"Azren!"
"Azren!"
"Azren!"
A soft voice, gentle, warm, almost floating, echoed through the darkness like someone calling from far away.
Azren's eyes snapped open.
Above him was a rough stone ceiling, uneven and cracked in places, with thin shadows dancing across it. The flicker came from a small campfire burning in the middle of the cave. The flame wasn't strong, just enough to keep the chill away.
Around the fire, the cave looked like someone's base. Plastics and old junk were piled in one corner, sorted neatly as if someone used them often. Some worn-out clothes hung from a rope tied between two rocks, still damp and cold-looking. The whole place smelled faintly of smoke and wet stone.
Azren pushed himself up, blinking in confusion.
'Where… am I…?'
Suddenly he heard movement behind him.
"Who is it!" he gasped and quickly looked back.
Someone stood at the entrance of the cave.
It was a woman, her black hair messy, tangled with bits of dirt. Her eyes were pale white, the same strange color as Azren's own. Her clothes were torn and old. She held a small bag filled with vegetables… though they looked more like wild leaves than real vegetables.
She looked at Azren with soft, puzzled eyes.
"Huh… mom…" Azren whispered, shock freezing him in place.
Then he realized something else, his body was smaller. His hands, his legs… he was the size of like a nine-year-old child.
"Huh! What is going on!"
The woman, his mother walked past him without reacting to his panic. She went to a corner, took out an old knife with a dull blade, along with a cracked bowl, preparing to cook.
While she worked, she glanced at him and spoke in a tired but gentle voice.
"Why are you staring at me like you've just seen a ghost?" she said, shaking her head a little.
"You can't keep getting scared that easily, Azren. If you do, people will pick on you… make fun of you… you don't want that, do you?"
She tore some of the leaves and dropped them into the bowl, sighing softly.
"I only managed to find these today. Not much, I know," she said, forcing a small smile.
"But I promise I'll make something better for you next time, alright? I always will."
She stirred the leaves with the old knife, her voice getting quieter, almost drifting with the fire's crackle.
"It's all your father's fault anyway…" she muttered.
"Selling me off to those goblins like some… toy. If I weren't strong, Azren, I wouldn't be here right now. But I am. I escaped. I protected you."
She paused, turning her head just enough to look at him again.
"So you should be proud. Don't worry about grown up things yet. Just focus on growing. One day… I know you'll become someone great. Someone who won't suffer like this."
Her hands kept busy the entire time, cleaning the leaves, checking the pot, poking the weak fire to make it burn a little brighter, while her words floated gently around the cave.
Azren slowly walked toward her, each step unsteady, his small hands slightly trembling. His cheeks were pink, his smile wide but shaky, and tears clung to the corners of his eyes.
His mother noticed and paused her cooking, tilting her head a little.
"Huh… what's wrong?" she asked, truly confused.
Azren didn't answer with words at first, he suddenly wrapped his arms around her legs, holding her tightly as if afraid she would disappear.
Then he spoke, his voice soft but filled with a kind of innocent determination.
"Don't worry, mom… I'll take care of you," he said.
"I'll earn a lot of money someday… I'll buy you a big house… and I'll marry the richest girl in the world so you won't ever have to work or worry again."
His mother blinked, surprised for a moment, then she let out a laugh, patting his head a bit harder than necessary, like she always did.
"You silly boy…"
She wiped her hands and suddenly stood up straight, placing both hands firmly on her hips. She looked down at him with a dramatic, proud pose, her chin lifted slightly.
"Well said, then, my son! I will be waiting for that day," she declared with a playful yet serious tone.
"Do not disappoint this mother of yours!"
Then, very softly… almost like a whisper only he should hear…
"My dreamer…"
Azren looked up at her, smiling through the leftover tears. He stared at her face, strong, worn, tired, but full of warmth. A face that had survived everything just to protect him.
And then—
For a split second, the world tore apart.
The cave vanished.
Everything turned into fire, roaring, violent, swallowing the air. Ash drifted like snow. And in the middle of it all… stuck on a wooden stick… was a head. A woman's head.
Azren's eyes flew open.
This time he saw a wooden ceiling above him, the rough boards shaking slightly with the movement of the carriage. He was drenched in sweat, his chest rising and falling fast.
Then a voice from the front shouted,
"We have reached Herakita!"
He lay there alone in the carriage, staring up with empty eyes, his breathing shallow.
And in a voice small enough to break,
"Mom…"
Azren slowly stood up inside the carriage, his legs still a little shaky. When he stepped outside, a strange heat brushed against his skin, different from home, heavier, almost sticky. He looked around, eyes widening as he took in the sight before him.
The ground was dark, almost black, like crushed coal mixed with mud. Every step left a faint print. The houses around him were made of steel plates hammered together, bent and rusted. Some had holes big enough for a hand to fit through, and people had pasted thick paper over them to keep the wind out. The paper fluttered gently with each passing breeze.
People and children moved around quietly. One small girl sat under an adult's legs, hugging a chunk of meat with both hands as if afraid someone would snatch it away. Her eyes darted left and right, guarded and careful.
Rubbish lay scattered on the sides of the narrow road, broken buckets, tangled wires, cracked bowls, and old cloth bundled together. But compared to the mountains of junk back home, this place looked… cleared out. Not clean, but less suffocating.
"This is Herakita?..." Azren whispered.
Suddenly, a hand tapped his back.
He flinched and turned around quickly.
It was the carriage driver, his expression flat.
"Boy, where's my payment? One silver leaf."
Azren's eyes widened. He hurriedly dug into his pocket and pulled out the small cloth bag. He searched inside, fingers trembling a little, then counted ten copper sprouts and placed them carefully in the driver's hand.
The driver nodded once and walked away without another word, leaving Azren alone in the unfamiliar place.
Azren turned back toward the narrow street, squeezing the cloth bag closed.
"I need to find that person now…"