World's Abyss: A Journey of Exuviation and Rebirth

World's Abyss

A Journey of Exuviation and Rebirth

Kiki Yaw Sarpong

Copyright © 2024 by Kiki Yaw Sarpong

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact Kiki Yaw Sarpong.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover by Martin Lugwarha Kalere

First edition 2024

To my mother, my present, and my future family.

Contents

Preface

1.Into The World’s Abyss

2.A Prayer To The All-Mother

3.Wings of Royalty

4.Ushura Siem Fuelim Dä

5.Remnants Of An Outer World

6.Sailor City

7.A Wedding Or A War

8.Dock Fifty-One

9.Eyes Of A Fallen Empire

10.Love, Fury, Carnage

11.The Father And The Son

12.Tales of Winter

13.Shades Of Spring

14.I Will Scour The World Till I Find You

15.The Stench Of Defiance

16.The Prize Of Rebellion

17.The Beginning

Epilogue

World Map

About the author

Preface

I am a creator of worlds and a conqueror of my imaginations. I am a seeker of truth in all its forms, and I won’t deny that I express heavy disappointment when the truth I seek alters from my fantasized idea of the world. I’m an adventurer of the mind, though I’m still trying to get better at my adventure in nature. I am in awe at the beauty of the world and ache at its inequities. I know of balance, and the unchangeable flaws of people, but I still selfishly hope everything about the world was all-good. Can it ever be? Or is our objective idea of all-good flawed? I would understand in all honesty because I myself am flawed. A flawed man, a hopeful man, a black man. I write my stories hoping to create the fantasized ideas of the world I build in my head. I create the characters with a love I didn’t even know I could have for scribbled words on a piece of paper. Love for the ones you may deem objectively good or objectively bad; each one I put careful thought into, to craft their dreams and their desires. I apologize in advance however, because even in my fantasized world, I couldn’t make everything all-good. I found my idea of that was also flawed.

I’m a creator of worlds and a conqueror of my imagin… hmmm, I wonder if my imaginations rather conquered me?

To all those who helped me get here. The list might be too long to write but know that you’ll always be appreciated in my heart.

Chapter one

Into The World’s Abyss

Breathe ... Let the wind guide your hands and focus on your target.

The string weighed tense on her fingers and the fletching steadied as the breeze kissed her cheek. Her father’s words echoed in her ears. The point of her arrow gazed at her opponent, its golden skin bathed in sunlight unbeknownst to the perils that lay hidden. With her fingers firmly nocked, it raised its eyes, meeting her gaze; two little dark voids each bordered by fur white as clouds. It stood unmoving, oblivious to its fate though its eyes still begged for mercy. Naemi stared back, doubt filling her heart, she let go.

"Hahaha — I knew she couldn’t kill it, father!" Her brother uttered, springing out of the bushes. Naemi reached out to knock his head, but he ran.

"You can’t even hold a bow well, you doodle," she fired back. The doe was long gone by now. Fast as lightning it scattered, maybe faster. An arrow whizzing past its ears was as good an indication as any to find new feeding grounds.

"I’m sorry father," said Naemi. Eyes lowered, unable to glance at her father.

"You’ll get it next time, we already caught three rabbits today. Let’s head home so I can make my famous rabbit stew you like so much. he responded. An answer that lightened his eldest child’s face. He noticed the uncertainty in her eyes as she drew her arrow toward the doe, and regretted asking her to do it even though he thought it necessary. Hunting was a great skill to have and he was eager to teach his children one of the basic foundations of survival. Naemi was a great archer, confirmed by the numerous times he’d watched her hit the center of her mark on tree targets during her secret" practices. Weirdly, she seemed to always miss an actual target. It wasn’t until their third hunting trip that he observed her arrows consistently shooting past the prey’s ears. Close enough to signal danger but far enough not to hurt it. A couple of similar experiences followed and he kept trying, hoping that one of these days she would take the next step, but it was all for naught. At least these misses seemed to amuse her brother who was always eager to mock her afterwards.

"Hmph." Ozai let out a sigh. Another failed attempt.

He initially wanted to hunt the doe himself but thought this might be a wonderful teaching experience, and a great story at that. Unfortunately, he now had neither the story nor the doe, and was just grateful he had caught the three rabbits earlier.

Naemi was now in full pursuit of her brother. Arrows hopping in their quiver as she chased after him. She was fast, but Dakai was faster. A boy of three and ten, three years younger than his sister; svelte and of medium height. He dashed past the trees, springing over branches, barks and stems with no effort. His braided black hair bounced around his head as if in excitement for his triumph in evading his sister. Naemi slowly came to a halt. Her mistake was letting him get a head-start. A mistake she never learned from. He was truly elusive.

The walk back home was as calm as it could be. Rabbit stew, she thought. A smile plastered across her face again. It had been a while since she’d had some, and just the thought made her salivate. It could be argued her father was one of the best cooks of rabbit stew in their entire town. He was not as good at cooking other food, but for rabbit stew, he had a sorcerer’s touch. He never divulged his recipe even after the countless times she’d asked. She once guessed the secret ingredient to be ground Séte leaves in her attempt to replicate, and ended up cooking the worst stew she’d ever tasted. She remembered her father trying his best to ingest it with a pleasant face while her brother dramatically spit his scoop out of his mouth with visible displeasure.

"Are you trying to poison us? he blurted out. This was the day Dakai came up with her infamous Poison princess" nickname.

She hated it.

Admittedly, she was never a good cook and nor was her father, apart from his specialty. This much she knew. Dakai was the one with the sorcerer’s touch in this aspect. He made meals that made her taste buds dance with excitement. Of course she never acknowledged his delightful cooking, and always retorted with, "It’s a decent meal," anytime their father gave him praise, but deep down it was one of his qualities she adored him for.

Speaking of her brother, she realized an opportunity to sneak up on him while he admired some plants ahead and burst off.

***

The sun inched closer to rest. Its rays dimmed and the clouds scrambled in the sky as they lost their golden shrouds. The forest air smelled of green and tranquility, and the tree leaves swayed with every pulse of a breeze. The night-dwellers were on the verge of awakening and the day-wanderers made preparations for slumber. Sounds of playful teens and rustling branches rippled off trees and forest floor into the forest void.

The town wasn’t too far now. Fenced by the forest of Anul and the mountains of Lua, it boasted a sizable population, vibrant and peaceful.

Ozai walked well behind his children. Their playful antics had sped their return home, and he felt no similar burst of energy to keep pace. No matter, he loved the quiet — or not entirely quiet walk home after a somewhat successful hunt. The forest was peaceful and he could reminisce about old glory days as much as he wanted. He rarely spoke of those days with his children, for the emotions that surfaced with some of the words were sometimes too hard to bear, and he despised showing any emotions of sadness in the presence of his gems as he called them. "Our gems, his wife would always correct him mockingly. I did most of the work." She’d add.

And of course she did. Naemi’s birth happened in the middle of one of the worst storms to hit Soros in five summers. She came days ahead of what the birth-mother predicted and took till night to be birthed. He remembered running to the farmer and his wife the next house over to seek help because there was no way to get to the birth-mother, and Shaye was screaming so much, he thought she’d die. Night fell and amidst the rain, a brown-eyed baby girl was born, with curled hair as black as midnight, and skin brown and shiny, it reflected the light from the candle flames. She didn’t cry, not once. Just stared in his eyes as he held her, rainstorm be damned. "Naemi … That should be her name," Shaye said, bloodied and exhausted.

"Through the storm," Ozai reiterated in approval. Tears in his eyes and a smile across his face, he gazed at his first child in admiration.

Dakai was another story. Came out screaming like his hair was on fire. Half the town could hear him the moment he popped out. A single tear streamed down Ozai’s face and trickled along his cheek.

Ozai smiled. — Oh how he missed Shaye.

***

Home was in sight now. Living a bit farther away from town had its benefits and drawbacks, but the former heavily outweighed the latter. It was quieter here, and no one complained when Naemi rode her horse as fast as she could. "Who’s that standing in the middle of our yard?" Naemi asked.

"Can you not recognize Aunt Rema? You truly are blind," Dakai responded, walking by her side. Enough running had tired them both and a truce was called.

"I’m not blind, you just see too well with those eyes," Naemi fired back.

"Whatever you say poi..." He stopped himself before he had to deal with the consequence of his name calling.

Truce still intact.

Naemi was going to ignore him just this one time. Chasing after her younger brother was no small feat. She lost most of the time yet never gave up.

"We lost father," Dakai said. A usual occurrence on most of these trips. Ozai used to grumble at the constant departure of his children on the return home but grew used to it in time; even desired his time alone now. He would still appreciate it if they carried the game home once in a while, it would save his shoulders from the weight.

"Naemi, you want to finish this race home," Dakai proposed. Naemi looked back at him with disinterest.

"Are you not exhausted? And what is that stuck to the bottom of your pants?" she responded. Dakai looked down and she burst off again. If she lacked the speed against her brother, trickery was going to be her helper.

As Ozai once remarked, "You’re either the fastest or you’re not," and she most definitely was not.

Rema looked back to see a speeding Dakai and his sister panting and frazzled right behind him. A scene she wasn’t a stranger to. Basket in hand, filled with fruits, fresh radish, cabbages, and potatoes from her farm. She and Ozai supported each other after becoming victims of the same dreadful predicament. The widow and the widower, some in town called them though never to their faces. Others guessed they would get married and support each other since they were close and had built deep bonds of friendship. It seemed logical. These opinions however rarely left the privacy of their rooms. Once, the baker’s daughter made a comment about Rema acting like Ozai’s wife when she was buying bread for him. A comment she paid for with a nasty smack to her face. "Have you no respect girl?" she fired.

The truth lay significantly far from the gossip. Close friends before, tragedy brought them closer. They complimented each other and helped as best as they could. From sharing fresh ingredients from her farm and his hunting game, to looking after children, fixing broken tools, cleaning stables and any activity that either of them required help in. Their relationship worked in the most unique way possible but never went any further. It’d been four winters since her husband passed, Ozai’s wife passing a season before, and time had barely healed her wounds. Maybe at one time, in a moment of vulnerability, she thought of taking the extra step but what that meant was a question better left unexplored.

Even Naemi fell victim to these gossips, and what followed was a fortnight of tantrums, scoldings and tears from all sides in this endeavor. Except for Dakai, who just went about his day looking for herbs and visiting the town healer. After the fortnight of chaos, tempers calmed and both families had a discussion. Turns out Rema’s daughter and her youngest son had similar concerns, and this discussion was indeed needed. Clarity helped a whole lot, and both families grew in their appreciation for each other. Naemi and Rema’s daughter bonded even closer and Naemi ended up being one of her flower-hands at her union last summer.

Dakai whizzed past Rema to a halt.

"Sorry auntie, you seem startled." Her reflexes saved her lest she dropped her basket.

"You almost made me spill the food!" Rema barked back. Dakai reached out to rid her of her extra weight and she willingly obliged.

"Where’s your father? Leave him again?" she asked.

"He just walks too slowly and Naemi was chasing after me every chance she got," he responded in defense.

"You two truly never get tired. Any good game this trip? The butcher’s wife mentioned some scarcity in the market today." she questioned.

"Yeah, we had trouble finding anything for a long while but lucked into a nest of fat and juicy rabbits, and a nice-looking doe a bit after but we lost the doe," Dakai answered.

"Let me guess, she missed again, didn’t she?" Rema said with a laugh.

"Not on purpose Auntie!" Naemi, who finally reached them, responded amid loss of breath.

"I am sure it wasn’t sweetie … I’m sure it wasn’t," Rema echoed sarcastically.

The door to the house creaked open. Always first home, Dakai often had the keys. He picked up the basket and went inside. Aunt Rema followed.

Naemi stayed back to check for any signs of her father. She could have relieved him of at least one of the rabbits, she thought to herself with remorse.

He would have a faster return if she did, and she’d be way closer to some sweet rabbit stew. Next time she won’t be consumed with the thought of catching up to her brother; next time she would be the darling daughter and walk beside her snail-paced father carrying all the game.

A trend of her history will call these statements into doubt.

***

Night came slow and steady. The season of early summer was fading and the late summers came with longer days and shorter nights. Flickering lights sprouted in different parts of the Zenu home and joined other sporadic flames in brightening Soros from above. Hungry horses neighed from their stable for their dinner, and fireflies buzzed around without regard or ambition.

The door opened and Ozai stood at the threshold. Rabbits in hand, he tossed them to the side with a tremor. "It’s getting quite chilly," he remarked.

"You’re getting old Ozai, the children got home long ago," Rema interjected.

"Rema? I didn’t know you’d be coming by today. Did Daem leave for the capital already?" Ozai asked.

"He left at dawn today but not to the capital. A messenger-bird came to the town’s old-guard requesting all army foot-soldiers near the east shore to report to the eastern infantry. Something about pirates or warships or an enhanced, not really sure which it was," she answered.

"An enhanced? That sounds dangerous," Ozai responded with concern.

"I thought so too. However the message was more uncertain, and Daem mentioned a lot of false alarms most times, only known enhanced is part of the queen's royal guard, so I reckon it’s false," she remarked. And Ozai nodded in slight agreement.

"Well, I need to get to cooking. Rabbit stew tonight and everyone is quite famished. I was going to get Dakai to bring one of the rabbit’s over to you, but you can take one home since you're already here. Want to stay for rabbit stew?" Ozai asked.

"Good thing I brought some fresh radishes just in time, and could I ever say no to your rabbit stew? It’s fit for the queen," Rema responded in excitement.

Dakai descended down the stairs hearing his father’s voice. "Finally! I am starving, father." He said in exhalation; as dramatic as only Dakai can.

"Okay ... Okay, I will go get to it then," Ozai teased as he left the room. Dakai in close pursuit.

Rema collapsed back on the rocking chair. Arguably her favorite piece of furniture in the Zenu household. Made of Oakenwood and cloaked in a heap of soft sheepskin, this is what she imagined lying on clouds would be like. She loved it so much she asked Aika, one of the most skilled carpenters in Soros to make a replica for her, but the result never felt the same. It rocked too hard or too slow. Or the fur didn’t feel as right even after she switched it infinite times. She tried at one time to just ask Ozai for it. A question that startled him but ultimately decided if it meant that much to her, she could have it. Unfortunately, that didn’t help either. It creaked so much in her home, she returned it in a sennight.

"Some things feel right in only one place," she remembered Ozai saying satirically. And he was right. A trait he visibly derived pleasure in.

The windows rattled rhythmically as a faint zephyr filled the parlor. The lamp flames danced around occasionally but still held their ground. Rema put some extra logs in the fireplace and the flames roared back in appreciation. More light filled the room with warmth in hand. The bricks adopted the color of the luminescence of the flames, and Ozai’s hunting trophies gleamed on the walls with pride. The hide of the famous Irkshire wolf that tormented the town for weeks, a skull of a mountain deer with horns big as tree stems and the white scales of a snowlizaed; as surprising as that is having one this close to Soros.

Admittedly, this shouldn’t be possible for a common blacksmith. Even Daem questioned the legitimacy of killing the snowlizaed, citing the best army archers would lose in an encounter with such an imposing creature. Town gossip would have that he just found a dead young snowlizaed and brought it home, and Ozai never argued in defense. Regardless, the town’s old-guard relentlessly pursued him in recruitment, an act which he denied time after time. Unknown to most is that Rema saw for herself what was returned from that hunting trip. An accident really, she showed up to the Zenu blacksmith forge in need of fixing some broken knives, and witnessed what she could only describe as parts of an animal she couldn’t identify. It had bright white scales and it oozed blood that had lost its hue. Shaye was hunched down over it, axe in hand.

"Rema? ... You startled me," Shaye said, slightly flummoxed.

Rema looked back at her quizzically. A little silence followed and Shaye added, "Oh we caught a shara … umm a snowlizaed. I didn’t even think we had those in these parts, their meat tastes incredible!" Shaye said with enthusiasm. Rema continued to gaze at her. The words for a response hadn’t formed yet or couldn’t. Ozai walked in the smithy from behind her.

"I see you broke another set of knives. I can just make you stronger ones instead of buying from the market you know," Ozai joked.

"Have you seen Naemi and Dakai? We haven’t seen them since our return and the snowfall is getting heavier," Ozai added.

"Uh ... Uh I saw Naemi on her horse a while back but haven’t seen Dakai," Rema responded.

Thud! Shaye hacked into the meat over and over again.

"You can leave it and I will get Naemi to bring it back when I’m done. Tomorrow evening, perhaps," Ozai concluded. She nodded and dropped the knives. Turning around to leave, Shaye stopped her and handed her a pot of meat continuously raving about its good taste. In hindsight, the memory blurred together, and she couldn’t tell how long she stood there or when she got home. Her husband filled with disbelief when she accounted what she saw but evidence made it harder to discount. Curiosity got the better of them and they both reluctantly tried out the bepraised offering they’d been given, only to conclude that there hadn’t been anything sweeter on the tongue under the Mother’s light.

They never mentioned this encounter to anyone, but this wasn’t their last time experiencing something unusual in the Zenu home.

A crawling aroma interrupted her thoughts. Dinner was close.

***

Naemi poured more grain into the bucket. The other horses were not even close to finishing but Bellie had finished his with expedience. He looked angry, as angry as a horse could look and huffed repeatedly to signal her to add more. She obliged. She was late to serve their dinner and they did their best to voice their displeasure, Bellie always the loudest and headstrong. She was almost done with cleaning the stables.

Dinner shouldn’t be too long now, she thought. It was her responsibility to feed the horses and clean the stables. She loved being around and playing with the horses, but not so much the cleaning. Someone had to do it regardless, and she’d rather do this than the forge. Yes, it smelled worse here, but the forge was hot, dark and dusty and made her cough and sneeze till her chest gave out. Better a job for Dakai. At least this way, she could spend more time with Bellie and saddle him at her whim. She picked up a horse-brush and combed his hair. Gray like a gloomy day with brown patches splattered across his head and body, his beauty couldn’t be hidden even at night. He was her favorite and he knew it; the other horses did too. He neighed in gratitude with more strokes of the brush. It truly is surprising how fast and strong he had grown. A sickling as a foal, it was by mere chance she encountered the trader who owned him on his way to sell him to the butcher. "Good meat must not go to waste," the trader claimed.

Some bonds are created in the most peculiar of times. However, pleading and tears weren’t enough to persuade the trader to let go of his possession for free when he could get a few bronze coins in exchange.

Ozai opened the door to a crying Naemi, a stranger and a small — almost dying horse.

"Your daughter said you will pay seven silver coins for the horse!" He barked in a hoarse tone. Ozai looked at his daughter’s expression of anguish and knew entirely what had happened. He hesitated still. Not for the fact that a fully grown healthy stallion sells for ten silver coins but because losing Shaye a summer ago tore them in pieces and he feared what another attached loss might do with wounds still bare. Nonetheless, he paid the price to buy his daughter joy; even if it might be brief.

The days that followed came with a lot of unrest and trips to the town-healer. Different concoctions later, the horse’s sickness barely budged. At night, the foal would sleep next to Naemi on a small cot Ozai built next to Naemi’s bed, and she would always get off her bed to sleep next to him, regardless of how many times Ozai moved her back. He gave up after a couple of tries. Sometimes, he’d squeal in agony at night’s peak and she’d hug him and rub his belly in response to dull his pain. The more days that passed, the more Ozai questioned whether he had made the right decision. The foal’s health wasn’t improving and he continuously searched for answers. On one of these searches, the town-healer proposed a solution. A venturous endeavor. If potions and medications weren’t helpful, it could be possible the only means of discovering the issue was exploring inward.

An older woman of seventy and nine, she tended to almost all the health needs of the town, seven assistants under her tutelage, and a high reputation that stretched towns over. "I want you to know it would be very risky but I’ll do my best to help him," she said. Naemi obliged as she laid the foal on the wooden table for the procedure. Four of her assistants stood close-by in preparation. The second of the butcher’s daughters; Azzie, a woman of thirty from Shoretown in the east; Fael, the one-eyed baker’s third son; Lupe, and her youngest assistant, Dakai. In truth, this wasn’t a resort she’d normally engage in, especially for animals but beseeching from her assistant had gotten to her. She had at least located the source of the pain; a small region on his underside, close to his hind legs.

The operation wasn’t a pleasant one. Blood, bodily fluids and excrement were the least troubling items extracted. The worst had passed, and the wait for possible recovery or inevitable perish was forthcoming. Naemi stayed in the outside room throughout the entire process. Through the low groans and high moans, Ozai stayed right with her. It was almost sundown when they returned home, foal in his arms and his children close behind. The young horse was still breathing, even through all that pain. A fighter through and through. The upcoming days came with brightness for the Zenu family.

The little thing, as Ozai liked to call it, was showing more signs of life and energy. Undoubtedly a member of the family now, his appetite for grain and bran was nothing to be trifled with. He was walking on his own accord in a fortnight and running in the fields by two. Fully healed at this point, you could almost never know his history if not for a large black scar on his belly-side. Henceforth his name — Bellie.

***

"It is time for dinnerrrr!" Dakai yelled into the stables.

"You don’t need to scream it, I’m standing right here!" Naemi fired back. Her job here was done and she lifted her lamp to leave. A final goodnight pat to the horses who were on the verge of sleeping, and a goodnight hug for Bellie.

"We aren’t going to wait all night for you, princess," Dakai budded in as he left with a sheepish smile on his face.

***

Dinner was served.

Ozai looked at his masterpiece; pride filling his lips and his ego growing with every passing scent of aroma. Took a little bit longer than usual but the food was finally here. Rema helped set the table. Four chairs and four hungry mouths tired of waiting. Dakai entered the room with Naemi at his heels.

"No running in the house! And I don’t want to hear any excuses," Ozai scolded vehemently.

"You should be too tired for all that child’s play," he added.

"Sorry father," they said in unison, and calmly headed to their seats.

With everyone seated, Ozai looked to his daughter for a prayer. "But I said the prayer last time." Naemi defended in a childish tone. A response Ozai countered with a stern look filled with grim. She gave in. Eyes closed, she prayed.

"We give thanks to the Mother, for unending light and fruit of the land. We give thanks to the sailor, for blessings of the sea and salt from water. We give thanks to the warrior, for devotion and servitude in protection of the Mother and queen. The Mother’s light is forever eternal. Xalem."

Spoons clashed bowls and food filled throats and bellies. The crickets choired songs in the distance; never sweet enough to be acknowledged or desired. The creatures of the night traversed the Anul forest in search of food, territory, or any other things beasts do in their free time, whilst the streets of Soros ran empty except for an old-guard or two patrolling the roads. The patrols weren’t glorious most times but necessary regardless. Once or twice every season, a beast from Anul strayed close and would attack a native in the dawn of morning or peak of night. Worst of those attacks was the mountain bear that attacked two winters ago. Five men sent to the infirmary with cuts and claw marks drawn all over their bodies. Two breathless before Arwa could even set sight on them. Fire filled the town center, broken sheds filled the roads and roars filled the air. When the smoke cleared and the sun brightened, the damage in view was colossal. The days that followed went slow. Mourning and burials occupied the earlier days. After, the town’s people banded in camaraderie and worked to fix what could be fixed. A dozen days later and the new town center buzzed in attraction. Brighter than previous, it boasted a bigger market and better sheds. Another tragedy endured, another entry into the history books.

Back in the Zenu home, dinner continued.

"So I heard you’re leaving for Shoretown tomorrow morning?" Rema asked.

"You heard?" Ozai countered inquisitively.

"People talk you know, She responded with a smirk. Ahh the butcher still can’t keep his mouth shut, Ozai said with a smile. He added, He needed some tools fixed, and I don’t have the supplies for it. I’m low on materials and work keeps piling up."

"I was wondering when you were going to go this season. Do you mind getting me some Tuscan-fish at the Sea-market? I haven't had some in ages, and they’re plentiful around this sun-period," Rema replied.

"Are any of them going with you?" She asked, looking at his children.

"It’s just two days and I’ll be back before nightfall. There's no need to bother them. And of course I can get some fresh Tuscan. Naemi loves those too," Ozai answered.

"But I want to go! I’m the only one who has never visited Shoretown. You never take me anywhere, Dakai blurted in frustration. You took Naemi with you the last time," he appended.

A brief silence ensued with stares and seeping emotions.

"I will take you when you’re older," Ozai responded bluntly. An answer Dakai wasn’t pleased with, evident by him storming off. Ozai just looked on. This wasn’t the first time he’d denied his son of experiencing the world outside Soros and it probably wouldn't be the last. Rema ate the rest of her food in silence. Awkwardness had crept in and she did her best to hold her tongue. Indeed, Ozai had a peculiar strictness with his youngest child. He rarely left him to his whims and freedom, and once scolded him emphatically for engaging with a traveler. She was surprised however that he let Dakai learn under Arwa. Shaye was the one probably liable for that decision. She and Dakai shared a lot of resemblance; he was a copy of her features and exuberance.

"I haven’t seen Raex in a while, he doesn’t come by anymore," Naemi said, trying to rekindle the smoldered flames of conversation.

"Oh… he’s trying to join the old guard unit and is preparing for the test of warriors. He’s following in his older brother’s steps. I barely see him except for when he has to eat or sleep." Rema answered feigning enthusiasm. Two of her children already residing in the capital and possibilities of her youngest also leaving certainly didn’t excite her in the slightest. The younger generation loved adventure, and Soros did little to quench their thirst. A small town caught between the mountains and the forest, it flaunted beautiful scenery and little excitement. The capital on the other hand roared with advancement and jubilation. The tournaments, festivities, banquets, and more opportunities for employment pulled children from parents in their quest for grandeur and better living. Soros did none. Far enough from the capital, it also wasn’t significantly close to any larger towns. The closest large towns: Farla, Rune, and Shoretown, were spread across the coast about half a day’s ride to the east. Bigger and