The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft glow that shimmered across the endless sea, painting the waves with pale light. I stood at the edge of our floating home, the salt breeze mingling with the scent of damp wood and the distant trace of wet earth. The sound of the water lapping against the hull was familiar, soothing even, but tonight it only reminded me of how much I longed for something more.
Something different.
I ran my hand through my knotted dreads, feeling the familiar pulse of moonlight through my veins. The Glow, as they called it, had been with me for as long as I could remember, thrumming beneath my skin, a constant companion. Channeling its power had become second nature, as effortless as breathing. But tonight, the glow felt less like a gift and more like a curse—an ever-present reminder of the expectations others placed upon me.
The Neros revered the sea. We lived by its rhythms, its constant ebb and flow, and I had always felt at peace with it. But that peace had grown distant, strained over the years. It wasn't the sea I feared now—it was the way others looked at me. The fear in their eyes, the reverence that bordered on worship, weighed heavy. They didn't see me as Rami anymore. They saw the Glow, the power I didn't ask for.
I wasn't always like this.
I had been born blind—a rarity among the Neros, who were known for their heightened senses and sharp instincts. My blindness had once been seen as a blessing, a strange omen from the sea and the moon. The elders spoke of it often: how, even without sight, my eyes glowed with a soft, pale light, like the moon over the water at dusk. It was a sign, they said, a gift from the gods. But it wasn't a gift I could ever truly appreciate, not in the way they did.
I learned to navigate the world through touch, sound, and scent. The vibrations in the air guided me more than my sight ever could. It made me different, yes, but it also made me part of something larger than myself. Or so I thought.
Then, on my fourth birthday, everything changed.
The moonlight descended in a burst of silvery radiance, brighter than I had ever felt before. It struck me, and in that instant, I could see. But more than that, I could feel the power surge through me—power that went beyond sight. My senses were sharper, my connection to the water, the moon, deepened in a way that made me unlike anyone else. I wasn't just the blind child anymore. I had become something else entirely.
The Glow was no longer a blessing; it was a mark of distinction. It set me apart from everyone else, from my parents, from my people. And soon, it made me a thing to be feared.
The elders spoke in hushed tones, calling it the Glow—power that resonated with the very moon itself. The most elite warriors in our tribe, my parents included, had never seen anything like it. They were revered for their strength and skill, but my power was something beyond what they could comprehend. It made them proud but also anxious.
The Neros were a peaceful people, devoted to the sea, and we had only a small, elite force of warriors to defend us when necessary. My parents had hoped for a child who could carry on their legacy as warriors. But when I was born blind, they were unsure what to think.
Then came the Glow.
From that moment on, my life was not my own. I was the child everyone whispered about—the one who could see, the one who wielded a power that set me apart. It was as if I had been chosen by the gods themselves. And while they revered me, they also feared me. I wasn't allowed to be just Rami. I was the one with the Glow, the one with the power.
I wasn't a person anymore. I was a force.
The elders treated me like a living deity, a symbol of the moon's power. The other villagers didn't know how to react—they looked at me with a mixture of awe and fear, as though I were something to be controlled, something to be managed. But I didn't want to be that. I didn't want to be a weapon, a living symbol. I wanted to be me.
As I grew, the weight of their expectations pressed down harder. I couldn't walk through the village without feeling their eyes on me—wide, uncertain, afraid. I had become a weapon, not a person. The more I embraced my abilities, the more I felt the walls closing in around me.
And so, I stood here, at the edge of our floating city, staring into the endless expanse of the sea. The quiet hum of the ship, the distant calls of birds—nothing seemed to calm me tonight. The weight of my power felt heavier than the sea itself.
Hours passed, the soft pulse of the moonlight against the water a reminder of everything I had been and everything I was expected to become.
Then, I heard her voice.
"Rami?"
It was Nera, the leader of the Neros—my queen, my mentor. Her voice was soft yet commanding, a sound that always seemed to bring a sense of calm. Her footsteps were almost silent, but there was no mistaking her presence. She was warm, maternal in a way that made her seem both ancient and ageless. She was the closest thing I had to a mother, though she was much more than that.
I turned slowly to face her. The moonlight caught in her dark hair, her expression unreadable but full of understanding. She had always seen me in ways others couldn't, or wouldn't. And despite the weight of my power, Nera never feared me. Not in the way others did.
"I didn't mean to startle you," she said, stepping closer. "You've been out here for a while now."
I didn't know how to respond. I didn't even know if I could put my thoughts into words. But Nera didn't need me to speak. She knew. She always did.
"You're thinking of leaving, aren't you?" Her words cut through the silence, and I stiffened, caught off guard by her insight. But it wasn't condemnation in her voice—it was understanding.
I didn't answer right away. Instead, I looked down at my hands, at the faintly glowing veins beneath my skin. The power that had shaped my life. The power I never asked for. The power that had made me someone else.
"I think I have to," I finally said, my voice a whisper.
Nera didn't look surprised. She only nodded, her gaze fixed on me with quiet sympathy. "I can see that. You've carried the weight of your power for so long, but more than that, you've carried the weight of others' expectations."
I turned to face her, my heart pounding. "They don't understand me. They never have. They see the Glow, the power, and they want me to be what they think I should be."
"I know," she said softly. "I've watched you grow up, Rami. Everyone treated you like a gift, but gifts like that carry burdens no one can prepare for."
I swallowed hard, the familiar ache in my chest returning. "I don't want to be a weapon. I don't want to be feared anymore. I want to know who I am without all of this." I gestured to the glowing veins beneath my skin. "Without this power that feels more like a curse."
Nera's eyes softened, a flicker of sadness crossing her face before it was replaced by warmth. She placed a hand on my shoulder, steady and sure. "You've never been just your power, Rami. You've always been more than that. I've seen it since you were a child. Your kindness, your heart that wants to heal, not hurt. But I understand the need to leave, to search for something more. You've carried this burden for so long. You deserve peace."
I closed my eyes, feeling something like relief spread through me. "But if I leave… What if I don't find what I'm looking for?"
"Then you return," Nera said gently, her voice unwavering. "You will always have a place here, among the Neros. No matter where you go, you'll always have a home with us."
The weight in my chest loosened a little, and I nodded slowly. I had never considered that. I had been so focused on escaping, on running from my power, that I had never stopped to think about what I was running toward. But Nera had shown me something important: leaving didn't have to mean abandoning everything.
"You don't have to carry their expectations anymore, Rami," she continued. "You don't have to keep proving yourself. You are who you are, and that is enough."
For the first time in years, I felt the pressure lift. The fear that had clouded my heart began to clear. I had been living for everyone else, trying to be what they wanted me to be. But now, I understood that it was time to live for myself.
"I'm scared," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "But I know I have to do this. I need to find out who I am."
Nera smiled, her expression full of warmth. "It's okay to be scared, Rami. That means you're human. But you have the strength to face whatever comes next."
For a long time, we stood there in silence, the sea whispering beneath us, the moonlight spilling across the water in quiet waves. In that moment, I felt a peace I hadn't known in years—quiet, uncertain, but real. The weight of everything—the power, the expectations, the fear—was still there, but it didn't feel as suffocating. It was a part of me, yes, but not all of me.
"I'll miss you," I said softly, the words heavy in the still night.
Nera's smile was gentle, full of understanding. "And I you. But you must do this, Rami. You need to find your own path now, away from the shadows of what others expect. You've always had a strength inside you, one that no one can take away. You're ready."
Her words filled me with a warmth that I could feel deep in my bones. It was a warmth that had always been there in her, a quiet strength, a steadiness that reminded me that no matter where I went, I would never truly be alone.
"I won't forget this," I said, my voice steady now, filled with a new kind of resolve. "I won't forget the Neros. I'll carry our bond with me, no matter where I go."
"I know you will," Nera said, her voice full of pride. "And when you return, you will come as yourself—not as a weapon, or a symbol, but as Rami. And we will welcome you home."
I nodded, my heart swelling with a bittersweet gratitude. There was still so much I didn't know, so much I had yet to face. But for the first time, I felt like I had a chance to find out. To discover who I was, beyond the Glow, beyond the power that had defined me for so long.
With one final look at Nera, I turned toward the horizon. The path ahead was dark, uncertain, but it was mine to walk. The sea stretched out before me—vast, endless, like the possibilities that lay ahead.
The fear was still there, lurking in the back of my mind, but it no longer held me in place. I could move now, toward the unknown, toward the discovery of myself.
I stepped forward, each step a quiet declaration of freedom, of the choice to live for me.
And the sea, with all its endless mysteries, seemed to call me home—to the self I had yet to become.