatic location,” she says. “I always feel reverence when we reach the top and take in Damascus with its details stretched out before our eyes.” 

For Wakim, the shrine is “a place for contemplation and tranquillity,” which combine religion, nature, geography, and history. She adds that most visitors who request this tour are from Muslim-majority countries like Malaysia and Singapore, but non-Muslim tourists often become intrigued once they hear the story of Cain and Abel and the forty saints.

Syria is home to dozens of shrines that serve as spiritual landmarks, many of which were severely damaged during the war. Mount Qasioun, with its panoramic view of the 5,000-year-old city, continues to attract pilgrims and tourists drawn by both its serenity and its mythic significance. Ironically, this site of humanity’s first fratricide has become a place of meditation and prayer. 

The shrine has inspired renowned painters in the West too. 

Modern appeal of the mythic

 
Not everyone comes to this part of the world for reflection. Syria’s social media influencers have increasingly embraced the location, sharing videos and selfies from the mountain, drawing thousands of young followers. 

Among them is journalist and content creator Reem Khalil. Her 2022 video on Mount Qasioun has garnered over six million views and 400,000 likes across platforms, a feat she calls “her greatest achievement.” 

After extensive research, interviews with locals, and a close reading of historical sources, Khalil created a detailed account of the Cave of Blood. 

“The research was as gruelling as making it to the top of the mountain,” she says, “but seeing Damascus from that vantage point made it all worthwhile.” 

“Syrians and non-Syrians alike have always been intrigued by this place. Some doubt that the first crime happened here, but after much scrutiny and research, I confirmed it,” Khalil says. 

There are multiple versions of the story in the Abrahamic religions. Some say Cain killed Abel in the fields during harvest, enraged that God had accepted his brother’s lamb but rejected his own grain offering. Others suggest Cain lured Abel to a mountaintop and pushed him off a cliff.

The location of the act remains contested. One theory locates it in Mesopotamia, modern-day Iraq, or the Middle East, since Adam and Eve were believed to have been expelled from Eden nearby. Most agree that the focus is more on the moral and spiritual significance of the story, than on the exact geography.

For 34-year-old photojournalist and content creator Mohammad Damour, Damascus is a city full of hidden stories. His 2019 evening shot from the top of Mount Qasioun remains one of his most cherished works. 

“Damascus is like no other city,” he says. “It holds secrets and tales yet to be told and this shrine is one of them.”