> "Just as life's journey unfolds, memories form a mosaic, each piece contributing to the whole. It's only at the journey's end that the full picture emerges, revealing even the darker memories as essential shading. Similarly, the pattern of one's Ignition is like a tapestry, gradually revealing itself in stages. It's when one overcomes extreme adversity that the final pieces fall into place, providing the missing hues and completing the intricate design."
>
> Al-Kahen- Zizzah Farami “Burning of an Era” Year 134 of Burning
In the jungle's tangled embrace, Akim faced the epitome of primal strength and grace: a sleek, obsidian-hued panther. Its muscles were coiled like steel springs, eyes gleaming with ancient wisdom from countless hunts beneath the verdant canopy.
Determined, Akim launched forward, his blade flashing in the dappled sunlight. His heart pounded, adrenaline surging as he aimed a swift strike at the panther's flank.
But before his blade could find its mark, the panther moved with lightning speed, a blur of ebony fur and flashing claws. Reacting on pure instinct, Akim dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the lethal swipe of the creature's razor-sharp talons. His heart thundered, thoughts of the upcoming battle fueling his every move.
Akim, senses heightened, reacted with lightning speed, his body moving with agility born of desperation. He dodged and parried, his blade flashing in the dim light as he fought to stay one step ahead of the relentless predator.
But Akim found himself outmatched at every turn. The panther's movements were a blur of fluid grace, its attacks coming with such speed and precision that Akim could barely keep up. With each passing moment, his strength waned, his limbs heavy with exhaustion.
"You have a death wish, pup?"
The voice behind Akim made him jump, his heart racing. He swung his knife wildly, slicing through empty air. Spinning around, he momentarily forgot the panther, his breath catching in his throat as he faced a tall man standing right behind him, smirking. The man was almost as tall as Akim, wearing a tight-fitting sleeveless shirt that revealed chiseled biceps like iron.
A bead of sweat rolled down Akim's forehead as he gripped the hilt of his knife tighter, his knuckles white. His muscles tensed, ready for another strike, but the man remained still, his piercing gaze reflecting the flickering light filtering through the dense foliage above.
"Easy there, pup," the man said, his voice tinged with amusement. "No need for theatrics."
Akim eyed the stranger warily, his senses on high alert. "Who are you?" he demanded, defiance tinged with uncertainty.
The man chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to reverberate through the jungle. "Names are meaningless in a place like this," he replied cryptically. "You can call me whatever you like."
Akim hesitated, unsure how to proceed. Something about the man's demeanor put him strangely at ease as if he were an old friend rather than a potential threat. "Okay, I..." Akim began, a movement at the corner of his eye diverting his attention, his gaze moved from the man to the panther. The panther had calmly sat on its haunches and looked at the two with a tilt to his head as if listening intently.
"Don't worry about Eclipse pup, unless you really want to die in infancy and go ahead and do something stupid."
Akim's brow furrowed in confusion. He had never encountered anyone like this man before, and his presence only added to the stage circumstances he found himself in. "What do you want?" Akim asked, his voice edged with suspicion.
The man's smirk widened into a grin, revealing a row of gleaming white teeth. "I could ask you the same thing," he said, his gaze flicking to the panther crouched nearby. "What brings you to the heart of the jungle, pup?"
'Why do you keep calling me that? do I look like a child to you?" indignation escaped Akim's lips before he could grab his tongue.
"Only a pup would pick a fight without knowing the difference between a tantrum and defiance," the man replied, sarcasm heavy in his voice.
The man's words stung Akim like a slap in the face, a bitter reminder of the truth. He bristled at the implication, his jaw clenched in frustration. "I'm not a pup," he retorted, his voice strained with indignation. "I can handle myself just fine."
The man's smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Of course, you can," he said, his tone that of a parent humoring a child. "Because charging headfirst into a fight with that is the epitome of wisdom, isn't it?" he remarked gesturing towards the panther, "Eclipse would have shredded you with a single strike".
Akim's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, his pride wounded by the man's mockery. He knew he had acted recklessly, driven by fear and desperation, but refusing to admit defeat he retorted back. "I didn't come here to be insulted," he shot back. "Tell me who you are and what do you want from me?"
The man's expression softened slightly, a flicker of something resembling sympathy crossing his features. "Looking for answers, are you?" he mused, his gaze drifting to the dense foliage surrounding them. "Courting death won't give you the answers you're looking for, pup."
Akim bristled at the term once more, but he held his tongue, swallowing his pride in favor of listening to what the man had to say.
"Is that actual wisdom I see you display for the first time?" the man asked, eyes gleaming with mischief. " I guess there is some hope for you, yet".
"Come, let's talk", and with that, the man simply turned about and started walking to the edge of the clearing.
Akim hesitated, uncertainty gnawing at his resolve. He didn't know this man, and didn't trust him, but something in his gut told him that he was his best chance of getting some answers to the long list of growing questions.
With a resigned sigh, Akim nodded, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. "Lead the way," he said, his voice steady despite the tumult of emotions raging within him.
He glanced back at the panther, still wary of its presence, but found it had lost interest in him, laying its head on its paws and closing its eyes.
As Akim followed the enigmatic man through the dense jungle underbrush, the forest's cacophony seemed to fade. The narrow, winding path was barely visible beneath fallen leaves and creeping vines. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying foliage. With each step, the jungle's grip loosened, the trees gradually thinning as they neared their destination.
The makeshift camp emerged from the twilight of the jungle, a study in survivalist efficiency. Lean-tos made from branches and broad leaves formed a semi-circle around a central clearing. A flickering fire pit cast dancing shadows, illuminating the camp with a warm, orange glow. Supplies were neatly stacked against the trunks of surrounding trees, and a small, clear stream trickled nearby, its water reflecting the first stars of the evening sky.
The man led Akim to a spot by the fire, gesturing for him to sit on a log that had been smoothed by countless visitors. The camp was deserted, save for the two of them, and there was a sense of calm that belied the earlier tension in the jungle.
Salaar's smirk softened into a half-smile as he surveyed the camp. "Welcome," he said, gesturing to the fire's warmth. "It's hidden and safe—two luxuries in these parts."
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Akim took a seat on the smoothed log, the fire's glow casting a comforting light in the encroaching darkness. He observed the strategic layout of the camp, the careful placement of supplies, and the clear sightlines through the trees. It was more than a mere resting place; it was a sanctuary, a bulwark against the untamed wilds that surrounded them.
As the chorus of nocturnal creatures rose with the night, Akim felt the day's tension ebb away, replaced by a cautious curiosity about the solitary man who called this slice of the jungle home.
"And where is here?" Akim asked.
The man’s eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief under the starlit sky. “Here,” he began, his voice taking on the rhythm of a well-rehearsed tale, “is the heart of the untamed world, the cradle of ancient secrets and forgotten truths. This place doesn’t have a name that any map could claim. It’s where the earth speaks, and the wise listen.”
He gestured broadly at the surrounding darkness, where the jungle thrummed with life. “It’s a sanctuary for those who respect its laws, a grave for the foolhardy. It’s where the past and present converge, where stories like yours—and mine—unfold.”
Akim absorbed the man’s words, feeling the weight of the jungle’s unseen eyes upon them. The camp, with its flickering flames and shadows, seemed to be a bastion of civilization in the midst of wild chaos.
“So, tell me,” the man continued, leaning closer, the firelight casting deep lines across his weathered face. “What brings you to this nexus of fate and fortune?”
Akim paused, where should he begin? how much should he explain to the man? can he trust this man? but he sensed that the answers he sought were woven into the very fabric of this place, hidden within the enigmatic smile of his unexpected guide.
"Before we go to my story, can you tell me who you are? ".
"I am Salaar Bikram, a direct descendant of Hakim Bikram, may the Burning guide his soul". The man, Salaar said solemnly, his tone tinged with reverence.
Salaar’s declaration hung in the air, a testament to the legacy that shaped him. Akim considered the weight of a name and the history it carried. Halar Bikram— it was a name declared in a way that commanded respect, even in the untamed wilds of the jungle.
"By your blank look, I assume you are unaware of my lineage." Salaar prodded.
Akim nodded slowly, his mind racing with questions, about Salaar, this place, Salaar’s ancestors, and what secrets they might have passed down through the generations. However he accepted that trust was a currency hard-earned in life, and his own story was currency he had to spend wisely.
“I’m Akim Saja’n,” he finally said, his voice steady despite the uncertainty flickering within him. “I’m here by some circumstances that I cannot explain. I am uncertain of where to start —I’m not sure where I am?, or how I got here, but before that, you mentioned this place as a nexus of some sort.”
"You seem to be forgetting something there.." Salaar pointed a finger to his eyes and moved them in a circle around them.
Akim remembered then that he was still wearing his makeshift blindfold. His hands moved to it on their own accord, his fingers moving along the rough uneven cuts he had made not long ago.
'yes, now how Do I explain this piece of information? oh yeah, I am blindfolded yet I can see, Surprise!'. Akim thought, a little bitterness seeping into his mood.
Salaar raised his hand as if to stop him, "Peace", he said, " I do not mean to insinuate anything other than the fact that I believe you already know what you are doing here."
“I ..,” Akim started, did he? ' I have no idea what I am doing here, and somehow this man, Salaar, seems to believe my blindfold is somehow related?' Also, he didn't seem surprised by it and took this in stride that I can see through it.'
"I see I was mistaken then." Salaar continued after the pause from Akim turned longer. He sighed, before continuing. " I had assumed, incorrectly it seems, that your sect sent you here for a trial."
'Sect? Trial?', confusion was writing lengthy volumes on Akim's face, and he only managed to enunciate "huh?" in the most elegant fashion that a frog could sing.
Salaar nodded, as if expecting this response. “I must admit, I am now intrigued.” He paused as if mentally aligning his next few responses. "Let me ask you this."
Salaar’s gaze lingered on the blindfold, then he scrutinized Akim before continuing. “The cloth you wear,” he began, his voice low, “it does not hinder your vision does it?"
Akim decided to nod, not trusting his voice to obey his commands if put to the task.
"Thought so. At least the candescent stages are still the same," Salaar murmured, almost too low for Akim to hear.
Akim's look of confusion was unmistakable. 'Now what in Burn's name is the can, Cadena, ca... whatever stages?' Raising his voice, he asked, "I am not sure what we are talking about here."
Salaar's sigh was one of helplessness. "Anything I say now would just be conjecture." He continued, "Let's start at the beginning then," Salaar said, leaning back against the log. "Tell me everything, Akim Saja'n. Leave no detail to shadow, for in the light, we may find the path forward."
'I might as well' Akim thought before speaking. "As I said before, I am Akim Saja'n, with no special lineage that I am aware of. My father was a simple man who lived under oppression like everyone else in the city of Turengi..."
"Turengi? As in the enslaved? From the root 'Tureng'?" Salaar interrupted.
"I never questioned it, never thought it could have a meaning if I’m being honest," Akim replied. "The name Turengi has always been a part of our lives, a reminder of the chains we bear."
"Names often reflect the spirit of a place," Salaar said thoughtfully. "Tureng might speak to the deep scars of your people’s history. But let's continue with your story; there might be clues ahead." He gestured for Akim to proceed.
"Alight, as I was saying, I come from a simple family, my mother did not survive child birth, but somehow I did.
Akim paused, his gaze distant as he recalled the fragmented memories of his early years. "My father, a humble man, raised me in the major city of Turengi, there were no names to our towns or cities, just a collective. Life there was hard—oppression was a constant shadow over everyone. We were disenfranchised, struggling to survive under the weight of those who ruled us with iron fists."
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I grew up watching my father toil endlessly, his spirit broken piece by piece under the hard reality. As I got older, I couldn't just stand by and accept our fate. I wanted to fight back, to do something, anything, to change our circumstances."
"But what could a boy of only ten do? They ruled with ruthless savagery, their grip unyielding. I won’t bore you with the details of our hardships—seeing people oppressed and treated like cattle. When my father also left this world.... "
Akim’s pause, gaze drifting to the fire, watching the embers spark and dance. Salaar observed in silence, his eyes never leaving Akim’s face.
"...When my father also left this world, I was alone, adrift in a sea of despair. That's when I first heard the whispers of the Umut, a name that brought hope to some and fear to others. As in all things, extreme begets extreme. They were the shadow in the night, the silent rebellion against our oppressors."
"How I found them, how I was tested and the toils I took to gain entry are a full tale of their own. Suffice it to say over the decades a few like-minded individuals and I found the atrocities we partook in the name of freedom became a burden too heavy to bear. The Umut, once a beacon of hope, began to mirror the darkness we sought to escape. Their methods grew harsher, and the lines between right and wrong blurred. I found myself questioning if the path of vengeance we walked truly led to liberation or was it just another form of oppression."
Akim’s voice grew softer, and the fire’s flickering shadows played across his face, mirroring the conflict that had once raged within him. “In the end, it wasn’t just me who grew disillusioned with Umut’s spiraling path of vengeance. A few of us, bound by a shared desire for a more righteous cause, decided to part ways with the group. We left Umut behind, hoping to find a new way to fight for our freedom—one that didn’t mirror the oppressive tactics we opposed.”
He looked up, his eyes reflecting the earnestness of his words. "The last echoes I heard of Umut spoke of a tragic end—consumed by the very cycle of vengeance they had vowed to break. It was a somber lesson that sometimes, in fighting monsters, we must take care not to become them.”
Salaar leaned forward, the gravity of his words as palpable as the heat from the fire. “The journey of a warrior is indeed fraught with trials. It’s easy to lose sight of why we started, but we must remember: it’s not our initial reasons that define us, but rather the path we choose to take. Our actions, our decisions, they carve out the true reasons we continue to fight.”
With that Salaar got up and said "I had not deemed it a long tale, thus my neglect in arranging for a meal as a proper for a host. If you allow
Akim nodded, a sense of clarity dawning within him. “And so, I left the Umut behind, seeking a new path. One that would lead to true freedom, not just for myself, but for all of Turengi. That’s when I found myself here, in this dimension, with the Heart guiding me and the blindfold revealing truths unseen by the naked eye.”
Salaar leaned forward, the gravity of his words as palpable as the heat from the fire. “The journey of a warrior is indeed fraught with trials. It’s easy to lose sight of why we started, but we must remember: it’s not our initial reasons that define us, but rather the path we choose to take. Our actions, our decisions, they carve out the true reasons we continue to fight.”
Akim nodded. In the continued silence, his stomach growled.
Salaar’s sudden movement brought a new energy to the space around the fire. “I had not anticipated such a long and captivating tale,” he admitted with a hint of apology in his voice. “It was an oversight on my part not to prepare a meal, for a good host should always offer sustenance to their guest. If you would permit me, I shall rectify this lapse in hospitality immediately.”
He gestured towards a modest setup at the edge of the clearing, where provisions were stored. “Though our fare may be simple, it is hearty and will replenish your strength. Let us break bread together, and you may continue your story as we dine.”