Silent Night

Kael breathed heavily, gasping for air with each breath. His eyes were near tears, which he held back with all the anger and willpower he could muster.

With every step, his feet sank slightly into the warm sand. Despite the biting cold gnawing at his skin and the cool wind tugging at his clothes, the sand retained the day's warmth, offering a small comfort against the embrace of the night. The argument with his sister echoed in his mind, fueling his frustration, and propelling him further into the vast emptiness of the desert.

"How would she know… understand…" he murmured to himself, but his words were lost to the wind. Safiya had always been sharp-tongued. That was good for her, given that she would soon become an Al'Shalin. Kael knew she would rise high within their ranks. That was just the way his sister was.

But her unwavering belief in her faith made her unbearable. It seemed she always looked down on him.

"But she just knows everything, doesn't she? The perfect daughter, the perfect Al'Shalin apprentice. The storm should take her," Kael's thoughts were a turmoil of anger and resentment, a tumultuous chaos that drove him forward without care for his direction.

It was only when he climbed a dune and paused, panting from the run, that he realized how far he had gone. The village lay behind him as a cluster of faint lights. From atop the dune, he could see the glow of the eternal fire of the Sun Palace in the distance. Like a colossal lighthouse, it brightened the desert even as Atherion slept.

But he was not near the capital, nor was he near his village. Kael was in the middle of the desert. No human soul was nearby, just the vast nothingness of the desert.

He sat down, hugged his knees, and slowly let the anger seep out of him. The run had been good for his mental. Deep exhaustion set in, slowing his thoughts. Then he let himself fall into the sand.

As he calmed down, the harsh truths in Safiya's words emerged.

"She was right," he admitted, his voice swallowed by the vastness of the desert. He didn't know who he was. His purpose was blurred. All he did now was drift.

Kael despised this part of himself—the indecision, the fear of commitment, the feeling of being an imposter in his own life.

"Ridiculous," he whispered, the word heavier than the sand surrounding him.

How had his father felt in his youth? Kael knew he too had grown up with his own father largely absent. He had never met his grandfather; his father always said he had left them early.

What had driven his father back then? He had been a Sandspear, that much Kael knew. But how had he become one... and why? Was it luck? Was he simply more determined than his son? Or was it something entirely different?

Kael should have asked his father these questions earlier. But there were so many other things he wished they could have done together. Or with his mother. But she also had been destined to become an Al'Shalin early on, so she couldn't understand how he felt. He loved her dearly, and he knew she felt the same way about him.

That was probably true for his sister too, when she wasn't too busy inflating her head with hot air. But what did it all matter? His family could love him as much as they could, and he would always be grateful for them.

Yet, they had never shown him what he could become. No crafts were taught to him, no combat skills, they didn't even have expectations of him. In the capital, there were proper schools and academies for those who didn't directly take over their parents' profession, but that didn't exist out here. Here, you just followed in the footsteps of your parents. How was Kael supposed to do that?

How would he ever know where he belonged?

Should Kael also become a Sandspear like his father? But where would he get the necessary training, and was he even good enough, brave enough? He didn't know, couldn't assess it, and had no one who knew him well enough to help.

Kael vigorously rubbed his hands through his hair. All these unanswered questions made him exceedingly uneasy. Maybe he should just go work in the Qanats. They always needed workers. But then he really would be the laughing stock of the Adar family—two Al'Shalins, a former Sandspear, and a Qanat worker. Kael almost laughed at the thought.

No, he wouldn't just pick up the next best thing as his calling and purpose. If he was good at anything, it was delaying decisions... which wasn't exactly his best trait. At least then he wouldn't just be a complete failure, only indecisive, until he could find his way. And write his own story. Someday.

He stood up and looked out over the silent desert from atop the dune. How many stories must this sand have witnessed? How many stories had been lost in it? Was that Kael's destiny? Another lost story? Was this the path Atherion had envisioned for him?

Lost in his thoughts, Kael's gaze swept across the vastness of the desert. But then he paused, and his doubts and thoughts briefly faded.

Something stirred in the distance, a movement that seemed out of place in the stillness of the night. He blinked, straining to make out what it was, but the darkness rendered his efforts fruitless.

After a moment, however, thanks to the light of the sun palace, he discerned figures moving through the sand. There appeared to be five, all cloaked in black, hooded robes, which seemed very odd to Kael since the day's heated rays had long since dissipated.

All five moved oddly. Kael couldn't quite describe it, but since their legs were hidden under long robes, it looked as if the figures were gliding across the ground without actually walking.

They were heading towards the eternal fire of the sun palace, towards the capital. They carried no goods with them, so they couldn't be traders. Definitely not Sandspears either, as those always wore their light combat gear that matched the desert colors, with a spear on their backs and a shortsword at their belts.

Could they be the Ramalkin? The binders of Talak, the divine beast? No, that seemed unlikely. A Ramalkin would be practically invisible in the desert.

But whoever they were, Kael suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Suddenly, one of the figures turned their hood in his direction. Kael gasped and had to suppress a sound, quickly ducking behind the dune.

He then cautiously peered over the ridge.

A shiver of unease crawled down his back, reminding him of the discomfort he had felt earlier with the ash. He watched the figures with bated breath, not daring to move a finger.

He blinked, looked again, but suddenly the desert before him was empty, the figures vanished as if they were mere illusions.

He looked around, his heart pounding, but there was nothing. Only sand and silence.

"Am I losing my mind?" he wondered, the anger from the argument now replaced by confusion and a sense of unreality.

He lay there for several more minutes, nervously watching the desert. He didn't know why he was so uneasy. They could have been just ordinary people. Probably. Hopefully.

But nothing happened, and everywhere he looked, there was only sand. Eventually, he gave up, but remained vigilant as he cautiously climbed down the dune. After this experience, he suddenly felt the urge to return home. Even if his sister was there, it was better than being out here alone with those figures.

Once at the bottom, Kael headed towards the village. He didn't run but walked carefully and alertly. But now that the fire of the Sun Palace was hidden behind the dune and no longer pierced the darkness, his eyes were on their own.

It remained quiet, as usual. But Kael could imagine nothing better than for this deafening silence to disappear. It contained nothing but paranoia.

But nothing happened. So, gradually, his nervousness subsided, and so did his vigilance.

That's why he wasn't prepared when he suddenly heard the voice in the night.

[Kael Adar]

Kael screamed and whirled around, stumbled, and fell on his backside in the sand. He quickly got up, not knowing where the voice came from, unable to see anything in the darkness.

Then he did the only thing that came to mind. He ran. His legs carried him quickly and his heart started hammering against his chest. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead and his head swung around, trying to spot someone or something out there in the night.

"Was that the figures—"

[KAEL ADAR!]

The voice boomed in the darkness again, and Kael abruptly stopped, nailed to the spot for a brief moment, got startled again, turned around once more, dropped to his knees, then leaped up and whirled around again.

But there was still nothing.

The voice was foreign, detached from the world around him, yet undeniably real. It sounded majestic, deep, and so profoundly compelling that it seemed to emanate directly inside Kael's own head.

Kael felt his heart constrict with fear, but his legs wanted to run, to flee as fast as they could. He was still alive, which was good. But where to? From what should he run from if he didn't even know where it was located? Or if there was anything at all?

Then the voice came again, the tone deep and quaking, its words so dreadful that Kael dared not breathe, let alone continue running.

[KILL YOURSELF]