Sunny Ademir—Year 2018 AS
"Damn, the moon, always shining over my food," I cursed.
My fingers found the soft inside of the bread. I ripped the crumb from its crispy crust and rolled it around my palms. After shaping it into a small, white ball, I threw it into my mouth, cherishing every chew I could. Swallowing the food, I stood up and gave the rest to a white-furred cat. It was a normal one; I had never encountered any talking cats in the sixteen years of my life. I peeked through the exit of the street. It was calmer and quieter than usual. Weird. I hesitantly slipped out of the dark alley and walked on the main streets. For a tarnished like me, I was glad there were no defendman to beat my ass today. Those bastards have no better job than hunting and beating down the tarnished. Those Endless Greatness of the Five are vicious monarchs. Well, at least to the tarnished.
The short and small houses were all decorated with either firekeep or godgovern trees. Then, my ears perked to two voices coming from afar, both belonging to men. I instantly hid behind a godgovern tree between two clay-brick houses. Its large black trunk and blue leaves were more than enough for me to stay safe. I leaned my ear close to the street, trying to listen to the two defendman. A tarnished has sharper eyes and ears than any lineagefolk could ever dream to have.
"The last time I checked, the Five were going to begin their reshaping three months ago," an old, crispy voice said.
"Don't care how long it takes, a hundred years if need to. I would give my wife and son's lives to cleanse these tarnished off the streets. I stopped pitying them when they robbed my nephew's house, raped his wife, and then murdered him, his wife and his newborn," a younger sound replied insincerely.
I slowly looked out and observed them. They looked the same to my eyes. Wearing the all-white armor and the blue cloaks of the defendman of the Moonveil Crest, their violet eyes unfocused. One of them had a very thick, long beard, tied at the tips, and looked to be very aggressive. Judging by his young face and balding hair, he must have been in his twenties. The other one was way older. His hair was curly and white; he had a tall, bulky body. Both of them carried swords by their sides, unaware of my presence.
"By the Five Lords, there is not a single tarnished out here," the thick-bearded defendman said. "We should've taken our time with the girl."
"Why do we? We kill to obey, not for pleasure. But for safety and security over these muddy streets. You can butcher a pig or stag if you yearn so much. However, I don't recall a stag in Lineage City."
"I am not some horrid beast."
Still, no garbage scavenger. We must have scared them enough to cause those bastards to run back to the outskirts," the older one mocked.
They both laughed at the absurd joke and eventually left my sight and ears. Stepping out from the tree's safety, I walked in very, very silent steps. The cold wind washed me. "Damn the gods, I hate it when winter arrives this fast." But gods aren't down here, are they? Right now, only the tarnished and cats are dwelling in these streets, well, also the defendman, but who cares about them?
I soon found a calm alley which seemed empty. It was narrow and dark, ripped clothes were all over the muddy floor. There were two wooden barrels side by side, one open, one closed, big enough to keep me warm and cozy for the night.
I looked inside the open barrel and reached my hand to feel if anything was in it. When I sensed nothing unusual, aside from a sharp, pointy thing, I hopped in and curled into a small ball, bringing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. The sharp item was only a stagnant black horn, which was really odd. Why is there a horn? Exhaling, I saw my cold breath even in the dark—no questions to ponder here, only my sleep.
I opened my eyes to a sound of clinking coming from the other barrel. Was it a defendman? I hesitated to raise my head and see what was happening. But my little brother's curiosity had taken hold of me. I peered and looked around; it was still night, the moon still up in the cold sky. There were no defendman in sight, only leaves hovering in the air. Maybe it was just a cat or bird. But no matter how many minutes had passed, the noise coming from the barrel had not lessened and had instead increased violently.
"Damn," I cursed, "this could wake the people."
I darted back and forth between the main street and the wooden barrel to see if anyone had come to look for the source of the noise. When I made certain there wasn't a single soul out there, I jumped on the mud floor and slowly reached for the cap of the barrel. I held my breath the entire time until I removed the top of the barrel and leaned to see what lay inside—and what I saw scared me stiff. A girl flung from the barrel, almost causing me to trip and fall. What jumped from the barrel was a girl no older than twelve, her violet gaze raised and her long, unevenly cut, messy hair flowing with the cold wind.
"Finally!" she proudly declared. "I hate barrels!"
My eyes twitched with desperate frustration. She was a tarnished. One with long purple hair, ripped and dirty clothes, an injured cheek, and very sharp nails. She finally looked down, her violet eyes giving a gleam, even if she was just a lowly tarnished like me.
"Oh, hello, my fellow lad. I am pleased you rescued me from my sleep barrel. By the bastard gods, those defendman are mere vicious cutthroats."
She hopped and landed beside me. Her eyes met mine. She was a lot shorter for her age, reaching only my chest.
"Hmm, I have never seen such dark violet eyes," she said, narrowing her eyes to examine me closer.
I uncomfortably pulled myself away from her. But she was right. The violet in my eyes was so dark that they sometimes looked black in a moonless night. My badly kept black short hair was what the other tarnished used to identify me, this and my left hand, which had no thumb. My face was cute for a tarnished; some say cuter and softer than a baby's.
The child placed her hands on her hips and scowled.
"Don't run away from me," she said. "What's your name!?"
I frowned in return and crossed my arms.
"I saved you. What is your name?" I did not try to hide the spite in my tone.
The girl bit the inside of her cheek and then glared at me. Our stare-offs continued until she finally sighed, declaring me the winner.
"Fine, I am Cathy Kuze. Or you may call me the Original Sin." She sounded her name so proudly that I almost assumed she was not a mere tarnished.
I showed no reaction to her declaration and flicked her forehead as a response. Cathy yelped and covered her forehead like a lifeline.
"Ouch, show some respect, you imbecile."
Rolling my eyes, I turned my head around, saving myself from her small gaze.
"Hey! Don't run away from me!"
"You smell like shit," I said, a hint of a smile on my lips.
"Well, no shit. We are tarnished, every tarnished smells like shit from ten miles away. Hmm, maybe that's why people find us so easily."
I ruffled my rough hair and then sat down on the muddy ground.
"Stop talking so loudly. People are going to know some children are wobbling in their garbage."
Cathy sat down on the floor as a taunt to me.
"You never told me your name. You have bad manners even for a tarnished."
I bit my bloody lips. It was a drag, really. Folk of Lineage City gave the people who live on the streets the name tarnished. A tarnished could be any age, gender, or name. If a person's income is from garbage barrels, then they are a tarnished. And in the night, the Unity of Defense unleashes hundreds of defendman into the streets of this gargantuan shit-pile of a city like they are hounds of justice. And if a child is born on the streets, then they get the name people call them by.
"My name is Sunny. Sunny Ademir."
Cathy cocked her head.
"You are everything but sunny."
A humorous chuckle escaped from my mouth.
"And you don't look like an original sin."
Cathy pulled out her tongue.
"You have no idea. My birth is the mirror of the first sin."
She was a sin, just not the first one.
"Will you enlighten me on why you were locked inside a barrel?"
The Original Sin took my words lightly. She crossed her brows and forced a smile on her face. Her head gestured to the barrel behind her.
"I was having my dream sleep when two defendman suddenly woke me up and made fun of my appearance and gender. As such, I mocked them back. One of them drew his sword, but the other guy, who looked much older, recommended that they instead close my barrel and let me suffocate to death.
"Harsh and painful way to go," I noted, the words leaving in bitterness. "Glad you've woken me up."
Cathy sneered wildly.
"Bear witness, I will have my justice."
"And how will you? I recall we lowly tarnished have little to no rights under the laws of Five."
Cathy sulked and rubbed her temples.
"You should need a new name. Who even named you Sunny?"
A flash of memory emerged in the depths of my mind. A blurry and painful face covered in blood and tears—a knife deep in his chest, looking at me with such a gentle smile.
Cathy waited impatiently, her fingers drumming on the mud, she hummed a poem in her tongue. A poem even we knew well—written by a poet, whatever his name is, in the era of the Last Republic.
"'Flame. Flame. For fire shall never be tamed beneath the threefold night. Dancing in trays, thou be brave. They name blaze the fairy of inevitability. Thus the symmetry of nigh, thou dull bright.'"
She finally inhaled the cold and exhaled it.
"This long ass poem always dries my lips," Cathy complained. "So shall we steal some food from a nearby outlet?"
"No! If we…"
I abruptly hushed both her and myself. My ears perked up at the sound of footsteps. Cathy noticed the noise too, and I immediately grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to the barrel where I had slept through.
"Calm down. Sunny. Be a—"
I covered her mouth tightly, listening to the sounds I assured belonged to the two defendman.
"Not a single tarnished yet. By the gods, I am tired; we should just take our leave. My wife and daughter wait for me at home." It was from the same young, thick-bearded defendman.
Cathy squirmed in my grasp, trying to break free. I pinched her neck until the little girl shut the hell up. It was a problem, a large problem for us lowly tarnished. I was on her, pressing my weight to her, but she had to withstand it just for a few minutes, for both of our sakes.
"What about the girl?" the young defendman asked. "Should we not check on her?"
"What'd be the point?" the older one opposed. "She's dead by the Yellow Sun rises anyway. Perhaps sooner."
Cathy tried to curse at them, failing as I threatened to pinch her again.
"Maybe we should just kill her ourselves? What if she escapes there? Those vile people intent to help one another all the same," the young one insisted. "And a tarnished never forgets."
"If you will keep weeping like a five-damned whelp, then I will punch you. But if you press on it this much, son, we shall take her. Make it quick, she is yet a child."
The fear I buried arose. They were going to come here and discover us. They were going to kill us. Cathy continued to wiggle; I was going to pinch her harder until I noticed her eyes pointing at a sharp object—to the horn. My hand instantly drifted to the keen horn, picking it up and clutching it with both hands, letting Cathy go. She leaned her back on the barrel's wooden wall and groaned, holding her throat, puking saliva from her mouth.
"Disgusting," she whined, "don't ever do that again."
I shot a warning glare at her as the steps came closer. We were inside a barrel that we relied our lives on.
"I could swear to you, I heard a voice coming from here," the young one said.
"Then take out your sword. Let's be quick about this. I hate killing children."
The sound of them unsheathing their swords was loud and scary. Cathy's eyes widened in terror, and so did mine. I instinctively gripped the horn tighter as they walked near.
"Huh?! I told you so! The girl is gone! Someone must have opened it."
The old defendman proudly declared,
"Then there are two. Have the girl."
"Why do I get the girl?!"
"Ugh, fuck her, kill her, what do I care?! She is a lowly tarnished, no one to remember her name, no one to mourn her face."
"What happened to her being a child?!"
"Shut up! I am on the edge of sleep here. My eyes are half open. I am a man, should you recall. And do I have to keep reminding you how much the Unity hates when tarnished cause more trouble with each passing day? I heard they even have an inn now where they talk about chicken and usurping. If we do not keep them in check, the Five will saw our heads."
I narrowed my eyes at their ruffianism and brutality. My lips pressed into a very thin, furious line. The two defendman's movements were much clearer. I could hear their metal armor moving as they leaned. They were about to catch us.
"Don! There is movement in this one," the younger bastard said, standing over our shield.
"Dear Crag, have you ever heard of a creature called a cat?"
Don growled and raised his sword.
"I'll show you a cat." He shoved his blade down. I kicked Cathy away from the tip of the sword and then lunged from the barrel, catching the two men off guard.
"What the fuck?!" the younger cursed.
Gripping the horn with all my strength, I drove it straight to the man's left eye. Plunging it deep into his skull. He screamed in pain, his sword falling by his feet as he attempted to push me off.
"Crag!" the older one cried. He lifted his sword and rushed toward me. He was about to strike me down, but in that pivot moment, Cathy jumped from the barrel to the old guy's face, covering his vision and stunning his attack.
"Get off me, you tarnished!" he barked.
Cathy wordlessly grasped the guy's shoulders to keep her balance and bit his nose off, then she spat it out, blood flowing from the old man's face. In my hands, the younger bastard tried to break free and live to see another day. I shall not give him that courtesy. With a last, long push, I stabbed the horn even deeper in him. Shortly after, he fell on the mud floor, blood gushing from his eye and mixing with the mud. I landed on the mud, looking over the dead body with disgust, feeling nothing aside from it. The other one had also died, falling as Cathy jumped from his corpse. She had used her nails to land the finishing blow, carving the defendman's eyes. They were much more poorly trained than what I'd first expected. I eyed the horn, which was stabbed deep into the defendman's eye. Panting, I looked away from the body. Why was there a horn inside a barrel? Nonetheless, we were fucked.
"Hah! Bastard! A tarnished indeed remembers."
I gave her little time to celebrate. I took Cathy by the hand and began to run. Fleeing the mess we had just made before people noticed their protectors' two lifeless bodies were lying in their garbage barrels. As we ran, I made sure no one was watching yet, I felt something witnessing what we had done. My eyes flew open. I felt an alien presence beyond comprehension watching me. I felt it mock and judge. My footsteps had quickened. Cathy asked me what was going on. What answer do I dare to give her? Almost as if a true god arrived to give us his reckoning. And a breeze colder than snow washed over me.