"Just the thought of a near-death experience sends chills down my spine. I've danced with death more times than I can count since the day I was first allowed to step outside our fortified walls.
Just the other day, I was tasked with feeding the wyverns in the stables—the very same beasts my father used to tend to with a calm hand. Ever since his mysterious disappearance, my mother and I, along with a few others, have shouldered the burden of maintaining not just the fields but also caring for the animals and fending off the occasional land dragon that dares to trespass.
These dragons are relentless, their eyes burning with an ancient, primal hunger. Their senses are unparalleled; they can smell fear from a mile away and strike with the speed of a lightning bolt. More than once, these savage beasts have descended upon our wyverns, causing chaos among our livestock. I remember the day my older brother, Kain, faced one down. It was a monstrous creature, its scales bristling like a sea of jagged spikes, and its horns twisted and gnarled like the roots of an ancient tree. When it roared, the sound was deafening, like the thunderous rumble of an avalanche, and its breath reeked of sulfur and decay.
Kain, though young, stood his ground. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand gripped the iron rod until his knuckles turned white. The land dragon bared its fangs, each one as long as a dagger, and lunged at him. But Kain didn't flinch. He waited, poised like a coiled spring, until the last possible moment. Then, with a speed I couldn't believe, he struck—driving the rod straight into the dragon's eye. The beast let out a blood-curdling scream as it toppled over, its massive body crashing to the ground like a falling star.
I could only watch, my heart pounding in my chest, as the dragon lay still. My brother had done the impossible—slaying a land dragon, a creature of legend and terror, in a single, decisive blow.
I, Mariam, will never forget that day. It was the first time I truly understood the price of bravery and the strength that lay hidden within my family. But why, you might wonder, am I telling you all this?" Mariam's voice trembled slightly as she sat on the cold, hard ground. Her hands clenched the dry earth, trying to draw strength from it, while the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows over her tormentors.
Her bullies, a group of sneering, rough-edged kids from the village, circled her like vultures. Their faces twisted into cruel grins, eyes glinting with malice. One of them, a boy with a mop of unruly hair and a permanent sneer, stepped forward. Without warning, he kicked her in the face, the impact sharp and stinging, and then pressed his dirty boot against her cheek, grinding it into the ground.
"You're just a loose mouth," he hissed, his voice dripping with disdain. The others laughed, the sound echoing in the empty field, as if the world itself were mocking her pain.
But Mariam, despite the tears welling up in her eyes, held onto the memory of her brother's strength. Someday, she vowed, she would find that same strength and courage within herself.
Just as she had described, it all happened in the blink of an eye. The kid pressing his filthy boot against Mariam's face was suddenly sent flying through the air. One moment, he was towering over her with a sneer, and the next, he was nothing but a blur.
The other kids stood frozen, their jeers cut short. They hadn't even seen what happened. But Mariam had. Her quick eyes caught the flash of movement—her brother Kain, appearing out of nowhere, his fist connecting with the bully's jaw. The force of the punch was so powerful that the kid was hurled through the air, crashing into the wall of a nearby building with a sickening thud.
For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, as if breaking free from a spell, the other kids realized what had just occurred. Their faces drained of color, and without a word, they turned and ran, their laughter replaced by panicked yelps as they scattered in all directions, desperate to get away from the fury they had unwittingly provoked.
Mariam, still on the ground, slowly sat up, her hand touching the spot where the boot had pressed into her cheek. Her heart was pounding, not from fear, but from the overwhelming sense of relief that washed over her. She looked up at Kain, who stood like a sentinel, his eyes blazing with protective anger. In that moment, he wasn't just her brother; he was her hero.
"Big brother, why do you strain yourself with such petty tasks?" Mariam asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and concern.
Kain glanced down at his sister, his stern expression softening. He extended his hand to help her up from the ground. "Because you wouldn't want mother to do this herself, would you?" he replied, his tone gentle but firm.
Mariam shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "I'd prefer you any day over mother. She's an even bigger monster than you are," she teased, though there was a hint of truth in her words. Their mother was a force to be reckoned with, far more formidable than Kain.
Kain's lips quirked into a slight smirk. "Besides, Mother said I should keep an eye on you," he added in a tone that was almost robotic, as if he were reciting orders.
"Is that so?" Mariam questioned, raising an eyebrow. "I'm a big girl now. I could have easily thwarted those jerks, you know that, right?"
Kain chuckled, a low sound that rumbled in his chest. "And yet you have a scar on your face to show for all your thwarting," he responded, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and concern.
As the two of them began their walk home, the last light of twilight faded, giving way to the deep blues and purples of night. The sky above them glittered with countless stars, the rocks in the night sky beginning to glow with a soft, ethereal light. The path home was illuminated by their gentle glow, casting long shadows that danced at their feet.
The siblings walked in comfortable silence.
As they approached their small cottage, nestled just past a small forest at the base of a mountain, Kain and Mariam heard loud thuds reverberating through the night air. The sound was so heavy, it seemed as if a giant were stomping through the land. The cottage lights were on, a warm glow visible from the path, but the noise was so jarring that the siblings quickened their pace, hearts pounding in their chests.
Mariam flung the door open, her breath catching in her throat at the sight before her. Their mother, a tall and strikingly beautiful woman with dark skin and long black hair cascading down to her waist, was locked in a fierce struggle with a monstrous creature. The thing she was wrestling with was no ordinary fish; it was a King of the Sea, a title given to the most ferocious and enormous fish in the lake. This one, however, was more than just terrifying—it was grotesque.
The beast was like a giant catfish but far more nightmarish. It had legs similar to those of a sea turtle, thick and powerful, and it weighed as much as a killer whale. Its mouth was filled with teeth disturbingly similar to a human's, making it both ugly and unsettling to look at. Its eyes bulged grotesquely from its uniquely shaped head, giving it a sinister and unnatural appearance. The creature was nearly the size of a full-grown man, thrashing violently in the confined space of their home.
"Dinner will be ready soon, kids!" their mother called out cheerfully, her voice at odds with the chaotic scene. She had the beast in a firm grip, as if wrestling with such a monstrous creature was just another part of her day. "Just, uhhh... take your seats, or you could come help me slaughter tonight's dinner."
Despite the bizarre circumstances, her calm demeanor was almost reassuring. Mariam and Kain couldn't help but be awed by their mother's strength and fearlessness. Her long black hair, swaying with her every movement, only added to her formidable presence. And those red pupils, glinting in the light, made her look every bit the warrior she truly was.
She was easily one of the most beautiful women around, but more than that, she was a force of nature—someone who could wrestle a monster into submission while making dinner plans for her children.
As she drove the knife into the monstrous fish, their mother kept up casual conversation with her children, as if she weren't in the middle of slaughtering a creature that could have easily killed an ordinary person. "Mariam, how was your day with the village kids? Did they hurt you?" she asked, her tone light yet attentive.
Mariam instinctively touched her face, feeling the tender spot where the bully had left a scar earlier. "Ma, not a chance," she replied, her voice full of bravado. "If anyone ever tried to hurt me, I'd beat them into submission—just like you."
Their mother chuckled, a warm sound that filled the small cottage with a sense of comfort and strength.
Eventually, the struggle with the King of the Sea came to an end. Their mother, victorious as always, prepared dinner with the spoils of her battle. The aroma of the cooked fish filled the air, and soon, the family was gathered around the table, ready to eat.
Kain, Mariam, and Ike sat around the round table, their eyes meeting as they each took their seats. But as they settled in, the empty seats loomed large in their minds—three empty seats. One belonged to their father, whose absence weighed heavily on them, and the others were for their siblings who were still missing, lost to the unknown.
Their mother stretched out her hand, a silent invitation for them to join in a family prayer. They clasped hands, the warmth of each other's touch providing a brief solace in the cold, uncertain world they lived in.
She began to pray, her voice steady and filled with quiet reverence. "Dear Lord, I appreciate your gifts—the gifts of the earth and the sea. Thank you for keeping my darling and our children safe. I pray for their continued safety. Amen."
With that simple prayer, they opened their eyes and began their meal, the taste of the food mingling with the unspoken hopes and fears that lingered in their hearts. Even in the midst of their struggles, this small act of togetherness reminded them of the strength they drew from each other—and from the love that held their family together.
Far removed from the warmth of family, a lone stranger staggered through a bustling night market. Clad in dark brown robes that had clearly seen better days, the fabric was worn and torn, clinging to him like the remnants of a life once full but now crumbling. Each step was a struggle, as if the weight of the world bore down on his shoulders, threatening to pull him to the ground.
As he weaved through the crowded market, his eyes scanned the vibrant scene around him. Brightly lit inns beckoned with the glow of their signs, and hostesses stood outside, smiling and calling out to passing men, hoping to lure them in for a night's respite. But a place to sleep was the last thing on his mind. His only desire was something far simpler—a single steamed bun.
His hollow eyes finally locked onto a vendor, and with the few coins he had left, he purchased his meager meal. Finding a quiet spot away from the noise and the clamor, he sat down, clutching the warm bun in his weathered hands.
Before taking a bite, he bowed his head and whispered a prayer, his voice low and full of emotion. "Oh dear Lord, I thank you for your gifts. I thank you for the gifts of the earth and the gifts of the sea. I thank you for keeping my darling and my children safe as well."
With that, he bit into the steamed bun—the first food he had tasted all day. The simple act of eating, combined with the familiar words of his prayer, was a small comfort in a life full of hardship. For this man, far from home and loved ones, the bun was more than sustenance; it was a connection to the family he longed to see again.