It was in the last moments before Winter, when Nimkii asked if he could speak to me.
The conversation began as we ate. My appetite had only just returned so my plate was hardly touched. Almost immediately I could tell that it was something important, from the way they whispered together across from my seat. They had always sat together, although Nimkii would sometimes place his chair in-between Luo Yu and me. After – that day at the market, however, he let me have my space.
Today was such a day, up until this moment.
“Ysra,” Nimkii began gently. “Do you want to know how we came here?”
The question shocked me. Despite my curiosity I’d never thought to ask. If they needed to tell me, they would. If they never did, that was fine. Our bond was akin to family, but if some force interfered and spun us in different directions, at least I would still have my father to rely on, and we would return to how we were before they came.
Yes, our mission certainly bound us together, but apart from the basics that I’ve shared with you – we did not know much. I never felt a desire to search for more either, as the pair promised me that the answers will come when the Gods decide. Although the thought of shelving my desires for some omnipotent being who did not walk the same ground or feel the same uncertainty as I did in Breiðr was sickening – a part of me knew they were correct. It’s unclear how much of that was “me” and not divinity’s silhouette forever shadowing parts of my mind.
I nodded in response
to Nimkii, setting whatever remained of my plate aside as they did the same.
The flickering candle between us shook with Nimkii’s deep exhale, as he cupped
his hands together and pressed them.
“I was born as the Mountain Range’s prince, although we don’t really have such a thing. My mother just advises the tribe with a few fellow women. They appoint an individual to lead, and that person ended up being my elder brother,” Nimkii’s face remained solemn but, in that moment, he smiled, ever so softly – as if remembering something, “we lived well. Simply, but well. Eventually some – people – came to know of my identity and wanted me for their own purposes”
He looked up, expecting me to interrupt with a question about who they were.
I just shook my head. “Anything I need to ask I’ll ask at the end.”
That habit was always something I’d coveted. When it comes to matters that pain an individual, it is better to let the story leave them as water drips over an edge.
"Having very little options to hide, we decided on Breiðr since it forbade these individuals from entry. At first, things were hard but tolerable. But when the drought killed my brother,” his head dipped low, “I had to survive on my own without knowing any Woodland speak. At a pyre – for my brother and a hundred others – I met Luo Yu.”
Luo Yu understood it was his turn to continue, for Nimkii’s recount seemed to etch new lines of fatigue onto his face. “Nimkii told me about the mission, and I’d known myself to be gifted from a young age as well. We’d lived on the streets until you and – “
The “and” covered the room in silence. Luo Yu cursed at himself for mentioning it and both boys looked at me. I felt a little ashamed of how potent my grief was.
“And my father took you in,” I finished, although my voice cracked. “Who was chasing you?”
Nimkii, eager to reorient the conversation away from – away – sternly said. “They call themselves God Seekers, but you know them as God Hunters. People who believe Sirin’s Prophecy about the Gods incarnating.”
“But trust me, they aren’t people we should ally with,” Luo Yu interjected. “They think the gods really inhabit us completely, and we possess no personality of our own.”
That was a sentiment I found myself unable to share. Of course, I possessed my own thoughts and feeling separate from the Summer God, especially when considering the scriptures always detailed him as a passive observer to the conflict between the younger gods. And if you’ve read this far and know me in life – you know I am anything but passive.
But at the same time, I did not see much wrong with them thinking so – with a little deception shouldn’t they be easy to control? Such thoughts I kept to myself however, for Nimkii’s face was so pale even just speaking their name.
“Does that complicate things?” Nimkii asked.
“Everything does, quiet thunder,” I replied.
Silence. That was one of the nicknames my father used. I cleared my throat and moved on. “And what about you, Luo Yu?”
“Me?” Luo Yu said. His residual limb was crossed over his right leg. “This is from birth, as you know.”
“Yes, but what of your family?”
“My family is dead,” Luo Yu grumbled, “and that’s about it.”
Spoken with an air of finality he grabbed his crutches propped up beside him and walked to his room. Nimkii dipped his head and followed.
It was not for some time that I heard all of Luo Yu’s story. But that is something I will recount when the time is appropriate.
===
It was Spring when a letter was placed under our door, embossed with the royal seal. I placed it in the center of the table and let my brothers sit on either side of it. For a few minutes, we sat in silence. This one, I created. I knew that there was no avoiding the fate sealed within that envelope. Divinity has a funny way of stringing you along enough to believe you can change something, when that very belief makes things remain the same.
I took a deep breath in and exhaled with a sigh. Something very familiar to both my brothers as my father held that same habit before he made any decision.
“We should open it. Assess the situation, then progress.” I nodded. “We have to open it regardless of its contents, and knowledge can only benefit us.”
With a statement to ease myself more than them, I shakily scratched at the envelope. Nimkii - observant as ever - put his hands to mine. His eyes brown and dappled with gold as sun does through leaves, always grounded me. No words were spoken, but so much was said. That was the magic of Nimkii’s gaze, it communicated through feeling alone.
Across the table, Luo Yu nodded.
I smiled slightly at his awkward show of support, and then cut the envelope. Upon swatting away the crumbly remains of the wax seal, the letter appeared white and crisp. The paper seemed to smell of sweets and perfume – scents so foreign to our reality. The handwriting was elegant, cursive, and formal. Annoyingly formal.
The letter’s contents were simply an invitation to attend a gala held in the palace for the fallen Brigadier Generals. My father had never told me much about the field, and he certainly never told me he had been promoted to such a rank. Upon investigating his helmet, which sat atop an altar opposite my bed, I found the letters B.G hastily scratched on the back. It surprised me that I hadn’t noticed it sooner, having traced the outline of its shape in the darkness after nightmares. Pathetic, is it not? Waking from a nightmare only to be presented with a reality far worse. There is no relief in grief, you wish to forget when you remember and remember when you forget.
“Are we going?” Nimkii asked, his eyes meeting mine.
“I don’t believe we have a choice.”
“Well, whatever it is. We shall face it together,” Nimkii said. “Right?”
“If we can, then we shall,” I replied. “Together.”
I grabbed both in my arms and gave them a hug. Nimkii happily received it while Luo Yu groaned loudly and jokingly tried to resist, “I’m going to be a pancake at this rate!”
We all shared a laugh at that. Whatever laughter we could snatch from circumstance. Despite the ominous event on the horizon, we were in the company of each other. That is worth far more than you think.
Comments (0)
See all