"I pray for light within the darkness. For shelter in the rain. For love amongst my neighbors. For mercy in the pain. I pray for love unending. I pray for hate abstain. And when the night is over, I pray for day again."
I open my eyes to the darkness and count my sheep.
One… Two… Three…
For now, it is all I can do.
Being ambushed by my assailant after dropping my guard reinforced my will to stay awake. Last night, I was able to use a method I dared not in the sands. I propped myself up against a tree and used my grandmother's paralysis to keep my eyes open, doing the same for the captives to stabilize their slumber.
As sunlight beams onto my skin through gaps in the canopy, the last of its effects come undone.
My initial suspicions were wrong; this place is no mirage. Specters, illusions, and mirages are rendered useless in my sight. I was only being pessimistic, thinking there exists a being capable of surpassing my bestowment.
This level of warmth is nothing compared to that of the desert. The cool, pleasantly humid breeze still feels like basking in an oasis. In the distance, I hear a stream where sirens beckon me to sink into the rapids.
But after a night spent staring into the darkness, I've come to notice something unsettling.
This land is almost entirely devoid of the divine breath.
The seven facets of the image are the seven characteristics that distinguish life:
The first ember of the promise—existence.The second ember of form—shape.The third ember of desire—emotion.The fourth ember of reflection for knowledge and regret.The fifth ember of growth, which makes change possible.The sixth ember of the self, which makes them seek out others.
Grandmother told me that some people only believe in five of the seven facets, but there is no greater proof of the seventh than my own experience.
I was seven years old when I received my bestowment.
The ordeal was far less than glorious. In the end, my vision was sealed behind a length of cloth that keeps the worst of my abilities in check. Resigned as I was to a lifetime of blindness, I was pleased to discover a strange side effect to the curse.
I can see the ember of divine breath that exists within every living creature.
The intensity, shape, and location are different for each, even within a species, but I've grown accustomed to navigating a world of only darkness and faint grayish light.
For a human, that flame is located within the chest, right above the heart. For small creatures and insects, above the tail and in the thorax or abdomen. For plant life, it travels from the roots into the leaves in a branching stream of grayish smoke.
All these flames are present inside the forest. Flourishing, even. The foliage is dense and sprawling. Insects squirm underneath rocks, and birds flit from tree to neighboring trees alongside other furry creatures.
However, no flames are burrowing under the earth. None circling the skies far above. None disguised as one of the trees, bearing petrified fruit whose seeds burn suspiciously in a way that mimics the flame of a human being. There are no monsters here as far as the eye can see.
What the eye can see is one thing, but these creatures behave as if such things never existed at all.
Just what is this place these soldiers have led us into? Is there an even greater darkness that has claimed this territory as its own? And what lies on the other side of this forest that necessitates a year-long march?
Ninety-four sheep. Still, this forest sure is peaceful. Now that the paralysis has worn off, I find myself drifting off to…
"And so I told the whore, you can either mourn the bastard while I fuck you silly, or I slice up you and the kid before fucking you both!"
A cacophony of laughter erupts from within the trees. My eyes snap open at once! That is laughter! Human laughter!
Surveying the forest, I see eight vigorous flames cutting through the bushes. This is the fruit of the prophecy's pilgrimage! One of these people is to be the first of my flock! Profaned to walk behind me on the path of my destiny!
"Then, when the bitch finally gets on her bloody knees, it's only to sob out some blasted prayer. I mean, if you can't even recognize prime meat slapping you on the face, then I might suggest choosing another occupation. And that's exactly what I told her. Probably the last thing she ever heard—poor thing—A whore should only bow her head when it's time to swallow."
Their laughter simmers down as the group breaks through the final veil of green. Between their speechlessness and mine, the stillness of the steel men and the slumber of my fellow captives, the ambiance of the forest is slain by a merciless silence.
Six men dressed in leather armor were not a sight to behold. Between their yellow teeth and wildly unkempt hair, like weeds growing at the edges of a swamp, they were even more lackluster. My birthplace was none short of clad hunters. However, only two of those great hunters earned the right to wear the fruit of the chief's greatest conquest.
My grandfather, who died in his impenetrable solid-steel chestplate. And his son, the exorcist, who wore a pair of shining steel gauntlets that went down to the elbow.
As for the rest of that fabled set, I'd only heard about its disappearance under my grandfather's harshest grumblings. "Well, well, well," The scar-faced man at the head of the group finally grins. "Tell me something, little dreamer. Do the Heavens have eyes?" As he speaks, the fire inside his chest flares with ravenous hate.
How absurd the number. Those strangled lifeless by the crimson strings of fate. And yet, somehow, this world has chosen these men to prosper despite its cruelty and their trespasses. How absurd that we would meet again under these circumstances. How absurd that we would meet again at all.
If this world had any good… If the heavens had eyes… "If the heavens had eyes, then all you traitorous bastards would be dead." "Good, good, good! Looks like you didn't turn out quite the pussy your grandmother was raising after all!" The lead traitor marches up to me with murder in his stomps. A few of the captives stir awake at the commotion, thinking the march has begun another day.
"But it ain't too late to beat the bitch back into you," he announces with a dirty grin. "Tell your mother I said 'hello'." Heavy-handed blows rain down upon my head.
I instinctively cover my face, but a pair of gauntleted hands easily shatters my defenses. The brute, five times my height and weight, soaking wet and standing on my toes, wraps my locks between his armored fingers to hold me still.
Each strike blooms red across my vision. The taste of iron running down my throat meets a torrent of bile that rushes upward from a direct strike to the abdomen. His breath—hot, spoiled by victory—pours out to stifle my own as it stings my nostrils with the smell of inward rot.
"Still breathing?" he sneered, pausing momentarily.
Coughing, holding back a slew of darkness brewing at the tip of my tongue. Not for his own sake, but for my own. "Of course," I answer quietly, but still enough that The Heavens will hear my resolve. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Good! Good! Good!" Wild laughter rings out in the forest.
The brute pulls his arm back for another series of swings.
I brace myself for the impact, knowing that this is the beginning of my destiny. Any moment now, The Chorus will smile upon me! They will grant me the power to vanquish this foul beast and his sorry herd! Then, I will force them to atone for their sins! I will take back the armor they stole from my grandfather before they fled the village! I will save all my sheep, barring none! And then, I will bring light to the entire world!
The fist comes down, but I do not budge.
Suddenly, a pitiful voice cuts through the air. "Leave my brother alone!"
Another flame rushes past the others and barrels into the attacker.
He slams into the armored brute with more heart than strength. Yet somehow, impossibly, it is enough. The man goes flying, tumbling across the forest floor, his plates clanging against root and stone.
The newcomer collapses beside me, gasping as if he'd run halfway across the world. His small frame quivers with exhaustion, flickering wildly, guttering against the weight of the world yet refusing to die.
I turn my head toward him. My vision swims, but I can see it clearly.
The way this fire burns. It can be none other than him.
"Jonah?" I say, asking more to The Heavens than anything on earth.
In my mind, it is raining heavily. The raindrops would tremble in the air before they touch him, unwilling to snuff out what little light he carries. His eyes would meet mine. Wild, terrified, and bright with something far purer than courage.
"You're alive!" I whisper.
He only shakes his head, teeth gritted, as if defying even the world's order to exist beside me. "Of course I am, little brother," through ragged breaths. "Don't tell me you forgot what I told you. As long as I'm alive, the only place on earth for you is by my side."