Origin: Rooted Within

CHAPTER TEN

That night was not yet over. It was indeed a long night, as the people had said. Perhaps there was one more thing, two or more, that the moon was waiting for before it gave way to the sun to fill the earth.

In Ritorà, the only open workplace remained the night market, and in the north - across Metrá - the only souls not yet in bed at this hour were those of Era and the man with the golden spear.

To the south... There... It was not so different.

The only soul out late that night was that of a Kranian. Not just any other, but Baraka.

Baraka had just gained visibility. He had travelled so far as a shadow. No one, not even the winds of the earth, sensed his presence. Whatever had brought him so far was of great importance, and would not escape his course.

The beginning of his quest led him to Hularis. This journey was one of the most important of all, and without it his mission would be meaningless and his dreams paralyzed.

H U L A R I S

Hularis, a land that lay between a rolling hillside, rested and basked in the moonlight, like all lands to the south.

Baraka had reached the land of Hularis, and at every step he took forward his eyes glowed with contempt. He settled down in a cornfield, intending to fortify himself before taking another step.

"Tré Ta gun, Tré le vaci," he spoke in the strange dialect, the language all Kranìans spoke. Any other language they could hear and speak was only possible through the spirit, something they called Lir'ri: the language of the brothers. They could send messages to each other from spirit to spirit, through thought.

He spoke these words mainly to scan the path with his magic. In this way, he could determine if another magical being was also in that place.

M O N O L O G U E: KRAÌ

“Hestío makata!” [Let it begin like this!]

Vi di stio vi diegene wata ees sa’ak emaak et, in di as vi di ilige rif vin Kraì

[From the dust of those who once mattered, into the ashes of the sacred writing of Kraì].

END OF MONOLOGUE

Baraka’s left hand stroked the corn plant that stood in his way - the last one in the cornfield he had passed through. It was also the only thing standing between him and the Lake of Digonbur.

He stood on all four limbs and crawled as he saw the undulating, wet expanse that led to the lake.

THE NIGHT MARKET

Castar was not done shopping yet. He just felt like he had spent enough at Darìo’s store after paying 50 artà for something he did not even know if he would ever wear.

After leaving Darìo’s store, he felt a pang of regret. He glanced at the pendant and turned to look back at the store. He realized he had just wasted a lot of money on something that would be of no use to him and would not fit in with his collection of bracelets, as it was made to be worn around the neck.

He had not finished. He had come for a bracelet, but had failed to get one. His gaze wandered to the side, and his eyes caught another store - to his left (next to Darìo’s)

As he crossed the threshold of the store, he was compelled to look off his way by the sudden high-pitched sound coming from the stringed instrument a man was playing next to the store, and he was forced to glance at the instrumentalist. As he did so, he bumped into someone.

“Oh, I am so sorry about that,” he said to the lady he had bumped, not taking a moment to look her in the face. He got down on his knees and started to pick up some of the gold beads she had bought, which were on the floor at the time because he had failed to keep his lane. Castar picked hurriedly as the young lady joined him, giving him a hand. While she picked, her eyes were only all over the man in front of her. She held her breath as she enjoyed every second she spent looking at him from a close range.

Castar took a moment to look at whose property he had thrown on the floor.

“Draia, it is you,” Castar said. Her pupils dilated the moment their eyes met. She wished she could control herself from looking into his deep brown eyes, but the harder she tried, the more her eyes sank into them.

He picked up the last bead on the floor and they both stood up. Castar handed her the bead gently, and she took it as carefully as she could.

The movements she made to receive the last bead Castar handed her were controlled by the part of her brain that was not thinking about how it was possible for Castar to remember her name.

Apart from that night, they had met only once, and that was long ago, when they were younger.

It was at the time when Isher was celebrating his twenty-first birthday. All the children present were to pick out the names of the other children from a large basket full of scraps of paper, each containing the name of one child. They were to give a gift to the one whose name was on their slip of paper.

No one spoke...

The reason Castar took a moment to see who he had bumped into was because he recognized the bracelet she wore in her right hand.

It was a thin lace, studded with small black stones from one end to the other.

They had not spoken a word to each other since the day he’d given Draia that bracelet, because Castar had paid no attention to her or any other kid in all of Ritorà to that very day. He was the type who liked to keep to himself and his family since childhood-all the more reason Draia thought he’d forgotten her name.

There was an awkward silence, and, realizing that this silence had to be broken, they both wanted to speak.

Castar was out of words. He might wonder how she could have kept it for so many years, but Draia was not done thinking about how he could remember her name.

“You kept it,” Castar said, just above a whisper after they had somehow resolved the word crisis that was clashing on both sides and making no sense.

She hardly took the bracelet off, and it had become her favorite over the years. She never wanted Castar to know about it, and she never thought he would notice such a thing - considering the person he was. She looked at him, and if she did, it was only fleetingly. Her gaze remained on her feet mostly.

“You remember,” she whispered back. She tried to hide that hand behind her back because she was rather embarrassed, and Castar grasped it with a gentle touch.

“She’s just like she was when I gave her to you,” Castar said. He had a smile on his face. His touch had quickened Draia’s heartbeat. She wished she could tell him everything, she wished he knew why she had kept it for so long.

“How could I not remember?” He said, still holding her hand affectionately.

Castar averted his gaze from the bracelet and fixed it into her eyes. Everything became oblivious to her, she looked in Castar's eyes and she could see nothing else.

“You have not changed at all,” he said to her.

“It’s been so long, how can I not change?” She said, breathlessly.

“You still look as—” he said.

She wondered what he had wanted to say, and she couldn't keep herself from asking.

“pale?” she asked, and Castar remained quiet for moments, staring into her eyes.

“I was going to say...you look as beautiful,” he whispered and Draia froze. She looked into his eyes and wondered if it was all a dream, one she had planned out for herself.

“Draia, my child! Let us go,” they both heard Halbay’s voice from the neighboring store. He still had not come out, only calling for Draia, who he assumed was still in the store next to him.

“Please, wait!” called Castar to her as she passed him.

“I must go; he is impatient,” she answered him.

Castar did not know why he was still standing there without taking a step, staring at her as she took her father's hand and walked him through the gate. After a few moments had passed, he realized he no longer felt like going to the store, so he made his way home. Somehow he was content.

METRÁ (Værada)

Era had followed him. He had not paused a second since he had leaped down from the top of Kin Hill. He had crossed the border between Kin Hill and Maphila: the forest closest to the first quarter of Metrá, called Værada.

Era had not given up yet. She tried as best she could to catch up with him.

“How are you going to find it? The key, whatever it is?” she asked in a loud voice. It was a dense forest, and he was far ahead of her. Anything below could not reach his ears.

“Believe me, I know the key when I see it. I used to feel its magic,” he said.

“You mean you do not remember where it is,” she said.

“There is something it carries with it that impedes my senses,” he told her.

“Then how can we reach it?” she said to him. Her questions seemed to irritate him and he could not help but yell at her.

“We are not accomplishing anything! I never asked you for help,” he said. He gritted his teeth and his voice expressed an extreme aggression that could have shaken even Era.

Era was forced to remain silent, unwilling to turn back no matter what. She preferred to stop asking questions and follow him to wherever it might be, just to satisfy her curiosity.

After a few moments of silence on the long, lonely walk through the forest, he decided to talk to her.

“Its magic was what exhausted the boundary in the first place. The more it uses it, the further it is depleted,” he said to her.

She had no idea what he meant by that. Her eyebrows drew together. She did not want to ask questions. She didn't want him to send her away. She tried to keep her mouth closed, but curiosity kept swirling in her head.

“The key, what do you mean by the key?” she asked.

“The key is of your kind,” he replied and Era’s eyes widened.

She had thought him an object for so long.

“I last saw it in its mother’s womb. That was before I was sent out to capture the Kranians and return them to Nero Spiliá,” he said.

Castar crossed Era's mind. She knew why Castar was the first and only person who came to her mind after listening to him.

“There is a boy I met once. I could not get him out of my mind since you mentioned magic. Maybe it’s because he’s the only person who has magic in all four lands,” Era said, looking into the eyes of the man standing in front of her.

“Tell me about this boy.”

“He healed me once. He is a healer, a gifted healer,” she replied.

“What did he heal you of?” he said to her. Curious.

“Poison, he just put his hand on mine and it was... just gone,” she said - lost in her own thoughts, still wondering how Castar could have done it.

“How did you get infected?” he asked in his deep and raspy voice.

“I was poisoned the night I saw Baraka at the top of the hill. Something covered him and blocked my view of him,” she said.

“What was that like?” he asked.

“It was like a black mist,” she said.

“Qur! That’s its name. It is Kraì for darkness. I know what Baraka’s after. We need to find the boy before Baraka does. How can we find him?” He said.

“He lives with his mother in Ritorà, a village to the west,” Era told him, and his eyes widened.

“She survived. How can that be?” he said. He was dumbfounded.

Era did not understand what he meant, but before she could ask, he interrupted her.

“Take me to him, now!” he said.

DIGONBUR

Baraka had reached the shore of the great lake of Digonbur. Unlike what Callagh had expected, Baraka seemed to have other plans. He was not in Ritorà looking for Castar, but in Hularis looking for something else.

“Pisæs mitka oha.”

[It must be here!]

“Dur legàn nura oha,”

[Let it be here]

He monologued while digging in the mud with his sharp claws to uncover something that was buried there long ago. He exhaled as he scooped out the last pile of mud that was in his way. The red flashes from his eyes, which had glowed in content, met a tiny box coated in silver.

“liaez!”

“Yes!”

“Lotein darkó Varata wesé,”

“Varata was right,”

“Lestà!”

“Open!” He said to the box.

It was magic. It flipped open without him having to put a finger on it.

“Talim!”

Behold! The box was filled to the brim with ashes. No ordinary ash, but one of great importance to the Kranians.

He reached out and took the box.

“Sar’se!”

“It is time!”

He stood up after closing the box and putting it in his pouch. He closed his eyes and exhaled. He recited the Xenia órki while stroking the psychís. He wanted to be a willing host to the soul he had planned to absorb. For that, the spell must be said to show acceptance.

MONOLOGUE

“gití palévis maí mas, gio potó maí mas, giatí tróte maí mas, zes epísis maí mas, giatí eísai énas apó tous dikús mas.”

[For together we once ate, together we fought, together we once walked this land, together we will again breathe the air of this world].

“Takar! Meh dol lubiqa durlon olka! Ef pora akè”

“Takar! I call upon your soul, brother! I need your power,” he said. His voice thundered across the lake, causing a disturbance in the form of ripples on the surface of the water.

Lo...

There was something rising from the water. It was like smoke, but pale yellow in color. That was what a Kranian soul looked like to the living, a soul that was actually bound to the earth.

It followed the air into Baraka’s lungs and he gasped, opening his eyes to reveal the color change from red to yellow (Signifying two souls in one body).

HALBY’S HOME

Draia went into her room and lit the candle to clear the room of darkness. They had returned home from the night market. She dropped her purchases on the bed and lay on her back, right next to the basket of beads. She remembered the moment Castar grabbed her hand, and then the moment he told her she was beautiful. Her heart beat faster as she thought of what could have happened between them if she had agreed to stay with him when her father called. She wondered and thought about what else Castar could have told her. It was the best night of her life so far. She closed her eyes and let thoughts of him slowly send her to sleep.

ALDÉRIS’ HOME

After Isher had left Zyra’s door, it had been so cold in the house. There was complete silence. Zyra had not stopped to think about the fact that Isher was also her son. She was thinking that perhaps she had contributed a little to the brothers’ separation.

She walked up to Isher’s door, and after exhaling, knocked once.

“Come in,” Isher said. It was a bitter reply. He only invited her in because he could not ignore her. She meant everything to him, even if he felt she had wronged him.

The door creaked open as Zyra pushed with a light touch. She did not bother closing the door after seeing Isher packing. She left it ajar. With the bandage around his injured knuckles, he continued to fold his clothes.

Zyra could say nothing for a few moments, searching for an explanation for what she was seeing. Isher was too busy to exchange a word with her.

“Son, tell me those are for laundry,” she said. She was more intelligent than what she claimed to understand of what was happening. She was just in denial.

“Why would I be doing laundry at this hour?” he asked, and Zyra sighed.

He stopped and turned, only to see his mother’s face for the last time.

“Mother, I am leaving,” he said. Zyra hit him in the side of his face and a tear rolled down her cheek.

Castar had returned home. On the way home he could not stop thinking of the incident between Draia and himself. The feeling was strange. He did not know why he had thought about it over a thousand times. He had entered the house. As he walked towards his own room, he slipped out the pendant from his pocket and fondled it. He heard Zyra's voice. He wondered what was the matter. She sounded bitter, and he needed to know why.

He held the pendant tighter as he walked towards Isher’s room. He saw the door was ajar, but he did not want to go into the room because he knew Isher would not like to see him after their misunderstanding.

“Aldéris left and now you want to leave your brother and me too?” Zyra scolded him with tears in her eyes.

“Do not talk to me about that animal! And never make the mistake of calling him my brother again. I am your only son, and you know it!”

“Castar is not my brother!” He shouted at Zyra.

“You and Father have been forcing him on me all this time, and now I can not stand it,” he added.

Castar’s lips parted.

The pendant slipped from his hand and landed on the floor. The sound of it hitting the floor caused Zyra and Isher to turn toward the door. Zyra’s heartbeat sped up when she saw Castar standing at the door. Isher was not himself either, though he did not care as much.

Castar’s eyelids fell shut, as he could not see anything properly. He stood breathless, wishing this was all a dream.

There was absolute silence, everyone was frozen in place.

When he opened his eyes, everything was real. Everything he heard, everything he saw, it was all real. He felt a stabbing pain in his heart, he grabbed his chest and squeezed hard. A tear rolled from his eyes and ran down his cheek.

He did not need anyone to tell him that what Isher had said was true, because he could tell from Zyra’s face. He picked up his pendant and hurried out of the house. Zyra began calling for him, even crying. She called for him to come back to her. Castar was fast enough to run down the terraces and hop on his horse before they tried to stop him.

“Mother, let him go! He will not come back,” Isher shouted to her. She ran after him and Isher followed. They both arrived just as Castar had already ridden away from the mountain. She fell to her knees and screamed!

“I have failed you, Myrr, forgive me!”