Once Yuer reached the bookstore, he greeted the clerk and took the stairs to the third floor. According to the youth’s memories, this floor was usually the quietest and most deserted during morning candle-hours. In the note Sakina had slipped into Ivak’s room, Yuer had specifically instructed the Second Reznal to meet him here.

Yuer surveyed the tall, packed rows of darkwood shelves, his blue eyes seeking a certain figure. He had yet to glimpse them when his Alikana mark began to instantaneously throb against his skin. This familiar reaction ascertained his prior doubts. Ivak of Kersa was the reason for his mark’s previous flare-up. Yuer was curious as to why his mark would react to the older youth in this lifetime and for how long the reaction would last. Whatever it was, it had something to do with his newly acquired Echo and he needed get to the bottom of this.

He strode toward the last row of shelves on the far right of the room. The closer he drew to that area, the hotter his mark burned. Soon enough, Yuer could see the Second Reznal. His tall and dark-clad figure was slightly hunched over a book. His short black hair was combed backwards, leaving the damaged side of his face in full view. His thick dark eyebrows sat low over his silver eyes, giving people the impression that he was frowning even when he was not. His long, slightly crooked nose and downward-turned lips added to his stern countenance. The lack of facial hair however, lessened the natural solemnity of his features to some degree.

He seemed to have noticed Yuer’s presence because he looked up. His unique, silver gaze locked into the younger youth’s face.

Suddenly, reality shifted before Yuer’s very eyes. Black sand started to pour out from beneath Ivak, crowding his feet. The shelves behind the Reznal morphed into black silhouettes. The eerie shadows swayed and danced, hovering over the older youth. Ink, as black as night, seeped out of their hazy contours. It glided through the air and flew to the Reznal’s face, sinking into the twisted and ravaged edges of his ruined skin. The ink swirled and twitched across tortured flesh, imitating the shape of some long forgotten symbols. Black flecks, appeared one after another within Ivak’s silver eyes. They pulsated like living things, making Yuer’s skin crawl.

Countless dissonant voices began to frantically whisper over one another in Yuer’s head. They hissed and muttered the same thing over and over:

((Ours! This one is ours))

((Give him back to us!))

((Ours! This one is ours!))

Yuer clutched his madly thumping heart with a shaky hand. Pain exploded across every corner of his soul. The voices, mercilessly crowding his mind, tore at his consciousness. He gasped for breath but air seemed to elude his lungs. In the back of his mind, Yuer wondered if he was about to die for a second time.

A strong hand grabbed his arm and a low voice spoke to his ears, “Are you alright?”

At that hand’s touch, a sense of aching familiarity screamed through Yuer’s very bones. Something deep within him suddenly clicked into place. The voices immediately quieted down. Reality rearranged itself back to sanity and the nightmarish visions dissipated as if they had never taken place at all. Finally, he could breathe again.

Once he came back to himself, Yuer pushed away the hand on his arm and staggered backwards, instantly putting some distance between him and the Reznal. He struggled to catch his breath; his very being was still jarred by what had transpired. He could neither understand nor explain what he had just experienced. What was most unsettling to Yuer was this unfathomable feeling of brief yet bone-deep familiarity; as if he had seen this before, as if some part of him had intimately known Ivak of Kersa before. It simply did not make sense. The younger youth wondered if his third Echo was trying to eat away at his sanity.

Yuer took several deep breaths, trying to regain his composure. He swept his gaze across the room and found everything to be as it was before. No shadows, no black sand and mercifully, no voices. Eventually, he glanced at the Reznal. The latter looked perfectly normal. No black flecks swimming in his eyes and no swirling ink across his face. Somewhat reassured, Yuer at last found his voice, “T-thank you. I’m alright. I just had a sudden case of dizziness.”

Although what Ivak witnessed didn’t resemble a mere case of dizziness, the older youth chose not to pry. Instead, he retreated backwards until his back touched the shelves behind him. In a husky voice, he unassumingly inquired, “Are you looking for a book?”

For a moment, Yuer busied himself with rearranging his indigo robes. Once he felt that he was control of himself again, he answered, “No, I’m not here for books. I am the one who wrote you the note.”

Ivak’s previously unguarded demeanor suddenly shifted to wariness. The Reznal folded his arms across his chest and pinned his exotic gaze upon Yuer, “So, it is you.”

Yuer tucked a stray brown strand behind his ear and met Ivak’s gaze unwaveringly, “Not what you expected, I believe.”

Ivak responded, “No. I definitely did not expect a youth younger than myself to threaten me with knowledge of my meeting with the Tewekaga.”

Yuer chuckled lightly, looking to dispel his discomfort at losing control earlier, “Don’t take it to heart, your highness. My means are limited. You mingle with neither the Dasrari nor the common-born. How else could I make you meet me?”

At the mention of the Dasrari, Ivak’s eyes traveled down Yuer’s figure and paused momentarily at the sight of his sash, “From which Dasrari clan do you hail? I don’t believe we are acquainted.”

“No, we are not.” Not in this lifetime, Yuer wished to say. “I am Yuer Ayaseen, second born son of Naer Ayaseen, your sire’s Agriculture Chief Assistant.”

The Reznal’s gaze shifted slightly to the right, seemingly lost in thought. It didn’t take him long to realize who he was conversing with, “The Alikana-marked whom some still debate his existence?”

Light laughter tumbled out of Yuer’s lips, “Yes, that one specifically.”

A smile so faint it was barely visible painted itself across Ivak’s lips, “And to what do I owe the pleasure of meeting the Empire’s Exalted One? Political threats notwithstanding, of course.”

“I think it’s about time I explain myself, no?”

Ivak titled his head to the side, “I’m all ears, Exalted One.”

The younger youth disregarded the faint sarcasm in the Reznal’s voice and calmly elaborated, “As you know the harem Selection for you and your brothers’ official consorts is tomorrow. But since I am who I am the Law of the First disallows me of bonding anyone outside of your kin. My sire, being far too eager to sell me off, arranged it so that I am one of the candidates for this annual selection. The Alikana-marked are born once in every hundred summers which affords me the freedom of choosing my bonded instead of being chosen.”

Ivak tapped his calloused fingers on his folded arms, “And this concerns me because…?”

“Well, depending on how tomorrow’s banquet ends up, this might very well concern you.”

“How so?”

“I intend to choose you.”

Ivak’s fingers stilled. After a moment or two of dead silence, low laughter began to spill out of the Reznal’s mouth. He laughed for a while until he had to cover his quivering lips with a hand. His silver eyes which gleamed with mirth, betrayed his attempt at restraining himself.

Eventually, he managed to bite down the cackle that still wanted to break through his lips. He gave Yuer a slight dip of his head as he said, “My apologizes, Exalted One. It’s just that I never had the pleasure of hearing such an excellent joke.”

Yuer smirked, a crooked little smirk. “It’s nice to see you laugh, your highness. Alas, I hate to dampen your mirth. My ‘joke’ is no a joke at all.”

Ivak raised his brows in blatantly feigned perplexity, “Not a joke? Well, that explains why Jarak wouldn’t it find it funny in any way.”

The smaller youth insisted dryly, “No, he certainly wouldn’t. I have no desire to bond him and to tell you the truth; I have every intention of destroying him in every sense of the word.”

The sarcastic air about Ivak suddenly dissipated. The contours of his tall and firm body stiffened. His eyes which were once mirthful became narrowed, rigid and cold. “I’m not interested in whatever game you wish to play, Exalted One. You should look for a more suitable player elsewhere. I apologize but I have to leave you now.”

Ivak didn’t care to hear Yuer’s answer as he briskly brushed him by in his way out of the room, his dark cloak dragging behind him.

Yuer lifted up his chin as he spoke to Ivak’s retreating back, “Run away, your highness. Hurry and run away like you have done your entire life. Or better yet, just stand there and do nothing. Be the fool who stays put as he waits for the axe to fall upon his head.”

Ivak swung around with a jerk; nailing the younger youth with a stare so sharp it could cut through steel.

The younger youth glared right back, “What? Was I wrong? Or did that hit too close to home? Should I apologize now that I offended your little sensibilities? Maybe I should go ahead and mention your mother while I am at it.”

Before Yuer could blink, he found himself face to face with a seething Ivak, a mere hair width’s distance between their noses. The Reznal’s eyes were so close that Yuer could see the golden flecks swimming within them.

Despite Ivak’s intimidating frame, the younger youth held his ground, unyielding in his stance as he harshly whispered, “Should I pour more salt into your wounds, your highness? Would it then sting enough for you to wake up to your reality?”

Ivak hissed through painfully clenched jaws, “What do you want from me?”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Yuer retorted with a tone so pointed it jabbed the thin air between them with every utterance, “What do I want from you? I want you to live. I want you to survive so I can take advantage of you, so you can take advantage of me.”

Ivak chuckled but his chuckle was too hoarse and jagged to be merry, “What? Have I died and haven’t known it? And why would it matter to you what becomes of me?”

Yuer replied as if his jaws were sewn shut, “I can do this without you, I know I can. In actuality, I don’t need you. I could make use of Mayir’s impressionable nature and maternal clan. I could rely on Sinrad’s wit and diplomatic allies. It doesn’t have to be you. I can leave you to your own devices and not bat an eyelash at your eventual demise. I could do all and any of that.”

Ivak gruffly pressed, “So why don’t you?”

“Because I know in my heart, neither Mayir nor Sinrad would do. This life and death game in which I intend to take part cannot afford half-hearted players. I have to fight for my own survival and you---” Yuer thudded his fist against Ivak’s hard chest, “---have to fight for your people’s survival. Neither of us has a choice but to fight because if we don’t, I will lose my life and you will lose everything you cherish.”

The Reznal snorted, “And how would you know what I cherish? How would you know who my enemies are?”

“I know because your enemies are my enemies. The Rezna owes you a blood debt. The Malhada owes me a blood debt. Your brother wishes to make me his personal living paper-doll. Your sire’s consort wishes to strip you of your claim to Kersa. You’ve always known this, haven’t you? You already know her son has been scheming against you since you both came of age. I want you to understand that it won’t stop at this. He very much intends to deny you of everything; your fiefdom, your people and even the very Reznali blood that runs through your veins. As long as this pair of mother and son exists, neither you nor I could ever be safe.”

A moment passed then another followed. Dead silence blanketed the space between the Reznal and the Dasrari youth. What Ivak’s lips didn’t say, his burning gaze said in their stead. His pointed stare looked as if it yearned to pull the smaller youth apart and piece him back together.

Whatever those silver eyes intently sought to unravel, they must have found it because Ivak eventually retreated, pulling some distance between him and Yuer. The latter didn’t realize how tense he felt until a sigh he couldn’t hold back escaped his lips.

At last, Ivak broke the silence with a question, “And how do you propose we ‘fight’?”

“What do Mesrin warriors do when they are surrounded by beasts during their Trials?” demanded Yuer.

“They fight them to the death. Either they kill them or they are killed by them.”

Yuer’s blue eyes glinted with a hint of frost, “Exactly, only that in our case, we will be the ones doing the killing. We won’t do it with a dagger or a sword. That’s far too honorable for this pair of Nak’e and hatchling. We will do it one step at time. We will do it the dishonorable way; with unseen slow-acting poison.”

“It’s terrifying how such a sweet face like yours can hide such a vicious heart.” chuckled Ivak, something between derision and adulation clang to the sound.

Yuer slipped a hand through the loose strands of his hair, “Would you rather I was a vicious face with a sweet heart?”

Ivak laughed in genuine amusement, “And what would I do with a sweet heart? Will it help me avenge my mother or keep my land? I would rather have you as you are, lovely-looking with a touch of venom, just the perfect combination for our game of life and death as you previously said, or isn’t it so?”

Yuer bit down his lip, hesitating for a bit before admitting, “You are exactly as I expected you to be and yet not.”

Ivak raised an eyebrow, “Oh? And how did you expect me to be?”

Yuer pondered over what he was going to say, “Broody, solemn and silent.”

“And how do you find me now?”

“Well, the same minus the silent part with a dash of sarcasm and bitterness instead. Still, you are as stubborn and infuriating as any typical Kersasi. In this way, you are as exactly as I remember you.”

Ivak was about to speak when the words died in his mouth. His gaze snapped toward the youth who looked as if his mind was somewhere else, “Remember me? Have we met before?”

Yuer smiled; his smile a touch melancholic, “Yes we have, it was very brief and we didn’t talk so you don’t remember it.”

What Yuer was referring to was the day Ivak was dragged to the capital from Kersa after his title was revoked by Jarak’s decree. He was supposed to stand trial for the capital offense of initiating rebellion but Jarak had the Reznali arms parade him through the streets. Despite being hit, beaten and spat at through the entire journey from the capital’s gates to the palace, Ivak kept his head up and didn’t give any sign of weakness or pain. By the time he was brought to the dungeons; he was bleeding from his head to his toes, caked in filth and grime. It was difficult back then for Yuer to watch an innocent and proud young man be reduced to such a state.

As he glanced back at the Reznal before him, for an instance, the image of his then stoic and bleeding face overlapped with his current, younger one. Past and Present, present and future. The lines blurred for a moment in Yuer’s mind.

Refusing to wallow up in this pitfall of emotions, the smaller youth shook his head slightly hoping to ward off the melancholy. He didn’t notice Ivak’s eyes on him. The older youth watched every little display of emotion on Yuer’s face like he couldn’t afford to look elsewhere. He couldn’t help but feel intrigued by this Dasrari youth whom he would have never thought to meet.

The Reznal leaned back on the darkwood shelves as he broached, “There are some matters you have to clarify for me before I agree to bond you. You said that Jarak wishes to make you a paper-doll but how did you find out about his true nature? Most of Sema are so blinded by his genteel mask that no one would guess the narcissistic, self-serving scum he truly is. So, who told you? Also you said he owes you a blood debt, when did that happen? He might be mad but he is not stupid. Why would he offend the Alikana-marked?”

Yuer held Ivak’s gaze as he walked toward him. When he was about to collide into the Reznal, he bypassed him. He then began to slowly and meticulously brush his fingers across the many books on the darkwood shelves. Ivak’s eyes followed him.

“The Mahatir, bless her holy glory, came to me in a dream and warned me. In my dream, I was being eaten alive by a giant golden beast. He had eyes the color of ice. His thick and lustrous mane shimmered as if it was woven from the sun itself. He gorged on my flesh for what felt like summers and that’s how I knew; I can never bond the Malhada.”

Ivak turned his leaning head to Yuer, “And the blood debt?”

Yuer didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he took a book out and flipped through its many pages. Eventually he said, “Maybe one day after we bond, I will tell you.”

The Reznal straghitened his frame and shuffled closer to Yuer, his eyes fixed upon the cover of  the book in the smaller youth’s hand, “I haven’t said I will bond you yet.”

Yuer closed the book he was holding and placed in Ivak’s hand who took it readily. He offhandedly explained, “It is poetry, Sianqi poetry from the eastern regions of the Empire. It depicts some of the most well-known scenes in the Ancient Carnage.”

Ivak flipped few pages, “Interesting.”

Yuer turned to him, “And Ivak?”

“Hmm?” said the Reznal, eyes still on the Sianqi verses.

“Yes, you will.”

Ivak looked up, somewhat lost, “Yes, I will what?”

Yuer smiled; his smile a hint challenging, “Yes, you will bond me.”

Sianqi poetry long forgotten, Ivak demanded in a low and husky voice. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I will pledge myself to you right here, the Kersasi way.” declared Yuer.

He then touched a hand to his hair, pulling out the silver hairpin that kept his half-updo together. The freed, brown strands tumbled down his shoulders. He didn’t care to arrange them and went ahead to stab his palm with the sharp, dagger-like end of the pin. Instantly, blood started to ooze out of his self-inflected wound.

He extended his bleeding hand toward Ivak. In a solemn and grave voice, he vowed, “By the slumbering Rul and dead Kaana, by snow and by blood, I, Yuer Ayaseen, pledge myself to Ivak of Kersa. I shall never betray him. I shall never draw steel against him. If the day I break my oath shall come, may the three Evil Sisters: hunger, cold and death, claim my life.”

Ivak stared at the open, bleeding palm in front of him. Astonishment broke across his stern features. Those words the younger youth had just spurted kept ringing in his ears. That was a Kersasi vow, an ancient dead one that originated from a time before the rise of the Empire and even before the coming of Zaradate. Only very few Kersasi elderly remembered the wording of this lost oath. Ivak knew of it because he grew up on those old folks’ tales.

How did this Dasrari youth of the capital knew of it? Moreover, he didn’t say it carelessly. In fact, he seemed to realize the weight of this oath. This was an eternal pledge, typically sworn by ancient Kersasi warriors in the name of their newly appointed chieftains.

At the beginning Ivak though Jarak had sent Yuer to him as some sort of sadistic joke but Jarak would’ve never known of this oath. This was closely guarded Kersasi heritage. His people wouldn’t make such a thing known to outsiders. This meant the youth went out of his way to unearth this dead promise just so he could express how sincere he was. Coupled with his actions and words so far, it didn’t look like he was here because of any third parties.

Unbeknownst to Ivak, not only was Yuer taught by the best Reznali scholars during his past life as a future Rezna, he also knew a Kersasi. It was Ran’e, the tribute Kersasi concubine whom Ivak himself was coerced to send off to the capital under his sire’s decree. The free and bright youth couldn’t stand the stifling palace of the Malhada. He was often homesick and he took solace in talking to Yuer about Kersa. He regularly spoke to him of many things; like old rites, forgotten songs and dead gods. The Kersasi found a kindred spirit in Yuer who loved nothing more than to listen to those ancient and faraway tales. It was through Ran’e’s stories that Yuer knew of this Kersasi oath buried within the vestiges of time.

However this knowledge, which Yuer had once thought of as inconsequential, proved itself to be quite useful.

Shortly after Yuer said the oath, the dark-haired Reznal unsheathed a dagger from his sash and applied a cut to his palm. He rested his bleeding palm against Yuer’s, mixing their bloods together. He gazed deeply into Yuer’s eyes as he recited the rest of the oath, “By the slumbering Rul and dead Kaana, by snow and by blood, I, Ivak of Kersa, accept Yuer Ayaseen’s pledge. I shall never betray him. I shall never draw steel against him. If the day I break my oath shall come, may the three Evil Sisters: hunger, cold and death, claim my life.”

Ivak clenched his larger hand around Yuer’s before letting go. He then ripped a piece from his dark tunic and offered it to the younger youth to stanch his bleeding. Yuer glanced down at the offered rag, then back at the Reznal. He bit down the smile that wanted to blossom upon his lips. He couldn’t help but find this display of typical Kersasi ardor amusing.

Ivak studied Yuer for a while, intrigued by that small, little smile fighting to break through his pleasant-looking face. A smirk surfaced upon the Reznal’s half-burnt face. He pushed the cloth closer to the younger youth and said, “Go ahead, and use it. We made an oath and bled together. By the rites of old Kersa, you and I are now stuck together. I’m not quite sure how long it would take you to regret this but this sort of thing cannot be undone. Now, you mustn’t say I haven’t told you.”

Yuer chuckled despite himself as he took the rag from the taller youth. He twisted it several times around his hand and then tore a piece of his own indigo-colored robes and gifted it to the Reznal. Ivak raised a thick, black eyebrow at the gesture but didn’t offer any cheeky commentary. Instead he took the piece of clothing that was offered and bandaged his own bleeding hand with it.

Yuer arranged his shoulder-length hair into a makeshift updo and used his silver hairpin to fix it into place. Ivak found himself watching every movement without realizing it.

Yuer said first, “There is yet another step to finalizing this alliance.”

Ivak raised a brow, “What? Do I have to dive into Grief Ocean and bring you a black pearl? Or do I have to roam Na’bia for the elusive Fa’jar flower? Or maybe I have to----”

Yuer cut him off not so apologetically, “Tomorrow morning at the harem Selection, we will meet again. I will ask you one question and all you have to do is answer with a yes.”

Ivak inquired, “And that would be it?”

Yuer nodded, “Yes. That would be all you need to do.”

Ivak shifted his gaze downwards, looking at Yuer’s bandaged hand. “What will you dance for me?”

The younger youth’s lips lifted upward. His one dimple crinkled. “Tomorrow, you will know.”

Yuer gathered his cloak around himself then turned around and walked to the stairs. Before he left, he threw Ivak a final glance and said, “Have a good day, your highness. Stay safe.”

Ivak leaned back on the shelves and stayed there for a while, even long after Yuer left. He gazed in silence at his cloth-wrapped hand; his thoughts wandering everywhere and nowhere. The one image that remained imprinted in his mind was those blue eyes that shimmered like the surface of bottomless ocean water.