Ouzin tilted his head forward, trying to push his way through the sandstorm. He stopped for a second, readjusted his goggles and secured the scarf around his face, then continued plunging through. The sound of the wind wiping up sand sounded uncomfortably like a swarm of flies, and indeed the Kroshta desert felt alive. It was easy to believe that each grain of sand had some sentience and intended to batter him down, in the same way the sand storms have brutally battered all the land in the Kroshta desert to the smoothness of glass. His body tilted sideways from another gust of wind, and just as he was about to right himself, another blast from a different direction fully toppled him to the ground. He slid back a few feet before coming to a stop face down. 

Ouzin breathed heavily and lifted himself to sitting. Another gust nearly ripped his head off. Taking deep breaths, he pulled his feet to his chest and tucked his head in the space between. 

“This is ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.” He coughed again, spitting out sand. His throat was raw as if it had been gone over by sandpaper. “Ridiculous!” He gripped the useless scarf covering his head and almost ripped it off. 

He’d been walking through the desert for four days already, and the winds had only gotten stronger and more malicious the closer he got to the Hiskar. He had already known to expect this. After all, such coming-of-age treks were extensively documented. A typical Trigalan was a five-day trek at an easy pace, one way. In total, a ten-day round trip with the potential to change your life. Everyone did it, and exceptional stories were heard often enough. A young bistian from some common family goes to the Hiskar and forms a pact with a powerful hirak. As a result, is immediately boosted into the ranks of nobility and granted a title of power. The trip wasn’t even deadly, just difficult because tradition dictated that people not use items like personal shields or tech-clothing to protect themselves from the sand storms. Still, most people were able to get a holo-map downloaded into their auto-comms, so despite the vastness of the desert, and the interference of the immense psychic power and mana coming from the Hiskar, no one ever got lost. The worst thing that would happen was that they couldn’t push through the storms and would turn back, which was precisely what Ouzin was considering. 

When he thought about it, there really was no reason for him to do this. He was born into nobility, a vala, because of his parents, who were of the Haz caste. His two older sisters and brother had already made this journey and formed pacts which elevated their vala status to haz, just like their parents. All in all, the Laboneir family was already highly regarded. He had no grand ambitions like his siblings and was perfectly happy to live a simple life in his family’s shadow. Whether that made him a failure or not didn’t matter. It mattered to his family, though. It mattered a lot, which was why exactly ten days before his 120th birthday, he’d been dropped in the Kroshta. He remembered how the yellow desert landscape stretched before his eyes. There was no vegetation in sight, and the sun reflected on the polished ground blinded his eyes. Already, from the edge, he could hear the tempest. 

Having grown up like all bistians in the great branches of the world-trees, thousands of meters in the air, the fact that his feet were touching ground and that he was surrounded by such emptiness made him want to crawl into himself. Kipalo, his mother’s secretary, hadn’t cared one bit. He’d left without a backward glance after informing him that his parents expected him back in ten days or less, not a minute past the time he’d been dropped off. His birthday party and celebration for his pact were already prepared, and all he needed to do was show up on time and with a pact worthy of celebration.

Ouzin sighed and raised his head. In the days leading up to this, he’d tried to speak to his mother. He’d wanted to let her know that he wasn’t interested in forming a pact yet, and was happy with his current status. Each time, he’d been turned back by Kipalo, who repeated that his mother was very busy with her tasks managing the Forestry Division. He then tried to speak to his father but again was turned away; after all, his father had galas to attend, events to plan, and people to meet. This scenario was repeated with the rest of his family as well. Eventually, after several attempts, he’d finally managed to talk to his eldest sister, Rilios. She had stopped by the family home briefly to borrow some books from their library, which she needed for her research on healing-type hiraks, and he had been able to catch her just as she was getting into her car.

Ouzin stood up, checked the projection from the map to ensure he was facing the right direction, then began walking again. If he wanted to arrive back by the scheduled time, he would have to move faster now. He sighed, then started jogging as he recalled how terribly the conversation had gone.

# # #

“Rilios!” He’d yelled, running towards her while her driver attempted to shut the door despite seeing him.

“Rilios, come on!” He yelled again. She raised her hand, and the driver took a few steps back. She moved further into the car and motioned for him to join her. She only began to speak after the driver shut the door behind them.

“You have five minutes, Ouzin, and please do not yell my name like that again.” She tossed back her silky straight purple hair, which was a few shades darker than her fur, and turned her golden eyes on him.

 If not for her longer hair and slimmer, more severe facial features, he could have been looking at his own reflection. She looked the most like their mother, but they all did. People often joked that their mother had conceived them single-handedly since the only resemblance any of them had to their father was his pink-tipped nose. 

He tried to pick his words carefully. “If you had answered my calls, I wouldn’t have yelled for you like that. Sorry.”

“Some of us are busy, Ouzin.” She was only 21 years older than him and yet always spoke to him in the most condescending tones.

“Well, then that’s how we ended up in this situation.” Ouzin smiled and continued before she could say anything. “You are all avoiding me, and it’s starting to get on my nerves. I just want to discuss some things before the Trigalan….”

“Ouzin.” She rolled her eyes. “What is there to discuss? Any child on Bist knows what the Trigalan entails. You enter the desert, walk to the Hiskar, form a pact with a hirak, and walk back out. I’m not sure where the confusion lies.”

“Please stop with the condescending Rilios. You know that’s not what I mean. I don’t want to do it! I don’t want to form a pact!”

“And this is exactly why no one wants to speak to you. You say the most stupid things. In what world do you think it would be possible for a Laboneir, a Laboneir, Ouzin, to not make a pact. Do you hear yourself? Our family has done this for thousands of years. This is our history and our duty. Which, unfortunately, you know nothing about because mother spoiled you rotten.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes, you have taken on absolutely no responsibility, and she allows it. Look at Mindal. At your age, she was already about to enter year 22 at the Alaxian Elect Scholar Academy, or Tilmaron; he is only three years older than you and is working as the shan’s honor guard, a Sha’kinal. What have you done?” She exhaled angrily, then continued. “We are not asking much of you. Do the Trigalan, form a good pact, and then you can continue to live your life as aimlessly as you’ve always done.”

Ouzin stared at her in shock before collecting himself. “So this is what you all think of me?”

“No, we think you are capable of much more, but this is what you’ve shown us.”

“I’m trying to figure things out. I just don’t know what I want to do yet, but I know for a fact that if I form a pact, I’ll be forced in a direction based on the gifts I receive. I just want more time… and what if I don’t form an auspicious pact like you all have?”

Rilios sighed and rubbed her eyes, then continued in a calmer tone. “You’re right. I will agree to an extent that you have been trying. You’ve explored everything from the arts to the sciences, but have you ever really given each thing your all? Because from the outside, it doesn’t look that way. You give up when things get difficult. Giving up is the only thing you’ve done consistently.”

She leaned close to him and grabbed his hand. “This is your chance Ouzin. Complete your Trigalan, pray to Sigark that it gives you some direction, and if that fails, you can be content to be one of the many people of the vala caste who have done nothing to earn their place and rest on the laurels of their family name.”

“Also, stop pestering mother. She has enough on her plate with the growth season coming up, and father is busy preparing your birthday party.” She let go of him and turned her attention to the holo-projection in the center of the car, quickly flicking through some notifications before turning back to him. “Your five minutes are long past. Get out.”

# # #

Just remembering the conversation plummeted Ouzin’s already terrible mood. The fact that his family thought so little of him was not surprising. They were all more accomplished, brilliant individuals, so sure, when compared to them, he did fall short. The problem was that they seemed to be assuming that he just wanted to mooch off of them for the rest of his life which wasn’t the case. Growing up, he didn’t develop any talents or natural inclinations towards specific fields like his siblings, so he’d been constantly searching for something that fit him. He knew he would eventually have to form a pact like Rilios said. It would be a disgrace to their family if he didn’t, and despite what she thought, he did take that duty seriously. He just wanted to do it in his own time. It wasn’t like there was a specific deadline or age limit for forming pacts. But for them, milestones had to be hit at exactly the right moments, or it was viewed as failure. Ouzin shook the thoughts away and kept walking.