They took Indra to the uncharted lands governed by Ocean, the keeper of secrets and protector of the unknown. Unlike the burning sands of the roaring Sun, her sky was blue like the sea waves, her earth was rich and bore luscious fruits, her rain was generous and plump of life.

It was the land of the devourers, the heartseekers, loathsome creatures that feasted upon human flesh. As children of Ocean, they savored her inebriating love and warm caresses, partaking on her taste for the forbidden fruit of death, that which could only be tasted by the primal Gods.

The ever brimming isle of no name, from whose extending claws could no one escape.

Indra was shipped on a lone boat; by tradition, her mother and father on the rowers. Sun was no more dazzling and violent, for his rules reigned far away, on the desert.

The lush greeneries of the high forest and moisture of the mossy swamps drew a cool breeze, signaling their arrival.

She was dropped on the slushy earth as the scornful gazes of her parents whipped her corrupt body. It would be the last time they would see her.

They held no hatred for their daughter, but felt disgust for the blood running on her veins– the blood running on the family’s vessels. The poor girl was not to blame.

The fault was on them.

“Indra, my daughter, we have nothing but shame to show in front of you” sobbed the weeping mother, hoping Sun would forgive her for the sin of crying.

“To bear this cursed blood and spread it to my children like a disease, an infection… I am a disgrace to my people, to my valiant brethren a disgrace i am! Indra… This is our farewell, and though i wished to muster the strength of a beast, i can’t look into your eyes as we part”

“F-father…What is it Sun teaches us?” she inquired, a coughing low voice.

“In my world live the strong, they prey on the weak. But the strong, too, perish, and return to me” he chanted.

The mother’s tears stopped cascading through her cheeks. They wouldn’t come back to Sun, his hands could not reach them, not like that.

“Indra… We must put an end to this nightmare, and there is only one way out”

“Mother…”

“When we return to Autumn village, we will forsake our lives over the sacred fire of the pyre. Your brothers and sisters will fight each other to the death in an attempt to appease Sun, who’s watching us above the clouds.

The last one standing must kill himself, spilling the last of our rotten blood”.

“Don’t…Don’t…” cried Indra, who could barely move without being struck by pain.

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“Indra, for our sacrifice to be noticed, you should also cease from living. Tomorrow, when Sun is at his highest, bleed yourself to the ground with this. It will be the end of the hateful bloodline” finished the father, spreading her hands and securing the knife on her five fingers.

“Father… Don’t do this…”

They stood up and pushed the boat in the water, saying their last words before disappearing into the fog.

“Don’t disappoint us, Indra.”

“Our lovely daughter, hear your father’s words. Don’t let our deaths be in vain”.

Indra wanted to cry just like her mother did, moments before, but it was useless. Crying was the advent of the mind’s weakness.

Weren’t they supposed to fight? To battle? To gamble with destiny for a chance of surviving?Why was it they were giving up? She didn’t understand any of it. What was the blood they so much spoke of?

As her skin shone by the small sparkles of light diluting the thick mist, like a dying star, these doubts sprouted in her head.

It wasn’t an answer she was looking for, neither a hope to attach herself to, because if dying was the only way out, she would gladly hold the knife at her throat and go down like a proud, ferocious tiger.

She wanted a reason to move on, to feel her death wouldn’t be useless and her life kept ameaning.

Indra couldn’t afford to die, not like an animal abandoned in the wild, a discarded object.

Her muscles relaxed slowly, allowing her control over her body. She tightened the knife on her hand and clenched her teeth with a scathing headache destroying her consciousness.

Her vision was blurred and short-sighted, although she wouldn’t be able to see in the fog even if it was perfect.

She dragged herself one step at a time. Even that weak light punished her flesh with the pain of a thousand needles skewing her every angle.

Indra endured the pain, tolerating hunger and thirstiness, bit the knife to free her hands and crawled like a worm with her face dug in mud, clothes dyed brown and hair tastelessly honeyed.

She spotted a small puddle of dirty water and crammed her head inside it, slurping the rancid liquid as a dog licking its own wounds. It tasted worse than she imagined, but kindness was not to be expected even from nature itself. Her stomach filled,she kept crawling by the bog.

The first hurdle, finding a safe haven for the night.