The Space Spoon

41. Rylus’ Story

For the story to make any sense, I first must go further back in time, when the Spreahs weren’t the only race on Yacleemb. There were others. They called themselves the Yala. Nowadays, we don’t remember much about them. You should ask the supreme deity if you want to know more about the Yala since he’s the last one standing from that time.

The only thing I can say for certain is that the Yala were a warrior race. They wanted Yacleemb all to themselves, and we were in their way. Back in the days, we used to have warriors as well, but ten of us were no match for one Yala.

One day, a visitor came. He had no qualms with either of us. In exchange for food and shelter, he offered to be a neutral liaison between us and the Yala. The details are lost in time, but the thing is, he ended up not being too neutral after all.

Tejeda uncovered their wicked methods when he went to the Yala's camp, for the guest was Tejeda Hajar. They thought our meat was what made them stronger and better fighters. I'm not sure what the supreme deity saw that day, but I'm sure it wasn't a pleasant sight. We heard stories of how Yala cooked Spreah flesh and how some of our comrades survived until their bitter end.

What I do know is that Tejeda Hajar came back from the Yala’s camp covered in blood, with purple light coming from his eyes and a bloodied hoof of a Spreah in his hand. He had slaughtered every last one of that species, eradicating every male, female, and child.

An elder told me when I was a mere calf that the supreme deity stayed in this cave for days, maybe in the same corner where you are sitting right now. He refused to eat or drink. Some say he didn’t even sleep. Staring at the walls and still holding that hoof, he was dying before my predecessors’ eyes.

The Spreahs begged him to eat, to live. He didn’t move. One of us stood next to him at any time in case he decided to speak or ask for something. But that didn’t happen.

The Spreahs cried for their savior on the day he died on this floor. They did, however, hear his voice before that. "Keep an eye on what I can accomplish, but do not tell me my name or who I am when I awaken." He wished to spend a life as a Spreah.

Many didn’t believe he would come back to life. They wanted to bury him under the crops as fertilizer. That’s how we celebrate the dead, letting them bring life into the earth. But, alas, a purple goo took over Tejeda’s body before that could happen.

His fingers that were still on that Spreah hoof turned in an identical one. They all stayed there and watched him turn into one of our own. He received the name of the one he copied, Lyam.

I'm not sure how he accomplished it, but he had erased his memory. He assumed to be one of us, and we treated him as such. There has never been a more remarkable Spreah than him. Inside his compassionate heart, there was no room for cruelty or deception. He demonstrated what it meant to be kind and to cherish those we love.

The supreme deity lived as a Spreah for more than a hundred years, much longer than our average lifespan. When his body decayed, after a peaceful life, he refused to see the limits of his flesh. Sitting in bed, awaiting his natural death, wasn't something he could do.

The ground shakes and disturbs our lives once in a while. But none have been as strong as the one back then. Most of the caves collapsed, trapping many Spreahs. Trying to help as many of us as he could, Lyam dug a hole through the rubble. Some managed to get to the surface, but he and some others were still inside when a second tremor hit.

It took us many days to get to them. They were all dead at that point. A pool of blood covered the floor. A lone person stood in a corner, his knees clutched. He was a mash-up of all the deceased ones present. They recognized his eyes, mane, and hooves, but they weren't from the same individual.

The Spreahs should have been appalled, but they weren’t. They knew what the supreme deity was capable of and welcomed him again. But this time he refused to stay for long. His memories had come back to him, and he couldn’t find his peace again.

He remained here for a few more days. He showed us how to make fire and helped us organize. With his words, he taught us many things. Of course, they were only words, but he wielded them like a sword. Then he left and never came back. We have been waiting for him since that day. We need him to show us the way as we are lost without him.

We felt we were blessed when that man arrived two seasons ago. Giving us a means to put the visitors to the test alleviated one of our biggest concerns. What if Tejeda Hajar returned to us with no memory and we couldn't recognize him? How can we be sure it's him?

Please tell him we need him here. All our teachings say only he can bring future advancements and make us thrive. We welcome him here among us and place everything we have at his feet. Just let him know that we would do anything.

We also understand if he can’t do it now. But he must know we’ll be here when he needs another lifetime of peace and tranquility. As we have waited for him for countless generations, we can wait for thousands more. We, the Spreahs, are his people, and we shall forever be here waiting for him.