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KALON
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Chapter Sixty-Two: Kanak Shula
Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant
Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation
Solar System: D-447
Planet: Ora
Location: Daska City, Inner city, Inner Clan Assembly Hall
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My eyes trace the words written upon the pages as my mouth speaks them to Luna. The Ulima, Riza, she is fourteen now in the journal and says she has fallen in love, despite the hardships she faces. Bitterness swells in my chest thinking of Nevari, a wound in me that is still fresh. My heart pangs higher as I read that the boy has fallen in battle. It is becoming harder to read the pages, not just because of the smudges of ink, but because there is so much despair, the girl who once brimmed with hope and compassion has become lost.
“So much pain,” Luna says, her voice distant “How can one person bear such losses? To be sold by those she trusts, to lose those she loves, to find love once more and have it torn away… I do not think I could bear such a life.”
My heart hangs heavy on her words, there is much between the girl in these pages that I can relate to. Each feeling she describes I have felt firsthand. It makes me raw inside as I relive it through her perspective.
“She is strong,” I say weakly. Almost not having the will to continue, looking at Luna, I know she feels the same.
“Do not stop.” Luna says after a time, clenching her jaw “We should honor her by reading what is written.”
My jaw flexes, she is right. Mustering the resolve, I begin reading again. The girl Riza goes on to describe in detail how the City Chief requested a city move, because the bounty of the land was no longer providing. The Masters sent more Bipki a few days later. She says that the Arasha merchant had warned her to hide, telling her that she would find her. Though she has little hope she will. She speaks of something else now, my mouth reads the words twice… Kanak Shula.
“Kanak Shula?” Luna asks me, her face shows concern and confusion.
Her pronunciation was not as bad this time, I had not realized that I read the word in the old tongue to her. It caught me off guard.
“It means, the cleansing,” I say, my eyes reread it again to make sure I did not read it wrong.
“What is the cleansing?” she asks me.
“I do not know of what she speaks.” I say, turning to the next page “Though when my people say it, usually they mean, to cleanse with death.”
As I read further, she goes on now to write of more changes in the city. Saying that the City Chief said the city move was denied. Their mines were overrun with Shulka and they had lost favor with the masters for not meeting the quota for more than one season. She speaks of famine and infighting. War without end. She speaks of even more Bipki being sent.
“What does Bipki mean?” Luna asks me, holding her knees in her arms as she stares up at me, her eyes puffy from crying until tears no longer fell.
“Demon’s eye.” I say, looking up at her “It is our word for your people’s floating drones.”
“Sentries?” she asks, but I have not heard them called like that before.
“They have red lenses, they are spherical and have spikes coming from them,” I say.
She nods and says “We call them sentry drones. Why do you think there was an increase in the number?”
Shrugging, I continue reading aloud again, it speaks of her going to a special place to hide and wait for the Arasha woman. My hand flips to the next page, and my heart aches, my stomach churning as I see that it is blank. Desperately, I move my hand through the remaining pages, all of them are blank. My legs buckle as I sit on the bed. Thinking about what I have read. Thinking on her fate, thinking on what it means. I have never heard of the Masters refusing a city move, what is this cleansing she spoke of? Is that where all the people went? Where did they take them? Why would they abandon an entire city?
“Why did you stop?” Luna asks me, standing up and sitting next to me now.
Passing her the journal, I put my head in my hands. Running my fingers through my hair. I need to know what happened to the little girl from the pages. I must know her fate.
“Where is the rest?” Luna asks, but her tone tells me she knows but does not want to believe it.
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Standing now, the overwhelming need to know fills me, the need to hope that she survived flows over me. So much that it takes control of my senses. My hand grabs back the journal, looking for the passage that she described where she was to hide and wait for the Arasha woman.
“Where are you going?” Luna asks me as I move from the room.
Words do not find my tongue as I unbolt the door and Luna opens it, both of us leaving in search of hope against the despair that sinks deep into our chests.
***
Hours have passed since I read the final words of the journal, having now walked countless corridors near where she described. I know it is around here somewhere. It must be. When I come upon a pipe with scorch marks around it, I feel the pain rising in my throat.
The edges of the pipe are seared, as though someone has welded it closed with an energy weapon. My hands drag at the pipe’s cover, I must know… With all my might, I pull. But it is held firmly. Luna comes to my side now, putting a hand on my shoulder. Her face is hung low, I can tell she does not wish to see what lies beyond, but I must know, the little girl who dreamed of real flowers, I must know her fate.
“I am not strong enough,” I say, turning to look upon her, my eyes pleading what my mouth does not.
Her face tightens as she nods, gripping the side with me. The metal groans as she pulls back the metal housing of the pipe. Luna gasps and turns from the sight, sinking to her knees and holding her face.
Sadness and grief rip at my heart as I see a blood-soaked cloak wrapping a withered body. The traces of hope that dared to spur in me are ripped from my chest as I notice long hair. Laying her down, my eyes see the shriveled remains of a woman, not a girl. Her clothes are like those that the Arasha wear, they bear the mark of an energy weapon fired into her back. She had come back to find her as she promised, to free her, but was stopped. Looking around, I see a broken blade lying on the ground, in the style of my people.
My hand grips my chest as my heart feels the weight of what my eyes have seen. The girl is probably dead. I will never find her. She was so young, too young. She suffered so much… only to die like this. Stripped of all hope, made to suffer even in her death. There is no justice in this. No compassion. She did not deserve this.
My eyes feel heavy as I cradle the Arasha woman in my arms, painful sorrow swells so deep I do not know if my heart can bear it. Who has wrought such a thing? Anger spills into my veins mixing with the sorrow. Creating a mixing of emotions inside of me. What was her crime? Why did such a bright light need to be extinguished?
The girl had a dream to hold a flower someday. A dream, a hope, never fulfilled. Was it so much to ask? Did she dream too great? Is that her crime? I want to yell, I want to scream. I want to kill whoever did this to her, there is no release. Pain fills my bones as liquid swells in my eyes.
For this little girl, I will bear the shame of letting them fall. This much I can do for her. My hands twist cords of cloth into the shape of flower petals as I make for her a tomb of false flowers. Laying them next to the Arasha woman who showed her kindness and died for it. I will never find her body among those who are dead, but I can honor her still by honoring the woman. Would that I could make the flowers real. Would that I could have taken her to a field of flowers, would that I…
Luna kneels down beside me, her eyes dripping with grief as she folds flowers from the cloth with me. There is compassion in her. I wonder if the rest of the Masters feel as she does. My jaw flexes at the thought of them, if they allow such things to happen, then how could they?
When we finish, I think long about the woman who died for this lost child. It reminds me of my mother, had the Sage not saved me, I would be like this girl. How many others have died as she has died? Without justice, with their hopes and dreams unfulfilled.
Luna looks at me and then to the blood, she places her hands together in front of her, lowering her head. This must be how the Masters pray. If only the other Masters were like her. If only there were not so many tragedies wrought on those who do not deserve it.
My hand clenches as the tears fall. There is no release, this pain continues to well inside of me, I do not know how to take such a thing. Reading her words, her hopes and dreams her joys and sorrows. It changed me, she changed me. Grief swells in me, threatening to explode when I feel warmth wrapping my body. My eyes turn and I see Luna clutching me tightly. She pulls me in, crying into my shoulder, weeping for a girl she never knew, shedding tears for someone that others believe beneath them. My hands slowly rise and embrace her back, tears rolling down more steadily from my own eyes, dotting her shoulder as I clutch her back. What is this feeling? Relief, from the pain, I feel relief sharing it with her.
It is strange this feeling. It cuts past the pain and sorrow. Telling me there is still hope, even in all of this darkness. Even the Maka in the air resonates with us now. I feel it swirling, as though it weeps with us. There is comfort in it I realize. Comfort in her embrace and the shedding of pain together. After a time, I pull away from her. I do not want to forget what happened to this girl, she did not have comfort in her final moments, nor should I in these moments. I am about to stand when I see something glinting near the Arasha woman’s head.
Holding the object now, it is small in my hand, rolling it over, I see it is a plasma cartridge, likely from the energy weapon that killed her. On the side of it is a serial number and a manufacturer's stamp. Roltok Industries. The despair that lingers begins to change into something else, something sinister, a feeling darker than the black box could hold. As I look at the cartridge, I feel the demon of wrath brewing inside my soul, writing chords to a song meant for my blade to sing to the dead. Did she put this here so someone might find it to give vengeance? Or is it chance that I found it? Regardless, I have heard her call from beyond the grave, and I will answer it, for this woman and for the girl who dreams of flowers no more.
Sliding it in my coat, I swear the sacred oath “Bata U’ton.”
My hands raise as my head lowers, cupped and facing skyward. In the manner that we Kuwathi give prayer to the gods. There is only one god which I will pray to, the one that my mother worshiped. The only one who I prayed to when my mother died, not for hope, but for vengeance. I did not beg them for myself. I hate the gods, all that they stand for, for allowing such things to pass. If they are real… they are the worst of all who deserve my wrath. For this little girl though, such a shame I will bear. This much I can still do for her.
“Amara, Goddess of Death, I ask you to guide these lost souls, so that they might find each other in the afterlife. I offer my body and my blood as tribute, take from me what you wish.” I say, taking my blade and sliding it across my hand, the blood drips to the floor, pattering in the frosted dust.
A cold chill fills the air as the last droplet hangs suspended in time.