Asiir hated the desert; to be specific, he hated the sand. The harsh sun shining onto his bronze skin, he slowly rode through the desert, the wind almost instantly covering up the camel’s footprints, with squinted eyes, futilely trying to keep the tiny black and yellow rocks out of them. Every time he rubbed his eyes, he almost lost sight of the old Casin leading the way. When he wasn’t dreading the next air draft blowing sand in his face, he questioned himself about why he had ever agreed to escort the old man to the outskirts of Ashiir, all because of some rumors. He asked himself what was different about these rumors from the thousands before. If he had learned something in his thirty years, it was that people like to talk and rarely care about speaking the truth.
They had been riding for nearly two weeks and had almost died more than once. When they were fortunate, they reached a city lying on their path before nightfall. They slept in the middle of the desert for the rest of the time, alternating between almost freezing to death at night and being cooked alive during the day.
As Asiir’s Camel walked up the dune, he thought he was hallucinating as he saw an enormous rock formation through the heat distorted air appearing on the horizon. Only when he saw the old Casin pointing at it with his wooden cane did he let out a breath of relief. Shortly after signaling his camel to go faster, Asiir made it go slower again, afraid of exhausting it and having to walk the rest on foot.
…
After setting up their camp in the shadows of the tall red rock formation, Asiir looked at Casin while drinking some of the water they brought with them, sitting on a large rock, earnestly studying the map of the entire continent of Nahir.
“We should be close. It can’t be more than two days,” Casin announced, his gaze not leaving the map.
Casin was an old man, so old it surprised Asiir that he hadn’t fallen off his camel and died of the heat a long time ago. The ancient man’s endurance gave Asiir a smudge of hope, something to hold on to, helping him believe that the last two weeks of suffering weren’t for nothing.
Throughout the years, Casin became something like a mythological creature to the people of Nahir. From the few people still living at the border to the White Stepp’s to the upper-crust of the sea city of Ephyra and down to the mountain folk of the Red Scars of Ishanii. The people shared stories about the man seemingly aimlessly walking across the continent.
When Casin approached Asiir in the Yellow Planes, he instantly recognized him. He, too, had heard the old fanatic worshiping a god long forgotten, practicing a religion few had even heard of. He didn’t know why he agreed to escort him. Maybe it was his curiosity, or perhaps it was because of the boredom he felt, escorting merchants from city to city.
Asiir had many questions initially, but few of them were answered. Casin rarely talked, and when he spoke, it was to himself.
“Hey, old man, when it turns out to be just another lying kid hoping for the commonfolk to give them some gifts and food,” Asiir asked, lying on the floor, gazing at the cloudless blue sky while playing with his old spear.
“… Hmm, then I keep looking,” Casin woke Asirr from his thought, having taken so long to answer he had forgotten he had even asked.
“of course,” Asiir mumbled, slowly falling asleep.
…
Isa’s pale golden eyes looked toward Ephyra, the capital of Ashiir, lying in the distance, through the thin red silk slightly waving in the wind, squinting her eyes, trying to see further past the Red River and through the heat distorted air. As she did so often, she imagined what it’d be like to walk through the city’s enormous black gates. To visit the busy shops famous for their luxurious dresses decorated with the finest jewels found throughout the mines of Ashiir and fabric as soft as clouds. To see the infamous Black Spears, the all-female guard tasked with guarding the royal palace, and maybe even see the Sha’a’ni herself, the queen and believed incarnation of Shani, the god of the people of Ashiir.
Isa often thought about leaving the house, sometimes even daring to imagine what lies beyond Ephyra, beyond Ashiir even. She imagined what it’d be like to walk through the White Stepp’s, looking at the ancient whites statues scattered throughout, the Red Scars of Ishanii, the Golden Isles of Lylerya, and maybe even see the Last Keep, where the legendary sword Al’Lassir is said to have torn open a wound in the land, so colossal it parted the two Continents.
But those were all just daydreams, images she built in her head from the stories Delia had shared with her. She had time to daydream, the thought of drifting to sleep keeping her up at night. She rarely remembered her dreams; most of the time, only fragments remained, but the emotions lingered.
A soft knock on the door awoke her from her beloved daydreams. “Yes?” Isa said, turning toward it.
A young brown-skinned woman entered, her black hair neatly braided together and flowing down her back to her flat stomach, not covered by the thin clothing woven from plants found near rivers throughout Ashiir.
Delia found Isa sitting on the colorful pillows in front of her big bed, in the same place she found her every time she was tasked with bringing her to the main house. Walking up to Isa, Delia took a seat on the soft pillows.
“Did you know that dozens of ships come from and into the Jade Bay every day? Sailing all over the known world,” Dalia explained, her gaze alternating between Ephyra and Isa’s young freckled face.
“No, all I know about the world you told me, how would I?” Isa asked with squinted eyes.
Delia only replied with a light chuckle.
“… When will Arit let me let me leave the house?” Isa asked, only briefly looking at Delia before averting her gaze.
“Soon, you’re very important, Isa, too precious to walk freely through the world. All the things I told you were true. This world is beautiful, with many things to see and experience, but it’s equally as dangerous. It’s more likely one dies before even seeing half its wonders.” Delia answered with a somber voice.
Before Isa could’ve even answered, Delia jumped up. “Oh no, Arit is waiting,” She called out, having forgotten what Arit instructed her to do.
“Come, Isa, come,” Delia said, lifting Isa by her arm while dragging her behind her.
“I can walk on my own,” Isa complained, shaking Delia off.
“Quick, quick,” Delia opened the door, waving Isa through.”
They both walked on a lavish red carpet with golden and blue accents, stretching the entire broad yellow stone hall. Luxuriously decorated with colorful tiles drawing multiple pictures on the walls, partly covered by tall plants standing in ornate vases.
Turning the corner, there they saw a tall, dark-skinned man. His muscular body was wrapped in an elegant purple robe with golden patterns woven into the delicate silk.
“I apologize, your highness I-.”
“Doesn’t matter, come Isa, quick,” Arit urged, his enormous hands gripping the delicate Isa and carrying her directly before the dark wooden door.
“What’s going on, Arit?” Isa asked, trying to escape Arit’s grip.
“This is important, Isa. There are influential people behind that door, and I need you to show them what we practiced, okay,” Arit explained hastily after putting her down.
“… But I, you know I can’t control it,” Isa said sheepishly.
“I’m sorry, but you have to,” Arit replied, quickly opening the door.
Entering the enormous hall, Isa saw people sitting at a grand wooden table, all of them dressed in simple robes, their faces covered by masks, their eyes focused on Isa walking past the wooden pillars reaching the tall ceiling.
Arit gestured for Isa to take a seat at the table while he stood behind her.
“Honored guests, this is the child I’ve spoken to you about. Isa,” Arit explained to the silent people. “I sincerely thank you for taking on the burden of being here today. I know it could not have been an easy decision to make, but I hope you will realize it to have been the right one,” Arit said, his voice unusually nervous.
All the masked people’s eyes turned onto Isa as if on command.
Trying to stop her small body from trembling, Isa closed her eyes, recalling all the years of practice.
After a minute of nothing, the masked people started losing their patience, regretting putting themselves in danger and cursing themselves for having even the tiniest bit of hope that Arit could’ve spoken the truth. Some stood up and started walking away, while others clung to whatever made them come in the first place.
As Arit’s hope faded, something blinded him, making him lift his arms before his face with squinted eyes.
Shocked by the bright glow radiating from the small girl’s golden eyes, the masked people who had already started walking away slumped to the floor, their eyes never leaving the golden light fading as fast as it came, yet the feelings of pure bliss they all felt lingered.
