A gruff cough broke through both Zayd’s thoughts and the cries of mirth. “While I agree with you, Elder Keiya, today is hardly the day where Zaipha Al-Faris should be relaxing,” Elder Kevry of Amareh spoke; his words grabbed the young Tilithian Weapon Wielder’s attention despite the vast distance between them. “I’m sure you all can feel it like sand riding the eastern winds. Not only is today the anniversary of the Zaipha’s birth, but people from all eight oasis’ will be tuning in tonight to watch the Coronation Ceremony either from their screens or in person, though not all wish the young Weapon Wielder good fortune on his journey. Some hope to see him fail while others will be critiquing every movement he makes, good or bad. We all must be on our toes.”

Zayd nodded the whole way through, agreeing with every one of Kevry’s words. No matter what he does, he can never please those people. Due to his position as the Weapon Wielder of Tilith, they’ll speak to him with either contempt or fear and then take everything out of proportion when once he speaks up in response, declaring that he’s going to oppress them or he’ll use his terraizing powers to kill them all. Not only was it aggravating, it wasn’t fair. They see themselves and others around them as individuals, but he isn’t given the same courtesy and is seen as an amalgamation of all of his previous incarnations and their supposed horrible deeds, some so far back in history even Zayd himself no longer remembers their names, much less the deeds they’ve committed. The wider the gap between the more recent and past incarnations get, the worse his collective memory becomes.

But he tries not pay those people a whole of attention. Many people may dislike him but there are also plenty of other people also love and appreciate the spiritual guidance he brings as the Zaipha. While he loves them all equally for supporting him, he holds two people very close to his heart: his father and his little sister Ha’verya. He could imagine them now, the glee sliding off their voices as they congratulate and praise him, telling him how much they love him while holding him tightly within their embrace after the Coronation ceremony was over. Although tonight’s ceremony did make him slightly nervous, the thought of speaking to his family once more before leaving on his journey did provide him some peace of mind.

If only… Mother could’ve been around to see this day, his lips quivered slightly and tears swelled at the thought, but he dried them as best he could. If she saw him now, she wouldn’t like to find him crying. He could almost hear her cheerfully say, “If your lips are upside down, mine can’t help but follow, so don’t cry, Maka, Ha’verya. Two beautiful girls like you two shouldn’t cry, so come on, put them frowns upside down”, while she held him and his sister close; her bosom smelled faintly of orange-flower perfume while her clothes gave hints as to what that night’s dinner will be.

Despite the childhood memory being from a time of happiness, it only brought with it a feeling of nagging regret. If you hadn’t preoccupied yourself with Zaipha duties and Weapon Wielder training, and visited her in the hospital, maybe your mother wouldn’t have died, the voice inside his head told him. How could you even do that to her? Especially after the two of you repaired your relationship with one another after she finally accepted that you wanted to live as a man.

Ever since she passed away a season ago, penitence continually hung over him like an annoying melody that won’t leave him. If only he had gotten over his fear of seeing her like that – his warm and gentle mother inside a sickeningly disinfected room, her hand growing weaker and frailer by the week while her once gluttonous appetite was withering away – then maybe–

“Are you alright, Zayd?” asked Elder Zamya softly, her hand laid on his shoulder like his mother used to.

The Tilithian Weapon Wielder didn’t respond right away and didn’t move either. Though after a few minutes, he wiped his tears. “I’m fine. Thank you, Zamya. I…” he deeply inhaled, his breathe still shaky. “I-I was just thinking about my mother… She would’ve been the most excited for this day, screaming and cheering louder than anyone else. It’s a shame that she won’t be able to see it.” Instead of digging himself into a deeper hole, Zaipha Al-Faris decided to smile. Despite a few moments of weakness on his part, a Zaipha mustn’t let their feelings show. It’s rather undefined. Besides, that’s what mother would’ve wanted, to put his frown upside down. “Thank you for your words of wisdom, Elder Kevry. I agree with your words the most. Today is the most inappropriate day for relaxation, especially considering tonight’s festivities. On the topic of tonight’s ceremony, my father and little sister will be attending,” he told the others with much certainty. “Once they arrive and get situated, escort them to my room, alright?”

The Elder of Panjkora didn’t respond right away and none of the other seven Elders stepped in either. With everyone so silent, the feeling of suspicion grew. They were hiding something from him. He knew it and he didn’t like it one bit. “Well?” he asked, his voice sounded surprisingly like a thunderclap against the silence. “Why did you all suddenly become quiet? Do you think if you just go silent, you’ll just disappear from my presence? I’m blind, not daft. If you have something to say then just say it.”

A gentle, soothing familiar hand rested on his. “Zayd,” Elder Zamya finally responded. Her voice sounded hesitant, equally so were her words. “I’m… sorry to tell you this but… your father and sister won’t be able to make it to tonight’s ceremony. They called earlier. I’m sorry.”

All the excitement he held earlier about seeing his father and sister on his special day sunk like a well-built ship that fell into the depths of the Norian Ocean. Completely in shocked, the frown on his face hanged there frozen as his mind started to race. How can they not come? They always came to his birthday celebrations, what makes this one any different? They said they were going to come. They kept on reminding him that they were these last two weeks, so were they lying? No. They don’t lie. They won’t. But if they didn’t lie, then why?

Zayd’s lips thawed out of the ice and twitched, ready to speak and ask all the questions his mind had concocted, when the flutter of fabric and jingling of anklets interrupted him. Wafts of juicy camel meat spiced with classic Navasarian spices like garlic, cumin and oregano, filled the gazebo’s wide-open space like it was a wave, carried atop by what looked to be a platter that levitated high through the air. Soon plates of steaming hot yucca bread and amarlah, gelatinous K’myese sugar cane syrup flavored with spices, walnuts and dates, flew by, furthering the intoxicating aroma and Zayd’s howling stomach. His favorite dessert had arrived.

“Lunch is ready,” a young, soft-spoken namkita woman announced with the whispers of her anklets following closely behind. “Would any of you like a refill of your drinks before you enjoy your meal?”