Wern, Fir of Febla: 33 Xiven

Kayin didn’t anticipate death to feel like relief. It still hurt, especially his stomach from where the halberd stabbed him, but the rest? The worry, the guilt, the anger? It was just so easy to let it go and roll off his shoulders. All that existed was this searing, twisting pain of his insides. It would be over soon. Maybe he’d get to see Aunt Aayin soon. And she’d hold him, tell him everything would be okay. The world would smell like potent flowers from her medicines and he’d get answers to questions he was encouraged to ask.

Though at this weightless moment, he didn’t care about the questions he had. He didn’t feel the weight of loss, the stone wall he built up to protect himself from the loneliness of being imprisoned for so long. His heart didn’t actively ache; instead, it was as if he could feel all his sorrow slowly dissolve away.

And there was peace. And silence. And relief. If he just let go of everything, even the pain in his stomach began to lessen. Not by much, but enough so that he didn’t clench his jaw, thrash around.

But the peace was just a moment. The silence in his mind broke.

Why did this happen? The questions raced back, resurfacing the anger, the sorrow. Why did people keep dying? What was the purpose of all this, bringing him to the castle, tearing him away from Aunt Aayin and his friends, just to toss him in a cell, to be too late and too weak to do anything against the attack that ransacked his village?

With each painful question came the memory of everything that took it away. Aunt Aayin. Ruyer. Watching his village die. Dania….

Stomachs were only meant to hurt. From hunger, from anxiety, from being an idiot and running toward a halberd.

This pain twisted and sizzled, sharper as the moments solidified.

Fire welled in his lungs as he struggled to breathe; and he gasped for air harder and harder, even though moving felt like a mistake. He wanted to scream, but his throat denied him the luxury. Something hard and solid pushed him down, forcing him in place, crushing him.

Strangely enough, the pain began to dissolve the more he heaved for air. The harder he tried, the harder his breath came—but it was breath, nonetheless! The pressure on his chest followed a pattern, up and down, a rhythm. Everything tingled like dead leaves pricking him when he ran in the forest—coming to life.

He hadn’t died. And for whatever reason he couldn’t place, he was relieved.

“It’s working,” someone said. The pressure on his chest stopped; breath came a little easier.

“Smart thinking, Tae.” Tidesa. How were they all together again? Did they win?

Instead of asking anything, or even opening his eyes, Kayin let out a low groan. It released some of the pain in his chest, but not anywhere else.

“Alright, enough of that,” grunted Dhekk. Air came too easy, compared to when he last drew it. Less smoke, no ash. Stale, warm air. A harsh, cold floor of stone, pebbles and a thick layer of dust. And near silence. No rumbling, no screaming.

“Kayin, can you hear me?” asked Tidesa somewhere near. Kayin could only purse his lips. Despite his fingers and toes allowing him to twitch, he quickly discovered he didn’t want to. He answered with another short groan.

“That’s good, right?” whispered Tae.

“Kayin, you’ll be okay. Dhekk and Tae got to you just in time. They pulled you out.”

“Can’t you—can’t you make that other potion you said you knew about?” Tae asked on the other side of him. “To make his pain go away, or dull it, or something?” Kayin knew that one. It was a combination of urgantroot, crushed and mixed with the sap of a mushroom-wrapped tree and a good helping of cold moss. Applying that sort of cream around the affected area helped soothe wounds and prevent them from festering. It didn’t make pain go away, but it would have been something. It was a simple base for a lot of the more advanced healing potions, like the one used on his shoulder when he was attacked as a child.

“Nah,” was Dhekk’s answer instead. “Not enough supplies.” The blatant lie made Kayin scowl.

“Yes,” he croaked. “Yes there are.” Of all the flora and fauna around, tree sap and cold moss were the easiest to get. And urgantroot was abundant at this time of year, with a lot of it being dug up by the gerries for food.

“Ah! Progress!” announced Dhekk as if it was his plan all along. “See, you don’t need anything for pain. The health potion’s working, eh?” Technically he was right. Each moment, though painful, he became more and more aware of what was happening. The stone under his fingertips, the way the air tasted old. It was dark in here, now that he opened his eyes. Just a couple candles lit in one corner, and one more by a large, stone door that Dhekk now blocked. The handle, mostly food for rust, was neglected in favor of creating a new way to open the door: the hinges were gone, and now the stone block leaned in its doorway to shut them in this…odd room.

Chairs. Dusty, dirty, chairs made of half-rotten wood and stuffed cushions. A couple pillows. Tables. A bookshelf. Glass jars were stacked in the corner, but Kayin doubted that whatever once was put in those was safe to even look at for too long.

“M-moss,” he started weakly, “a-a-and—” Dhekk interrupted him with a loud, exaggerated sigh.

“Fine! Since you’re cognizant enough to remember how to do it yourself, here.” Kayin didn’t bother turning his head to look at the man. Instead, he watched Tae intercept some sort of soggy piece of cloth with both hands.

“Oh, you did make it?” Tae asked.

“Yeah. Go ahead and put it right in the wound, there.”

“No,” Kayin corrected sharply. “Just the outside.” His old friend, covered in confusion and soot, just stayed there.

“Mean prank,” was Tidesa’s only acknowledgment. “Kayin is right. Apply it to the outside of the wound, and try not to get it inside.” Prank. A prank at a time like this.

Tae blocked the candlelight when he moved closer. All Kayin could do was wait, feel the gentle pats of the cloth around his stomach. It wasn’t too bad, he guessed by the movement of the poultice. Just circling his bellybutton. It could have been worse, but it was just two puncture wounds: the main one, and a smaller one just above it. The certainty was almost as much of a relief as the feeling of the cream Tae pat down.

It wasn’t that much—a cold stone on a seeping wound, but the relief it brought with the gentle improvement from the healing potion made it so much easier to think. A glimmer of light; it would only improve from here.

“What you did, Kayin,” started Tidesa as Tae worked, “was very reckless.”

“Did it help?” The words fell out of his mouth weak and taut.

“No.” The single-syllable answer pressed him further into the ground. The cold numbing cream Tae applied must have just spread to every inch of his body, tingling and dissolving him. Nothing helped.

“W-we lost,” he realized quietly. More than just soot burned his eyes when he closed them.

“Maybe if we coroneted Queen Sepik sooner,” murmured Tae. Kayin ignored his incredibly stupid thought.

“Where are we?” he asked into the stifling silence.

Tae answered, “In an old hideout under the castle. We found it by accident.” That explained the dust and rust. They must have been very deep underground for it to be this quiet down here. No sign of what was going on up above, though the scent of smoke was so fresh.

“Tidesa,” he asked slowly, “please. Why is this happening?” The silence was thicker than the air. Kayin opened his eyes without even attempting to hold back his tears. He found Tidesa in the low light and stared. “W-were they looking for me? Is that why you wouldn’t let me fight?” Of all possible responses, he didn’t anticipate Dhekk laughing.

“Wow, maybe he isn’t such an idiot!” the man choked out. Him saying this made it even more confusing as to why he was laughing in the first place. Tae’s look of disgust perfectly displayed what Kayin was too exhausted to portray.

“Is—is that true?” Tae asked now, twisting to look up to Tidesa. The woman shifted her weight from one foot to another. And before Kayin could ask again, she nodded, finally shocking him into the silence she’d always wished he’d held. He couldn’t even ask why. Maybe it was because he was so used to never having any answers before, that getting a simple one now felt like a dream.

“Kayin,” Tidesa began quietly, “the short answer is that I had a vision of you long ago, when I first saw your future.” Her lips parted and pursed over and over again as she searched for her words. Eventually, she frowned, staring over to Dhekk and said, “And this vision directly threatens s-someone very powerful. This…th-this powerful person learned of this vision, of you, and d-despite the extra protection the Court of Yatora gave you, it was…. It seems—”

“Wait,” Kayin interrupted. He fought the urge to sit up, but at least his voice was harsh enough to get her to look at him. “You saw a vision of me threatening some—what, some noble, and told them, and that’s why you killed Aunt Aayin and forced me into the castle? Why you kept me in jail for a crime I didn’t commit? Why Yatora is—OUCH!” When Kayin’s hand flew to his wound to try and stop Dhekk from poking it with a literal stick, the man had already withdrawn.

“Dhekk….” Tidesa sounded tired.

When Kayin glared at him, he said, “Do you want answers, or do you want to complain? Shut up and listen.” He then gestured with his stick to Tidesa. Kayin scowled, but settled back into staring at the Namuh of the Future.

She took a moment to gather herself before she continued, “When I saw this vision of you, it was—it was a major turning point for us.” Instead of following where Tidesa looked, Kayin watched the way her brows furrowed, her eyes watered. “In this goal to try and free the world from….” She pursed her lips for a moment, lost for words. “I shared too much and—”

Dhekk cleared his throat, drawing attention. “She means to say that the more you tell people, the more danger they’re in.” There was an extra edge to his voice, a harshness.

“Dhekk,” Tidesa said through a sigh.

“What?”

“So,” Kayin started before they could get any more cryptic, “you told someone about a vision you had, so now everyone in that vision is a target?”

Dhekk scoffed. “Nah. I’m still kickin’.” The surprise gave Kayin enough strength to slowly attempt to crawl onto his elbows, to elevate himself bit by bit. The sharp, acidic throbbing dulled to a mere nuisance, now. Though, he couldn’t yet bring himself to look directly at his stomach. Maybe he would wait until the healing potion took effect more before he dared look at the damage.

“The point I’m trying to make,” Tidesa continued, “is that word about my vision got out. And now, in an attempt to prevent that future from happening, you are a target.” A target—because of someone else’s vision. A target because of something that hadn’t happened yet.

“I didn’t ask for this,” muttered Kayin. “I just—I just won’t do whatever they don’t want me to. None of this had to happen.” As Kayin rose to rest on his hands, Tae scooted over to help support him, guiding him to the stone wall so he could lean. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Maybe when he was little, he wanted to be important—to matter. But that was just so the other kids would stop bullying him.

“It isn’t that simple,” said Tidesa. “You don’t hurt anyone in my vision. You…liberate people.” Kayin and Tae locked eyes, as if trying to see if either of them heard her correctly.

“Liberate?” Kayin echoed.

“A lot of people are afraid right now. Have been for a long time. People have been trying to hide from a lot of—of…evil.” Kayin let her words quiet him for a moment. Hiding….

“Hiding—is it from Cigam?” he guessed, staring at the floor. “Is that what Yatora is for?”

“No.”

Dhekk hummed. “What made you come to that conclusion?” Perhaps someone that had it, like him, would take offense to Kayin’s interpretation.

He pursed his lips, let his fingers draw circles in the dust on the floor.

“Yatora is really young, with a lot of hidden information.” He shrugged with one shoulder and only felt the need to wince a little. “We were told Cigam wasn’t real, and it was taken out of any history books we have. But it is real. And dangerous.”

Tae settled against the wall beside Kayin. Even in the dim light, it was easy to tell that a dark welt formed on his jaw. A welt that wasn’t there before Kayin ran into a halberd. Tae looked up to Tidesa.

“D-does that mean that we have it, too?”

“No,” she repeated.

“It’s genetic,” Kayin remembered, as if correcting his friend. “So if Yatora isn’t hiding from Cigam, but it’s hiding Cigam—is it—is it a place people are banished to?”

“Feels like it,” Dhekk muttered.

Tidesa ignored him. “Yatora was created as a sanctuary to hide from…from the Emperor.” Kayin didn’t even feel the need to ask What Emperor. Of course he wouldn’t be given any information about it. He sighed. Tidesa took a few steps to the other side of the room. She turned her sleeve inside-out, began to use it to wipe at her face, dry her eyes.

“Is that why I was brought to Yatora?” Kayin asked quietly. “Was Aunt Aayin hiding me from the Emperor?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know about you until we met.” Her answer was more than a little disappointing. One answer always begged more questions. It never ended.

“What do I do that’s so threatening to this Emperor, if I don’t hurt anyone?” His voice was a little harsher than he intended it. “What justifies something like this?”

“You see him.”

Kayin scoffed. “That’s it?”

“One step at a time, Kayin.” Composed, now, Tidesa returned to the group with streaks of soot cleaned off her skin. “The mere idea that anyone opposes him is met with capital punishment. Yatora…openly denying his existence, well….”

“Is that why Wakino hated us?” Tae asked this time, brows furrowed.

“That’s why Wakino was ordered to keep Yatora small, and eventually destroyed,” Tidesa said with a nod.

Kayin added, “And you didn’t warn anyone.”

“The proper leaders were well aware of what was going on,” she snapped in response. “You were—and are a child.”

“A child they sent an assassin after!” The burst of energy made it feel like Dhekk poked him with a stick again, but his hand hovered over his wound, protecting it. It itched and tingled, sewing itself together and burning away the harmful bacteria. All his movement did was irritate it.

“Kayin,” Tidesa started with a strained voice, “you wanted to know why I took you out of the village. Because the village didn’t have guards or education for you. And when even the guards weren’t enough to protect you, the only alternative was a place with one exit. I have done everything I can to keep you alive.”

“At what cost?” he challenged again. “Would Yatora be fine, would thousands of people still be alive if you just left it all alone?”

“No, Yatora’s sin is ignorance. Yours is liberation.” The softness in her expression from when he first woke up was completely gone, now, replaced with harsh wrinkles in her forehead. “Yatora would be gone regardless of your existence. But by keeping you safe, there is a flicker of hope that there is a better future coming for thousands more people.”

“And why me, then? Why not someone else? Why not someone like Tae, who can fight, who listens to you?” He gestured to his friend, but the young man shrunk away.

“I only read the future I’m able to see, Kayin,” Tidesa repeated through a sigh. “We don’t have time to sit here and argue. We need to get out of here before they find us.”

Dhekk moved without another word. He rose from his crouch, turned to the stone door. “On it. There was a trap door that I saw that might still be uncovered.”

Beside him, Tae pushed away from the wall to stand, and held out an arm for Kayin to grab. He stayed put.

“Where are we going?” Kayin demanded. “If Yatora’s gone, if everyone’s dead, what’s next?”

Tidesa, though still clearly frustrated, approached him and offered another arm.

“Preventing this from happening to the rest of the world.”