Ruth, my dearie, and my beloved son.

I taught you enough. I’m sure you are now a capable boy. And I will have to go because your father needs me. And I know I promised you to venture the world together. But my dearie, the world is scary, and mom doesn't want to see you hurt.

Mom will come back one day. Still, if mom doesn’t come back… you can venture the world by yourself.

Lovely Ruth, I saw beauty in your silence, I saw clarity in your dark eyes. Never listen to the other kids, you are the most beautiful child. The most talented manipulator. My powerful son.

And one day, you will be the greatest Lord. But Ruth, for now… You shouldn’t go out. The witch in the forest is strong. She will manipulate you into her grasp. She will lure you with the scent of candy and her playful rats.

The voice within you will tell you to go, will tell you to give your body to them. If the voice is black, you are white, and a grey could never be formed. But never do that. Never try to form a grey with the voice within. Never trust him. Never trust anyone… you are too pure for such a place. You are too pure to know yourself.

But I had to hide you in this place, so no one could find you.

 

_________________

 

I folded the letter and put it back in its envelope, placed it on the bedside table, and smelled the scent of cherries from the burning candles.

Colorful candles on the walls radiated red light. In my village, people made candles with different smells by infusing fruits into their waxes. My mother, Sherly, had always decorated the house with candles of calming scents. And cherries were my favorite.

Our house was small. A simple single floor of one room for our sleep, one kitchen opened to a living room with a single couch and a door to a small yard. Our bedroom was small but big for me alone, and it was bigger than necessary to someone who lived alone.

The room was small and had few items. A large bed I had used alone for the last two years. A bedside table with a cherry-waxed candle. And a box for my clothes, with which I used to shut the back door.

I ignored the cold in the air and wore a half-sleeved leather shirt, dark enough not to be noticed at night. And my patched pair of trousers, flexible and brown with one pocket. I eyed the room with half-opened, dark eyes. But I didn’t pay much attention because I didn’t need to take many things with me. Tonight was just a discovering night. I would just walk and memorize the forest roads with my head. I was ten and able to recall every minute of my life with my mother. I was confident of her confidence in me and believed I didn’t need anything to help me remember except my head. However, I shouldn’t get too carried away and travel. I would be cautious just as much as the last two years of living alone and take things gently.

For the past two years, I followed my mother’s orders and had been a good boy. And still. However, it was written in the letter. Whenever I touched her beautiful words, they were recited in my head, with her beautiful and assuring voice. Because even though she had taught me many things, she didn’t teach me how to read or write.

Still, if mom doesn’t come back, you can venture the world by yourself.

I recalled her words as I stood between the kitchen and the living room, my head on the door but gently looking to the side.

A wooden tray was on the kitchen table with many fruits on top. My neighbors were a good family; they checked on me every now and then, bringing a tray of bananas, oranges, and berries whenever they visited. Zeniva, the mom, had been a friend of Zeniva along with her daughter, Neive, a few times. However, I couldn’t participate in their discussions, I was a silent boy, but not by choice.

I stared at the tray of fruits for a few seconds, still untouched for the past three days.

My mother had taught me that I shouldn’t feel burdened with hunger, love, friendships or feelings. Feelings like those were enough to burden my focus and deter my imagination. She had taught me how to practice silence, the art of isolation, and the gates to composure and inner peace. A manipulator in harmony was a great manipulator, after all.

Since birth, I have been a silent kid.

My mother had trouble hearing my voice for the first time. She had told me that my dark eyes and silence had deterred the kids when I first left the house. But she had seen something different. She had seen clarity in the dark eyes that scared the other kids. She had seen peace in my waving black hair, reminding her of a moving ocean. And I believed in my mother. But tonight, I had to start looking for her.

A life without my mother wasn’t as quiet as she would have hoped. I spent every night thinking of her and her well-being. I remembered her with many things, like the scent of candles she used to prepare for me, our bed, the remains of her scent in her old clothes, and the letter she had left for me.

I was lonely.

The nights were long and quieter than what I enjoyed. But what I needed most was to ensure My mother's safety. She had told me that there was a witch in the forest. She had told me that the world was a scary place. And now, I knew that I would be able to protect my mother. And more importantly, achieve our ambition of venturing the world together.

I stood before our door, silent, with half-opened eyes.

My mother had only let me go out once. And then I returned with sad eyes because the kids laughed at me, and she never let me go out again.

I opened the door.

The yard was cool and quiet. The bats flew above the houses, moving from one tree to another. I stared at the dark sky. I chose this night to go out because of the moon and because everybody was asleep. Nobody would prevent me, and the moon's light made me see the way.

Before heading into the village, I looked at my neighbor. They were the only people who were kind enough to help me out when my mother was not around. They told me my mother had asked them to take care of me. Nonetheless, I wished I could talk to show my gratitude in words.

I walked through the village. Thialis, our village, was small, and I hadn’t wandered through it in a long time. But my mother had told me that we resided in the back of the village, and their village was linear enough to reach the other side by walking straight.

The houses around me were one floor tall and made of mud and wood. The people were sleeping; no candlelight appeared at their windows. And there were no sounds of living beings except for the bats.

Or maybe there was one.

I stopped by the temple.

Lights were leaking from the temple’s windows. The temple expanded over three or four houses in size. Within its walls lived the Libraman, who guided the children and taught them how to pray. And the man who one day would supervise me through the listening rituals. The rituals where I would finally listen to our god, Thin-Ra.

I once visited the temple with my mother and prayed to Thin-Ra. As my mother believed in Thin-Ra, She had always prayed and asked Thin-Ra to protect me.

I stopped in front of the temple. Beside the door, there were two windows, and I spotted the shadow of a person praying inside. His hands were high in the sky, and he was crying.

I also looked at the sky and wished for Thin-Ra to protect my mother. Then, continued walking.

Thin-Ra will one day respond to me. I thought.

Thin-Ra created Kias- our world- and made every fate in it. My mother once told me that even if we didn’t see Thin-Ra, Thin-Ra saw us. My mother had told me that no one had ever seen Thin-Ra, but our god had blessed us with evidence of their existence. Thin-Ra made thousands of stone bricks carved in a language no one understood and no one needed to understand. The bricks of Thin-Ra told a part of a tale, a part of fate, or maybe a part of ourselves. And we didn’t need to read it. We needed to touch it, and Thin-Ra would talk into our heads.

My mother had told me that in her listening Rituals, Thin-Ra told her her name, her type of human, her powers, and a skill she had in her blood.

“You have it too,” I recalled her words.

I looked up.

The clouds began to cover the moon as I reached the other side of the village.

The weather cooled my way, and I wished I had chosen something with long sleeves. It wasn’t abnormal. It was the end of the fall. Yellow dry leaves filled the wind, and I sniffed the smell of Oak from the air.

My eyes widened as soon as I stepped into the empty field of the village’s entrance. Actually, I wasn’t the only one there; a circle of five dark-haired girls was also present, all five jumping around while holding hands. I walked past the circle of girls, but then I stopped.

The girls were singing a strange song.

Their voices were cold. Light but sharp like a knife. And before I could notice, a strange odor replaced the smell of oak. A good odor, a familiar odor I might have smelled only a few times before. Sweet?

Yea that must be sweets. But what kind?

I wanted to know. I had to know. What would such sweets taste like? An apple pie? No, maybe a banana one… perhaps both.

Fog struck my head, and I felt the world spinning around him.

My eyes, for a second, became fully dark.

But then, I remembered something.

Since when was I a boy who withered over hunger? My mother had told me before that hunger should never weaken a manipulator. Foods of any kind were only a way of living for me; a manipulator.

I opened my sleepy eyes to their full extent. And the world stopped spinning. And I saw the girls. I saw their true faces…

Rats.

Giant human-sized Rats with long sharp teeth, dancing with glowing green dots as their eyes.

My heart skipped a beat. But I was calm, just like what my mother had taught me.

But then the Rats disappeared.

And the five girls returned dancing. And the beautiful smell returned. And now, the beautiful sounds of the girls filled the place.

“The troll witch is sad; everyone she meets is bad,” one of the girls said, the girl beside her following. “But a few times she will try. Hopefully one will not lie.”

The girls danced closer to me. Two of them let their hands loose and engulfed me in their circle. And continued dancing around me.

“Nevertheless, they forget… the tales she tells and how they met.”

The girls looked at me.

“She is good but sometimes hungry. If a kid is bad, she gets angry”

I became dizzy.

“The witch once again will try. Please, boy, don’t ask us why. Will you be a good kid? Or will you die?”

I felt dizzy but smelled something nice, sweets.

I closed my eyes. I dropped to the ground. My senses were dull; everything felt cloudy. I felt someone touch my body; I was then held and carried. I opened my eyes and tried to refocus my vision. Finally, I saw everything around me. I was no longer in the street but deep in the forest. The monkeys in the trees stared at me as I got carried; their blue eyes were like dots in the night.

Before I could react, I was dropped onto a wide road. Cold stones and mud stung me into a clear mind, and I observed my surroundings. Many wooden posts lined the sides of the road. Each one was topped with a glass orb, a glowing figure sleeping inside it.

I blinked twice as the figures became clearer; I had seen them before, in paintings my mother had shown me, fairies.

When I stood alone at the beginning of this path, I noticed the wooden door at its end. The door and the whole cottage behind it were veiled with a green hill, dangling vines hung at the edge of the veil.

My eyes flinched for a second.

Then the smell tickled my nose again.

I sniffed. The smell assaulting my nose was both strong and gentle. It was so creamy and sweet, just like the cake my mother had made for me before she had left. I walked with short steps, every step bringing me closer to the unknown.

The world felt cloudy and dreamy.

And strange thoughts waved around my head like smoke.

What if my mother waited for me behind that door?

What if she has been here all the time, waiting for me to come and have a little party? What if what was behind the door was a candle that smelled like cherry, a piece of cake, and a voice I had longed for, for the past two years.

For the first time in my life, I shed a tear.

“Stop!” a voice said from behind me. I turned around, my half-opened eyes shedding tears on their dark eyelids. I trembled for a second, then took a deep breath and calmed myself. My mother had told me that calmness was a part of me and that I should be proud of it. She had told me that the calmness I hated would one day help me from getting into deep trouble.

The figure in front of me emitted white light, like a fairy but in white. The figure’s eyes weren’t clear, but her mouth moved into words.

“I have a question before you enter.”

The figure floated closer to me. Her hair was curly, short, white, and illuminating. She had two little horns sticking out of her broad forehead. It wasn’t hard to see if the figure was a girl or a boy because she was naked, but she looked my age.

“Do you hate hybrids?” the figure asked.

I didn’t understand. I had never heard of a hybrid. Not even once. Was it a monster? Or a name? It did not matter because I wouldn’t hate someone I didn’t know.

I shook my head.

“Hah?” the figure stepped back, then her mouth smiled. “Really?”

I nodded.

The figure came closer and murmured into my ear, “Tonight isn’t your turn.”

And I heard a thud, followed by stabbing pain in my stomach. The world became less bright, darker, and soundless.