Djuma slowly opened his eyes, blinking away the haze of sleep. He yawned, stretching his limbs, and was met with the warm smile of his daughter, Miram. She was sitting beside him, gently cleaning his body with a soft cloth.
"Father, you're awake!" Miram exclaimed, her eyes shining with relief.
Djuma sat up, rubbing his temples.
"How are you feeling now?" Miram asked, concern etched on her face.
"Replenished," Djuma replied, his voice still husky from sleep. "How long have I been unconscious?"
"Two days now," Miram said, her brow furrowed.
Djuma's eyes widened in alarm. "Two days! I need to go find the Chosen before it's too late." He rose up, but his legs wobbled beneath him, and he staggered, trying to regain his stance.
Miram rushed to his side, supporting him. "Won't you take a rest to regain your strength? Won't you eat at least?" she demanded, her voice tinged with concern.
Djuma shook his head. "I've rested enough, you know what will become of us all if we fail to find him, don't you?"
Miram nodded, her expression somber. "Yeah, yeah, we're all going to die. You told me a thousand times already, but you must eat before you embark on the journey to find him."
Djuma's face set in determination. "I don't have time to eat, my dear. I'll do it when I get to the planet. Right now, our first priority is to bring back the Jyuran. The hopes of thousands and more depend on him."
Miram's eyes sparkled with persuasion. "Then take it with you, you'll eat it on your way." She packed some food in a brown pouch with a long sling and hung it around her father's neck.
"You're just too stubborn, Miram," Djuma said relentingly, shaking his head in amusement and his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Take care of yourself while I'm gone, and..." Miram finished the sentence for him.
"Don't go out during the day and don't act recklessly," Miram finished the sentence with him, their voices echoing off the cave walls.
Miram rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I know that's what you're going to say, don't worry, I know the weight of the situation going on in the kingdom."
Djuma sighed and walked toward the entrance of the cave, his movements swift and purposeful. "I'll tell you as things go on. Make sure your Lav is always on so I can communicate with you."
"Aren't you going to tell me which planet you're going to?" Miram's voice halted Djuma's pace, her words laced with concern.
Djuma turned back, his expression hesitantly. "The Jyuran is in one of the star planets," he said, his voice low and measured.
Miram's eyes widened in alarm.
"Don't come looking for me there," Djuma warned, his eyes locked on hers.
"What!? The Star planet!?" Miram squealed, her voice rising in pitch. "Do you want to die? The star will burn you!"
Djuma's expression turned reassuring. "Don't worry about me, Miram. I can protect myself, okay?"
Without waiting for Miram's response, Djuma leapt off the mouth of the cave, his movements fluid and powerful. He ascended into the sky, his figure dwindling into the distance.
Miram rushed to the cave's mouth, her head raised to the sky. She watched as her father disappeared into the orange-colored expanse, her heart heavy with worry.
"I wish you good luck, father," she whispered under her breath, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of him.
*****
Mike attempted to evoke the vision he had seen the previous night, but his mind remained stubbornly blank. He had forgotten every detail, except for the haunting whisper of a single word: "Perebia." The name lingered in his mind like a ghostly echo, refusing to be silenced.
"Mom, have you ever heard of a place called 'Perebia'?" Mike asked, turning to his mother, who was sitting beside him, busily setting a table for him to eat.
Mrs. Smith looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly as she sought clarification. "Perelia?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
Mike shook his head, his frustration evident. "No, it's Perebia. I'm sure of it. Is there a place like that?"
Mrs. Smith's gaze drifted back to the cooler she was holding, her expression thoughtful. "I don't know, dear. But why are you asking?"
Mike bowed his face towards the ground, his mind still grappling with the elusive vision. "The name keeps echoing in my mind, along with this strange feeling of longing. I've never felt anything like it before."
Mrs. Smith's curiosity was piqued. She raised her head, her eyes locking onto Mike's face. "But why are you closing your eyes?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
Mike's face twisted in discomfort. "It's blinding and painful. I can't see," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mrs. Smith's confusion deepened. "But you clearly saw me last night. How come you can't see me now?"
Mike's response was instantaneous. "That's because the room is dim!" he exclaimed, his eyes still shut tight.
Mrs. Smith's eyes widened in surprise. "I don't understand. You're not making sense, Mike."
Mike's frustration boiled over. "I don't know why, but I'm sensitive to light. And it's not just that... I feel like I'm changing somehow."
Mrs. Smith stared at him for a while, sadness overwhelmed her. "Are you a bat?" she asked, tears rolling down her face.
"Do I look like a bat to you?" he snapped, his retort was swift and his face, reddening with annoyance.
Mrs. Smith stood up, her eyes welling up with tears. "I don't know what's happening to you, Mike," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.
Mike lay down on the bed, his eyes still shut, his mind reeling with unanswered questions. Mrs. Smith couldn't control her emotions, she turned and scurried out of the room, leaving Mike alone with his thoughts.
With tears streaming down his face, Mike opened his eyes, determined to face whatever lay ahead. The light was blinding, like staring into the sun at its brightest, but he refused to close his eyes. He was resolute in his decision, willing to endure the pain if it meant finding a way to overcome his newfound sensitivity to light.
"If opening my eyes is going to blind me forever, then so be it," he thought to himself. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life day-blind like a bat!"
With a newfound sense of determination, Mike stepped down from the bed, his eyes still open despite the searing pain. And suddenly, he felt something break in his eyes, like a dam had burst, and a throbbing pain began to circulate in his head. The indistinct chattering in his ears grew louder, and he covered them, wincing in agony.
But as the pain slowly began to subside, Mike uncovered his ears and listened intently. The chattering grew clearer, and he recognized familiar voices - Dr. Tom and his mother, Mrs. Smith.
"I'm happy you figured it out yourself," Dr. Tom said. "It was hard for us to explain his situation in a way that wouldn't make you presume we're crazy."
"He clearly saw me last night in the dimly lit room," Mrs. Smith added, her voice laced with emotion. "But now he's sensitive to the light of day... this is getting insane."
Dr. Tom's voice came next. "Dr. Philip proposed an idea, which I'm quite sure..."
"Tell me what it is!" Mrs. Smith interrupted, her voice desperate. "I'm open to any idea and willing to do anything as long as my son won't go blind."
Dr. Tom hesitated before speaking. "He suggested an eye transplant. A donor is available, but in my own experience as a doctor, it's impossible."
Mike's heart skipped a beat as he listened to the conversation. An eye transplant? Was that even possible? He felt a glimmer of hope, but it was quickly extinguished by Dr. Tom's skepticism.
Mrs. Smith's frustration boiled over. "And why are you telling me this?!" she grumbled, her voice trembling with emotion. "Why get my hopes up if it's impossible? You shouldn't have said anything!"
Dr. Tom attempted to explain, his voice calm and soothing. "His cornea can be transplanted, but we're not sure of the results it will yield. We don't know if your son's vision would return afterwards."
Mrs. Smith's face crumpled, and she burst into tears, collapsing to the ground. "What am I going to do now? What should we do?" she wailed, her body shaking with sobs.
Dr. Tom knelt beside her, offering what little comfort he could. "Please give us more time, we'll come up with a solution. The medical teams are working relentlessly day and night to address his situation. Please be more patient, we'll surely come up with a solution to your son's blindness."
Mike, still lying on the bed, heard the conversation and broke down in tears. The throbbing pain in his head had slowly receded, replaced by a sense of despair. But as he raised his head, he saw something that made his heart skip a beat.
In the mirror a few inches away, he saw the reflection of a strange figure with glowing eyes staring directly at him.
Not believing what he was seeing, Mike peered closer at the mirror, and the figure's eyes seemed to grow larger, more intense. His heartbeat increased as fear sent his pulse racing. He staggered back, falling to the ground.
"Who are you?" Mike asked, his voice shaking with fright.
The door creaked open, and a feminine voice echoed in. "Who are you talking to?"
Mike glanced at the nurse but said nothing, his eyes snapping back to the mirror. But there was no one there, except his own reflection.
"Are you okay? Why are you on the ground?" the nurse asked again, her tone conveying her worries.
"Oh, I'm fine, you can leave," Mike replied and waved his hand frantically, gesturing for the nurse to leave.
As the nurse departed, Mike's mind raced with questions. "Wait... something is not right. Am I the one with glowing eyes? And earlier, I was able to hear distant conversations clearly. What's going on?"
And then, it hit him - a realization that made his heart soar. "OMG! My sight is back!"