Eyes half-lidded, Rokah immersed in a dream-like state. Trapped between the edge of reality and the drowsiness of consciousness. Repeating the same sceneries, the same incoherent fragmented memories for god knows how many times.

The momentum of vibrations enforced his loss between the archives of the past.

This time, like any other time, he dreamt about his younger self. It was kind of surreal, tantalizing. His younger self hair wasn't platinum white but a portion of the night sky in its darkest moment. His eyes weren't an odd color of an intense blue and pale gray but a dark brownish ocean, deep and mysterious.

The innocent kid that appeared to be five or six years didn't conceal his arm with a white bandage. The ink-black skin that denoted the bone eater was a simple birthmark, small, limited to the back of his hand.

A sound of trembling voice, old and heavy, carried a profound concern. On the verge of sobbing. Thin bony hands and fingers, wrinkles infested every inch of their unwell skin, cupped his little snow-white face.

"My dear little boy, it pains me leaving you alone, so young, so soon. I am going to leave you in a world where some will scorn you, some will use then throw you, and most will treat you worse than a scabbed dog, although you are the most precious thing I have."

This piece of incomplete memory didn't make much of a context, yet it instigated a torrent of anguish in his heart. The impact of separation, abandonment, death, all took meaning in those words.

Again, the scenery changed without notification.

This time, the young boy was older. He appeared twelve or thirteen years. Skinny, malnourished. He wore ragged clothes, cuts of different ages spread over his face and exposed parts of his body. The skin of his right hand was completely black. A long, black lizard-like tail stretched behind him. A medium-length iron chain extended from his neck and strained him to a half-broken wall.

He was looking at someone as the braid of sunlight shunned from his face. His deep brownish eyes, indifferent, devoid of fear, projected resentment, outrage, and confrontation.

"How much do you want to be free?" Deep, calm voice. The shadow that veiled his face coaxed, forming irregular shapes. Sadly, he couldn't remember his face.

The momentum of the wagon he was riding halted. Rokah sensed a foreign breath nearing his face, his hand jerked in protective movement. Sweeping his eyelids open, the innocent picture of a child greeted his return to the actual world.

"Doctor… have you woken up?" A thick tenor that bombarded the eardrums, a man's voice.

"Yeah." Rokah quickly replied, preparing his ear for the second wave. Thankfully, it didn't come.

The innocent face belongs to a kid, a female, exactly ten years old. Despite her young age, Rokah discovered that she possessed the maturity of a senior.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Her tone, as naïve as a lamp. "You were crying,"

A finger trapped a small drop between his eyelashes, refusing to fall.

The young girl exclaimed, worried, "Are you, okay Doctor?" Eyes all concern.

Drawing a smile, a real smile, patting her head, a rare affectionate gesture from the bottom of his heart. "How is your mother? And your baby brother?"

"They are good, he is sleeping now after he ate." she jumped from her place. "I will prepare some water so you can wash."

The doctor didn't wait to wash; he made a visit to the wagon ahead. Both the woman who gave birth last night and the newborn health was satisfying. Performing a few clinical examinations. Repeating advice, over and over, a doctor's daily working habits. He took the tiny new life into his arms, meditation on its fragility, its weakness. Caressing its rosy cheeks merely using the tip of the index finger. He whispered near its ear: "Welcome to this harsh, hazardous, sorrowful, and unfair world, I assure you, you will definitely find moments that make you appreciate being born."

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The water was lukewarm. The spring sun has yet to win over the frigidity of winter.

Drizzles violated Rokah's pale skin. Naya, the little girl, enjoyed serving him, not able to diverge her eyes from him.

When she saw him for the first time, she thought he was an angel.

Wasn’t she right? Healers, who save people aren't they angels sent by God?

Last night, when her mother was saved from her difficult delivery. She followed Rokah and asked him if he was an angel.

He chuckled:" Angels do not exist."

Naya sulked and decided to not talk to him. Teasing her like a child was not acceptable. But her heart melted this morning when she saw him toss and turn, tears trapped under his white eyelashes.

Naya inclined that he wasn't an angel. Angels do not have nightmares or feel sad.

This man is just a normal person.

For a kid, she was expectedly observant, lively, and very curious: "Did you hurt your arm?" Noting the white covering. "It became wet. You should have removed it before you washed yourself."

Discarding her nosiness, Rokah stood. "Where is your father?"

***

"Good morning, doctor." A man with a large frame and equally bulky thew, "Last night was very hectic. You should have rested more."

Simias were a very special kind of creature, a subject of confusion and controversy. Because they were extremely similar to humans, some judged them to be a subspecies of humans. Others consider them Chimera's.

They were taller than an average human, physically more powerful, and resistant. Their hair was thick and dense. Sometimes it grew in the wrong places.

Rokah's most recent picture of a Simia was the butler he had taken vengeance on... days ago.

"Why do we stop here?"

Chimeras, Simias, and humans were the overwhelming majority that form the sapient species.

"It's a nice place to stop, besides women and children are tired."

Simia males will start savage wars to build and maintain a harem, they have a strong sexual drive.

Rokah recalled how had Seaben surrounded himself with young maids, the best girls in the village.

It was a riddle, this male in front of him accompanied only by two females and three children. His story must not be a simple one.

"Innyana's divinities are fighting each other. We don't have a choice except to dislodge at one of the big cities. At least there are rules over there."

"Innyana divinities?" Complete bewilderment traced the ignorance features on Rokah's face. To his underestimation of the Simia male, the latter was highly perceptive.

The fire smoke danced over the dry grass. The Simia male enforced the tiny sparks to turn into fire.

" This part of the Innyana range is ruled by divine beings. We call them Crocotta. In exchange for their protection, we offer them sacrifices and tributes. They communicate with us by sending alluring, gorgeous young women, so they could blind our judgment more."

"Really…?" Rokah exclaimed in hearing yet another version of maneuvering by predators of their prey.

"I never grow faith in power holders claims, however, look at my family… I had paid dearly when I didn't listen to them, to what the Crocotta wanted."

"What happened?"

" As she had warned us, the calamities broke, a lot of folks died. Those whom they didn't follow her and fared north perished." The man called his daughter Naya, instructing her to bring water. One Simia woman approached the fire and arranged it properly.

Rokah's thirst for secular knowledge hulled his prestigious mask. Curiosity chewed over his nerves, for he was oblivious to the way of the world, and for so long, was deceived.

He chased the man's broad back, playing him with delusional words, praising his vast awareness of matters of the mundane world. Solely to find out what he was missing over those months of being indoctrinated by Lady Savannah's lies.

"It's the same old story," the man said as he served water to his horses. "It gets repeated time and time, since eternity. They fight each other for glory and territory and we, the normal people, pay the price of their wars."

The weight of unknown facts, the agony of new realizations, earth-shattering when they rain in a flash. And somehow, also ecstatic to the point of delirium.

Rokah blocked up the scorching sun. The green envelope of trees is getting weaker. One eye was open and one was shut, gazing at the blue sky. How much he is going to find out when he will fulfill this strange, powerful urge to get to Babel?

"Tell me, doctor, why do you want to go to Babel?"

Naya was behind. Her innocent voice startled him.

"I feel like I will find my lost identity if I get there…" A sudden cognizance struck him awake as he recalled how far away he was from the camp.

His eyes stretched wide, his smooth porcelain skin tingled. His neck cracked when he tried to peep behind. "What are you doing here?" How could she have followed him without him noticing her presence?

The young girl held in her hand something Rokah recognized well the moment his vision fell on it.

" Why do you need this paper for?" Slowly and gradually, the girl's innocent voice transformed into a mature woman's tone. Seductive yet daunting.