As they approached the majestic twin spires that served as the entrance to the main city, a simple nod from Solman was enough for the guards to escort the group through the long line without even slowing their pace. They could feel the jealous gazes of those clumped together, pleading to pass the gates. Such were the privileges of those sponsored by the Church.

The myriad of soldiers forming a human wall made way for the siblings and their stern guardian, as if they were the city doors themselves. While he had grown accustomed to it, the stark transition never ceased to make him feel as though he had been transported to another world.

The decaying muddy alleys gave way to neatly tiled wide stone roads lined with rows of sturdy white buildings and an organized grid of streets. Here, the people looked healthier, their clothes finer, and even their lives seemed more carefree. Yet, as Kallen knew all too well, appearances could be deceiving. Mere gates couldn't possibly limit malice.

The plants on the roofs, the footbridges connecting the buildings, and the elaborate tapestries stretched above the most exposed streets protected against sun, wind, and rain. Living there was a dream of his, a place where he could lower his guard. Having run many errands around this commercial district and beyond, the young man had a naive understanding of the city's dark sides. But to him, that was enough. It was better than the maze.

"There we are."

With just a nod, the eldest prompted Solman to drop the herbs inside. After passing by two crossroads, they finally took a right turn to arrive at one of the many markets of the district, where their shop was situated.

Striga’s Wonders - Apothecary

The family’s pride. Kallen stared at the wooden store sign for a moment. He remembered these words being one of the first few he ever wrote, proud to show off the results of his writing classes in the church to his mother while she was watching him with the brightest smile.

“Alm~!” A black-haired young girl as tall as Kal came rushing in their direction and hugged his younger brother. Clutching his head in her arms, she continued.

“You’re not staying at the temple today?”

"Salma... Kara said Father Lark was busy today..." The eight-year-old replied awkwardly, turning his head away as if asking for help, unaccustomed to lying to her.

"And that's why you three will get busy in the back while I care for the clients. Mikhal, come here. I have the address list for you." Upon hearing his name from Kara, her two siblings finally noticed the slim, gloomy, redheaded boy seated on the bench against the shop’s wall. He got up, revealing his tall stature. Equipped with a large pouch slung from shoulder to hip, he calmly walked towards them.

“You got the easy job today Kal, try to not have too much fun without me.” And without even stopping in his tracks or even waiting for any kind of witty answer to his remark, he walked straight out of the market, list in hand. That was Mikhal, odd and distant. But everyone was used to it.

Sure…

The squeaking of the wooden floor, accompanied by the subtle smell of spice and herbs, felt like the kitchen they left back up the hills. Here, even as an outsider, it felt like home. The aromatic plants hanging from the roof, looking down on the exotic mixtures and flora exposed all over the walls, looked more like decorations than products.

Large enough to host ten clients at most, this room was mostly built out of old wood encased in this building of cold white stone. It had an organic charm that was rare to find. Now in his element, Kallen followed Salma as she dragged his younger brother behind her. They entered the backroom.

This dark space, only lit by keeping the door open and controlled growth of Moonlight Trumpets nested on walls and the ceiling, was where everything was stored and prepared. Ingredients, products, and books were meticulously arranged on tall wooden shelves and libraries. Helped by the church, his family sold all kinds of products and elixirs from the South for as long as he could remember. But the store lost in popularity when its so-called “witch” passed.

The limited space allowed only two people to work simultaneously. Lighting the fire under the cauldron and within the oven, the store was finally open as they prepared today's batch.

*** Sometime later, right before noon ***

The day had taken on a rhythm of its own. Kallen was on brewing duty while Salma was taking care of smaller orders sent to them. Alm, eager to learn the ropes, volunteered to carry the readied orders to the front. This seemingly small addition and the moderate flow of customers allowed them to have moments of rest.

With his arms worn out by his tiresome mixing efforts, Kal allowed himself a pause. Letting the fire dwindle down, he sat on one of the room's two stools. Leaning against a storage cabinet, he extended his legs and surrendered his arm to gravity as he breathed relief. He was much more comfortable using his lower limbs than anything else.

With his eyes now accustomed to the darkness, he could see the room in greater detail. Wary of Salma, as she usually nagged him whenever he worked at the store, his gaze naturally turned to her first. However, he was surprised to see her completely dedicated to her task, her green eyes focused on the herbs package she was making.

When she started working with them, her bossy personality used to irritate him, making him sometimes happy to always work outside. Seeing her diligent side take over was unsettling.

Highlighting her olive skin with an ethereal blue hue, glowing mushrooms sprouting out of the wall’s mushy stone brick pattern was now where his attention shifted. Many products in this room were averse to sunlight, and they were one of them. He could still see his mother collecting them carefully with a smile, humming the soothing melody from her hometown she used to serenade before he and his siblings went to sleep.

These were also her babies in another way. She delicately placed them in a glass jar, letting them rest until they lost their glow, and then they sat on the shelf over there.

That place.

On his left, right at the corner of the room was a tall wooden storage shelf with fragile ingredients and foreign books. However, only he and Kara knew its true purpose. Behind it stands an old black metallic door; the boy only saw it once.

When he was as old as Alm, he climbed the shelf, curious about how the luminous fungi would taste like, causing it to fall over him.

Alerted by the sound, his mother rushed into the room, only to find her son surrounded by books, wood debris, and broken glass. She quickly tended to her child as blood began to trickle down from his forehead. Applying pressure on the wound with a piece of cloth hanging around, she urged Kara to bring the ointments exposed at the front. After briefly asking if he was alright, the moment his eyes turned to this door that wasn’t there a minute ago, her teary smile of relief turned into darkness he had never seen in anyone to this day.

“Kallen, whatever you do, don’t get near this door. Never. Let’s forget about it, okay? Listen to your mom. Please, don’t open it.”

In normal circumstances, his nature would have pushed him to investigate further behind her back to satisfy his curiosity. But not this time. Her expression was something he had never seen. She spoke words of care, but her amber eyes felt like they were the same color as the liquid tainting the cloth. She was trying to scare him, he could tell, but over everything, she looked terrified too. He never knew what was dreadful enough to force her into a state that could even justify the witchcraft accusations.

But the fact that even she, the strong woman who was cold and fierce to anyone but them, could break down in this manner was enough to freeze him solid when she tightly hugged him right after. Even today, he subconsciously avoids this corner of the room.

“Listen, I know the shop can be boring around this time, but you could at least help me, you know?” Pulling him out of this painful memory, Salma finally turned her attention to Kallen, who she had caught scratching the vertical scar carved on his forehead.

“It's usually quiet with Mikhal but I wasn’t expecting it coming from you.” She continued, leaving her package on the table, finally sitting on the stool that was behind her.

“...A guy I knew died last night. He turned. The Cloaks got him.” Replied Kal.

“I’m…really sorry to hear that. May he rest in the Tree’s embrace.”

“Woah…I know priests love to preach around here, but I never knew you turned religious.”

“Haha… I’m just practicing. If I start to act like them, maybe mom will finally keep me out of the brothel.” She said as she bitterly chuckled.

“Miss Marsa hates the church?”

“No, at times, even a few priests sneak in. I just want her to know I don’t want to stay around. Everything about that place disgusts me.”

“Her place is popular, you guys make a ton of money. You’re sure you'd rather stay here?”

“Money isn’t everything Kal.”

“If you say so, city girl.”

He knew she hated it whenever he said that. While she was probably aware it was merely banter, she was one of those who gets embarrassed easily. And Kallen’s playful demeanor irritated her even more.

“I know what you’re doing. It won’t work.” She said with a frown drawn on her face.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You tease people when you’re worked up. What’s going on?”

Kal suddenly gets tensed by the surprising perceptivity of a girl he had known to be self-absorbed until that point.

“Nothing. It was just a joke Salma, I do that to people all the time.”

“Don’t act like you got many friends besides me. I know you even better than Alm do.”

“Just because I’m a maze rat doesn't mean that I don’t have frie—”

“KAL!”

Her violent interruption cracked the defensive shell he had built up until then. The usually nonchalant boy couldn't help but let his anxious frustration spurt out for a moment.

“Stop prying! Maybe I should listen to your mother when she orders from us just to convince me to bring you back.”

“You’re such a..!”

“I’m going out, Mikhal should be back with some firewood...”

He expressly exited the room, slightly regretting the words that came out of his mouth. As he traversed the door to reach the front shop empty of clients, he saw his sister leaning on the counter. With just a glance, he knew she heard the whole conversation.

“I wasn’t expecting you guys to argue like that. I even kept Alm out of there to give you guys some alone time.”

“Stop it! I’ll wait for Mikhal outside.” Replied Kallen. Coldly.

“Got it. But it’s okay, you know? We only truly argue with those who matter.”

“I hope the curse gets you!” Salma’s voice resounded from the backroom, cutting off their conversation. But unbeknownst to her, what was an innocent outburst of anger reached the siblings in ways that she couldn't possibly grasp.

“SALMA!” Kara hurled back, angrily. She then turned to Kallen with a softer voice. “She doesn’t mean it.”

“I do!” replied the young girl, just as angry.

“She does.” with a quick reply, the young man hurried out, wanting to clear his mind from the anxious atmosphere.

As he finally took his first breath outside, he was welcomed by the chill wind of early spring infiltrating his lungs. Too proud to return inside and pick up his cloak, he opted to endure the cold. Standing on his left was the tall and stoic Solman, guarding the place on the church’s behalf.

Oh…forgot about him…

Luckily, his fear of having to wait in silence next to this statue of a man was relieved as he noticed he was talking to a priest of the local temple. Turning on his right to sit on the bench next to the door, he finally noticed a shivering Alm wrapped in his oversized winter cape.

“Hey, you can go back in. I told Kara I would wait in your place.” Said the older brother, softly rubbing his sibling's head, trying to somehow comfort him in his suffering.

With just a nod, the cold-stricken boy hurried back inside without an ounce of hesitation.

As he leaned back against the stone wall to rest, its temperature forced him to bend forward, compelling him to stay alert, eavesdropping on the conversation taking place next to him.

“We know he won’t accept them, but Father Serkin sends his deepest apologies.”

“Our children are dying. We need support, not words.” Solman answered to the priest with a more animated tone than his usual coldness.

“The Lord asked for patience… the amount of marks is growing here too, and even if Naar-Aje took everyone in, the odds won’t change. For ten children sent, about eight will return as ashes”. The priest grabbed his pendant as if he were emitting his prayers to Solman. “We are undermanned, the city is too vast, please understand…”

These sentences alone were enough to send chills across Kallen’s spine. He was looking for relief outside but was met with a harsher reality instead.

He knew. Everyone knew. The Sealing Ceremony was more of a death sentence than salvation, but it was easier to forget about it. The words of encouragement and comfort from his siblings helped him build this shield of delusion and ego characteristic of a child his age. Thinking that he could escape reality until moonrise, the truth of his unreasonable expectations came back to haunt him when he expected it the least. His breathing started to accelerate as that one thing he questioned the existence of within Meryl came creeping in.

The fear of death.

Cold sweat started to drip from his forehead. He could almost taste the wind and the dust coming in and out of his mouth. He was trembling; only he knew it wasn’t due to the temperature. But even on the verge of panic, he couldn’t let it be known, he promised. He knew all too well how marked children were treated, especially those from Melhem. He dropped his head to face the ground, hiding his shaken face from the two church members, waiting for Mikhal to come and save him.

“Are the children of our believers not valuable enough? I expected it from the Lord but not from one of our own. Everything changed the moment he became House Rysoars’ puppet. Maybe even you, a child of the Tree, only see us as maze dwellers now.” Continued the shop’s guard.

"Watch your mouth, Solman!" The priest interjected, his voice strained with exhaustion. "We are all doing our best under these circumstances. We must have faith and pray for the Tree's mercy."

“Just pray? Father Lark prayed enough, we all prayed enough. It’s about actio—”

As he covered his ears with his hands, the conversation began to fade into nothingness, leaving Kallen a prisoner of his own mind. The voices, the breeze, and the sound of coins clinking, all went away to make place for utter silence. He could only feel one thing: his heart pounding as if it were about to escape from his chest.

I don’t want to die.

A buzzing noise invaded his mind, disturbing and distorting his train of thought. His sense of hearing was cut out, making this sound the loudest.

I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.

He closed his eyes, completely shutting himself out of the outside world. He thought about his mother, the melody she used to hum to him to sleep, his way to concentrate, his way to find peace. Slowly but surely, it started to take on the noise that crept inside.

I can’t die.

He was reaching stability.

I won’t die.

“Kallen… Are you crying?”

Opening his eyes to see a pair of long-used leather boots facing his, he instantly recognized it as Mikhal’s, freshly back from his morning deliveries. He quickly wiped his eyes to face him.

“No… got some pepper in the eyes, should have cleaned my hands.”

“So, you then decided to wipe it off with those same hands…” Replied Mikhal with his usual dry tone.

“...”

“...Let’s get inside. It’s heavy, all this.”

The fear was tempered by embarrassment. Placing his hands on his knees, he slowly got up as if he had been sitting there for hours. Too flustered to even glance at Solman and the priest who probably witnessed the scene, he promptly opened the door for Mikhal to go through and followed right after, head down.

Happy to come back to the warmth of the store, he was thinking of a way to keep his friend quiet as he sucked in the familiar scent of the shop. However, there was a slight change in odor. To his surprise, as he closed the door behind him, he was embraced by a feeling even warmer than the room as soon as he lifted his head. His siblings and his friends all stood around him.

“Happy Birthday, Kallen!”

He almost forgot. Actually, when Kal fell prey to anxiety and fear earlier, he did. On the counter was the basket covered with a cloth Mikhal was holding as he came back. Unable to identify it earlier with his senses numbed, he now recognized the smell he adored: apple pie. Stunned by the unexpected turn of events, the looming threat that rested on his backside could be relayed to the background for an hour or two.

“Sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, especially today.” Salma slowly walked towards him, hands behind her back, feeling apologetic. A slow nod from the still-surprised Kallen was enough for her to feel forgiven and continue.

“But admit it, you thought I forgot uh?”

“I was not expecting anyone to remember…” He replied.

“Your eyes… are you okay…?”

He quickly threw a menacing glare at Mikhal, witness to his breakdown. As a silent reply, the lanky young man broke character and smirked. They both knew what it meant.

“You owe me one.”

The birthday boy advanced towards the shop’s wooden counter, where, instead of goods and money, his favorite dessert was lying there. His sister was smiling, but her eyes were those of a worried woman. She didn't need Salma’s remark to notice tears had been shed. After all, she saw him cry since the day he was born.

But it wasn’t the time for sadness.

He barely managed to escape it and couldn't afford to go back to that state. The young man was at his limits. Any more and the hopeful delusion that has been protecting him until now would be completely shattered. He just wanted to forget.

“What's your wish Kal?” Asked an excited Alm, rejuvenated by the chimney’s fire.

“I’m not sure…”

He had a wish but was too scared to express it. He wanted so many things at the same time: stay with his family, their safety, force time to stop, survive. But tradition makes it so you only choose one, and the Tree may grant it to you this year around. Just like his mother, Kallen wasn’t much of a believer despite growing up among men of faith. But today, as hypocritical as it sounded, he was willing to ask for help from a higher power.

After a moment of hesitation, he joined his hands together, closing them onto each other with a tight grip; he was ready. The room followed his lead; Kara took care of the prayer.

“May the Tree heed our wishes and bestow its blessings upon us. One more year on your earth, one more year under your shade. May those who share your blood overcome the trials laid upon their path and become the voices and hands of your world. Grant this deserving child a wish, a sign that your essence is among us always.”

As everyone slowly opened their eyes, Kallen had already made his wish—something he wasn’t willing to reveal to anybody, including his siblings. He wasn't superstitious, but from what he knew, if this tradition stood the test of time, it was for a reason. What he wasn't aware of, however, was that this wish would come back to haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Hope you wished to change that temper of yours.” Said Salma as a joke right after a moment of silence.

Kal looked at her for a moment. Reminiscing his harsh world from earlier, he looked away, embarrassed by his unusual past behavior.

“...Shouldn’t have yelled at you… sorry.”

“What?” Replied Salma, pleasantly surprised as she smirked.

“You heard me.” Said the young man in a cold tone.

“Am I hearing things, or have I just heard him apologize?”

“I heard him too.” Said Alm, who already had a slice of pie in his hand.

“Alright, Salma. Don’t push it. I don’t want you guys yelling at each other again.” Kara interrupted the burgeoning argument with an amused attitude. She doubled down. “Take Milkhal, for example. Just enjoy the moment.”

Mikhal, seemingly focused on the food he brought to the shop, couldn't even hear his employer’s compliment.

“I was just so surprised. I thought the apologies were only reserved for you and Aunty Striga.” replied her apprentice, now slicing a piece of pie for herself.

“Ha, Maybe he did wish to fix his temper.”

As Kara continued the banter, the time offered by the midday march of the Cloaks, distracting potential clients, was used to celebrate her brother’s birthday. This hour of calm encapsulated multiple days of positive memories at once. Every sentence, moment, and even the taste and scent of his beloved birthday pie were now engraved in his memory forever. Striga’s Wonders were home to many core moments of his, and this was a new addition to the list. He needed this. He was looking for company as he was about to thread a path he would have to walk alone. For this, he was infinitely grateful.

As the market started to replenish itself, it was a sign that the little party reached its end. Everyone had to return to their occupation, and even if Kal immortalized this moment in his mind, time had to take its course. As he prepared to follow Alm and Salma to the backroom, he paused in front of the door, waiting for Mikhal to leave for his second delivery shift. Noticing that Kara had picked up on it, he stood silently, while she waited for him to speak. But since the young man kept his mouth shut, she was the one who opened the dialogue.

“What is it?”

“Nothing… Just wanted to say … thank you.”

*** Sometime Later, at moon rise ***

As the sky darkened, they were already back on Melhem’s hills. They closed the shop early; today was a special day, after all. Kallen parted ways with his friends with a smile as if he was about to see them again tomorrow morning. It felt better that way. Maybe a part of him still believed it was just another day. Solman went back to the church’s tower, somehow more avoidant than he usually was. It honestly wouldn’t be a surprise to Kal if the man connected the dots. But there was nothing to be scared of. It was already too late; that night was the night. Besides, he knew how to keep a secret.

Leading the group, as he stepped into the Hollow Tower, something alarmed Kal’s senses. It was hot, too hot for the ruins he spent his life in, especially around that time. The air was slowly getting warmer with every breath he took. On alert, he looked around with his eyes darting every corner of the place. All he could see was what he was already familiar with. The spiraling stone stairs that somehow managed to never crumble, the moss that was growing dangerously close to the well sitting at the center, and the missing sides of the building that allowed tonight's full moon to shine over the scene.

“…Why is it so hot all of a sudden?” Said the young man as he broke the silence they established on their way back.

“Hot? With this kind of wind? Are you okay…?” Replied Kara, surprised by her brother’s absurd interjection as they went up the stairs.

He couldn’t feel the wind. He couldn’t tell how chilly it was. It was all him. This realization made him slow down his pace. It wasn’t suffocating; in fact, it was like the fire was from within, powered by the very air that reached his lungs. He took a moment to understand. Without even noticing, his hand was already inside his shirt, scratching his lower back, scratching the mark.

A chill of dread ran through every part of his body. It was reacting. He, who was deemed to have good immunity by the witch herself, froze at the thought of kneeling to the curse just before potential salvation. It was growing.

Not now not now not now not now not now not now not now NOT THEM!

“Kal…I think someone’s inside...”

Alm’s small voice reached his ringing ears. Regaining his senses, he lifted his head to warn them of the incoming danger. However, he was surprised to see they had already reached their floor. The door to their home was right in front of him. Even more surprising, light was escaping through the gaps. Kara was already holding their younger brother’s hand in apprehension. Aren told them he would arrive right before midnight, yet they already had company—certainly the unwanted kind.

“Kara…Please…Don’t open it.”

End of Chapter