Fate was a false notion, an illusion created for nothing but control. Fear was the key ingredient in the recipe of manipulation, of forging a future based on molds already predetermined. The idea of being chosen for something important was against his nature. Oblivion didn't choose. It wasn't based on inherent genetics or foresighted, purposeful breeding. It was luck, a draw at straws, a genetic mutation weaving humanity and magic together. Perhaps whatever Divines created this Continent got bored with their simulations and the dullness of the mundane. Oblivion was marked as a term believing these new powers were the end of the world. Perhaps it was only just the beginning.

Kaid Al-Yami was nothing special.

His ability to control time, to mend mistakes of unimaginable consequences, or speak with the past meant nothing. A blade, once derived from the belief of fate, was nothing more than twisted history and planned mockery from Payne, his previous and dead enemy. He hoped his corpse was still rotting even after two years, that whatever hell he was in burned more than the fire that had scarred his face. Payne didn't haunt him in the afterlife, in the void where Kaid's dreams would enter when he slept.

What did haunt him, was his consequence of saving the world. The usurper blade had fulfilled its purpose before being altered entirely. Kaid knew it was always meant to kill Empress Jessamine, permanently. It almost succeeded in its task, only by a different wielder. Kaid didn't intend to save the world. He only meant to save his world. He meant to save the sandy haired goddess from her fate, a fate both of them knew to be forcibly thrown into their hands. Both of them were destined to lose, yet somehow, won in the end.

The only thing they lost was each other.

He didn't know if he could forgive her. He didn't even know if he already had. Kaid had entered a year of a void-filled sleep. A year in his mind that felt like a mere day talking with Farah, his deceased mother, in a place that was completely devoid of time and life. It was a place that called to him, one Kaid couldn't force upon his own. At first, he thought he had died and he had merely become a resident of such an afterlife. Only, he was a guest that had forced his way in unintentionally. His mother was a heavily opinionated woman, but a proud mother at that. All she wanted was her son's happiness, and upon awakening from his coma, he was unsure where that happiness resided.

Mara had hidden him inside Uhkhtar of all places, inside the city of Kanaf, a growing city and soon destined to be capital. It had been a fortress of old, now turned palace of grandeur, surrounded by a city of sand and brick. Ruins had now become a new foundation for the next generation of Uhkhtarians, but also refugees and other various Continent dwellers without much place to go. The world had apparently become chaotic during his time in what he thought was eternal slumber. When he woke up, he thought he had lost his Oblivion, that the heat of the arid and dry sun was just another version of hell. It wasn't until he awoke from his long slumber and saw young Kaid, son of Mara, that he realized his story was far from over.

Kaid had not lost his Oblivion at all, if anything the near death experience enhanced it in ways he hadn't realized. Time was energy, an invisible one that no clock or watch could fully express. That energy could be encapsulated in objects, in memories, and most of all people. When Bridger had taken him to Blackrock Isle, the place of his childhood, energy resided there like trapped vapors with no escape. And that energy needed to be transcribed, experienced, and documented by someone like himself before it could be fully released. Now, he could sense that in all things, in all beings, in the very grains of sands beneath his feet.

It was exhausting, to say the least, interpreting and sensing the fate of time woven in all things organic.

The only thing that quelled the influx of energy was a good book, and perhaps a light session of smoking a waterpipe to let the vapors coax his troubled mind. Only thing about smoking and reading at the same time was the way it would fog up his glasses. Like all things withered with excessive time, so did the quality of his eyes from constant reading. Kaid liked to blame that on those bright Caladin prison lights, though, rather than his excessive hobby. However, he needed something to drown out the silent, annoying noise in his head. Music could help. He almost believed hearing Jessamine play the piano would be the perfect cure, or perhaps merely a re-entry to the curse of her seduction.

A small commotion arose Kaid from his distraction, placing the pipe down, feeling the book close in his hands as his eyes scanned the vast room. One thing about Uhkhtar is that the community here was strong. Every night, there was music, dancing, food, entertainment either in the form of public fights or gambling. Small shouts were heard over the various chatter, or the clinking of glasses from the bar area. Upon looking at the shouts, a broad, muscular man was shouting at someone. And as Kaid paused time to follow the man's gaze, it fell right upon his dear friend's son: Kai. At least, he liked to go by Kai to not confuse himself with his 'uncle'. Kaid and Mara had to fall under the disguise as being cousins, although they felt like much closer family than that.

Kaid noticed Kai slip something into his pockets, a nerve of frustration being struck as the mentor was watching his student continue to stumble. He placed his book aside, taking one last blow of smoke to let it coax his nerves before standing and gently brushing through the crowd.

"Musa! Got a new poem for us yet?" a passerby asked with a smile.

"Not yet," Kaid, or rather Musa as he was called in this city, answered. If these people knew who he really was, that he was the son of their last real, formal leader...it wouldn't be safe. Shailud made it impossible to let Kaid be who he really was. It didn't help his name was constantly plastered in various newspapers across the Continent.

Shailud was a radical born from the oppression of the previous Vitross regime, and the current, bleak Lungor power that resided here. Kaid did not necessarily blame Shailud for wanting to reunite the people in this desert country. After all, unification was borne eventually out of oppression. As the world healed, so did people within those communities. Kaid was going to let the man rule without problem, despite his mothers whispered pleas in the wind to get involved. He went an entire year without getting involved. That changed when he saw Jessamine was a target on his violent list of people to overthrow.

A change in regime he could accept, after all, the prime target was Lungor, an empire Kaid despised himself. It was run by his father, a man who valued power and fortune over that of benevolence and peace...a man who imprisoned his own son and removed his memories to make him suffer a childhood without purpose, without knowing the weight of his powers. Perhaps he should feel the way about Jessamine: a woman who had manipulated, lied...but also loved. If anything, he was angry she had somehow brought him back to life, to exist in this world that forever tried to hold him down. While he held deep resentment for Jessamine, unsure of how he truly felt for her...this was something he couldn't let come to motion.

"You! You stole from me!" The angered man grabbed Kai by the collar of his kaftan, yanking the nine year old back.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, feigning innocence in those green eyes, raising his empty hands with ignorance.

"I know you stole from me, you little shit," the man laid his hand on his arm, gripping it firmly. At that, Kaid knew he had to interject.

"What is going on here?" Kaid, or rather Musa, asked, folding his glasses into his pockets to observe the situation.

"This shit knows exactly what he did. He stole my money. I had a pouch of coin attached to my belt. This kid brushes by, not once, but twice, and the second time it's gone. It looks like we have a thief on our hands. I don't care what your benevolent beliefs are, Musa, but you know the law. Thieves get their fingers chopped."

Kaid stopped time, briefly and as always, inconspicuously as he now held the firm pouch of gold in his fist. He hid it in his pocket for now, clenching his jaw in frustration at little Kai's amateur thievery. This would certainly be a discussion for later.

"Go ahead and search him then," Kaid shrugged, seeing the fear in the boys eyes widen, "but don't grip him like that. He is not your child."

"And he is not yours, either," the man rebutted, scoffing slightly before smiling at the fact he would prove himself right. Yet, the man checked and patted down all the nooks and crannies a thief would hide their stolen prizes. Pockets were empty, other than little Kai's small knife used for protection and self defense only. But there was no pouch of coin to be found, which infuriated the man.

"Where'd you hide it?!" he demanded, seeing the boy exhale with slight relief.

"I didn't take anything, I swear on my mother-" Kai pleaded.

"Don't swear on your mother boy, it's pathetic. You're the only child here constantly misbehaving and I'm starting to wonder if that stems from your bitch of a mother, Mara-" he spat, before Kaid immediately shoved him away out of anger. Kaid had always protected Mara, whenever he could. And his one failure in doing so resulted in this ever growing need to feel to protect her. Like most of the women in Kaid's life, they could protect themselves. But Mara was like a sister to him, a sibling borne from the same struggle. And while they had taken two different paths for a short time, they found their way back to each other to journey this together.

"Hey! What's going on here?" Sabine, the designated Shurta (peacekeeper), immediately made her way over. Sabine was a nice, protective woman. She was an Uhkhtarian orphan, same as Kaid, but had a love for politics and held a desire to lead these people of hers in a good direction. The problem is, as with most men in this Continent, is they didn't like certain women enter that realm of power. Shailud was graceful enough to offer her the position of Shurta, which she took very seriously. But like Kaid, she often took the approach of understanding first before immediately jumping into violence.

"Mind your business, woman. We gave these people a home, a place to stay, jobs...and this is how their children act? And what worth is her cousin, hm, Musa? What value are you as some poet, some historian? You sit here, eat our food, reside in our home...yet you refuse to defend it. Shailud needs every able bodied male into his service and yet you deny him that."

"Whatever you believe to have been stolen was probably misplaced," Kaid scowled slightly moving closer, capable of smelling the stench of alcohol on his breath, "You found nothing. Now, back off before you make a fool of yourself."

"Me? A fool?" he laughed, not even hesitating as he grabbed Kaid's collar, forcing him into the nearest table, slamming him down into it. Kaid saw it coming, but he needed an excuse to quell that itch, the itch of violence he tried to drown with literature and kindness. The truth was, violence would always exist, because men like this would always find a way to belittle and bully. And sometimes, that meant someone like Kaid would have to step in. Now, this man had just given Kaid an excuse.

Jessamine's gentle words rang through his mind as the silence of the crowd witnessed Kaid slowly recovering to stand from the broken table, his backside certainly sore. You don't start fights, but you certainly know how to finish them. It was so true of Caladin, and also true after escaping that hellhole. Life didn't feel so different from that simulation at times like this.

The crowds gathered upon the revelation this was going to turn into a fight. Kaid removed the belt tie from his kaftan, standing from the ruined furniture to slowly wrap that fabric around the knuckles of his right hand. It was a clear indicator Kaid wasn't going to back down, and that only initiated more attention. Afterall, Kaid knew this man to be some sort of tax collector soldier for Shailud. He wasn't well liked, he had more muscles than brain cells, and certainly he towered over Kaid in size. Still, Kaid trained daily, unbeknownst to everyone. Maybe this man would learn not to underestimate a mere poet.

"Musa, you don't have to fight this bastard," Sabine shouted over the growing, eager shouts of the small crowd forming. Her voice was laced with genuine concern, and almost annoyance at the situation. Men and their fighting. Even someone like Musa could be coaxed into violence, and she worried that perhaps maybe the poet was in over his head.

They paced in a circle, the crowd allowing just enough space to keep distance. Kaid didn't want to throw the first hit, he wanted to keep the power in his arms a secret until the moment of opportunity opened. Besides, observing the man in this state of alcoholic rage only meant he could study him further. Kaid could know what to expect in a fight merely just by the twinges of his muscles, by freezing the frames of time to see just how his neck tensed, how his body slowly formed into a fighting stance. A tilt of the neck to the slightest degree to the left indicated a highly likely chance he'd hit Kaid first with a swing of his right fist. The same for how his feet were angled, which was something he learned with swordplay in Vitross.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Everything in this life could be studied, observed, and certainly learnt from. Fighting, in all its various forms, was no different.

Given his drunken and more aggressive state, it was no surprise the belligerent soldier threw the first punch. And as Kaid predicted, it was a high right hook, one he was easily able to dodge because he saw it coming. His eyes drifted to his feet, seeing the sudden shift and he immediately had to expect a counter with his left first. Kaid immediately raised his arm, stiffing and blocking the lazier, not so powerful counter to his first miss. Kaid knew with every missed contact or blocked strike, this man would only grow more aggravated, which would become his own downfall. But maybe he could stun the man into submission.

While his right arm had countered, Kaid moved his left over to chop the arm down, preventing a well timed block. And that left the left side of his asshole looking face rather vulnerable. Kaid clenched his right fist, feeling the burn of the fabric around his knuckles and palm before slamming it directly into the center of his face, right at the bridge of his nose. Kaid of all people knew how painful a broken nose could be, but he was pretty sure that punch alone broke more than just cartilage.

His assailant stumbled back with a loud groan, the hit to his skull causing him to almost lose balance. Kaid could have taken advantage of his blurry vision and disoriented self, but decided against it. Perhaps he should have, because the second the man came to, out of spite he pulled a knife from the sheath at his hip.

Sabine immediately tried to intervene upon the sight of a weapon, but the crowd held her back, as if this was merely a spectacle of entertainment. Fights happened, but even the shurta knew the second a blade was out, the intent transformed from sending a message into calculated murder. Yet, Kaid didn't seem phased by the knife. The man was drunk. He had a better chance of falling on his own blade than even placing a precise cut on Kaid's mocha-colored skin. It was not that Kaid was cocky, but he was confident in himself now, in his ability. He wasn't the same man he was perhaps three years ago, still stuck in prison trying to claw his way every day to survive.

Kaid was a killer, with no intention of killing, at least not tonight.

Kaid dodged every single jab or strike with the knife, waiting for the best opening to counter. Finally it came with a frustrated lunge, one Kaid side stepped before immediately countering. Going low, he used the man's broad body and gravity against him, sweeping at his already unbalanced feet to trip him. He fell flat on his back, Kaid watching the knife slip just loosely enough from his hand, only for a second. Kaid grasped it, turning the blade against him, holding it to his neck while his knee pressed firmly against his sternum.

The crowd silenced slightly as the fight ended much more abruptly than expected. Kaid pressed the tip of the blade to his neck, expecting to prick and bleed. Yet, the blade was rather dull. Ironic, if anything. When Kaid could clearly see defeat in the man's dark eyes, Kaid slowly rose off him, allowing him to breathe. Sabine ran over, her eyes scanning Kaid, or rather Musa, to see if he was alright. And other than the drops of sweat, there was nothing.

"This blade is dull. You should probably take it to Mara, she can sharpen it for you," Kaid insisted, knowing that would only add more sting to the man's wounds and ego. And that, it did.

"Gods, Proffit, a knife?!" Sabine scowled, "I should throw you in the pit overnight for this."

"I think he's had enough humiliation for one night," someone from the crowd snickered, which made Kaid smile. He handed the blade over to Sabine, signaling it was her evidence to take care of now, and so was Proffit. Kaid had made his point, at least to the belligerent drunk. He still had to make his point across to little Kai, who had eagerly watched the fight.

Kaid forced the boy outside, glancing to see if anyone was around before showing him the pouch of coins.

"What were you thinking?! Stealing from one of the palace soldiers, and almost getting caught too!" Kaid whispered, frustration clear in his tone.

"I was only trying to help," Kai shrugged, clearly not caring much given he wasn't exactly caught.

"Help? You need to stop stealing. You need to stop hanging around those friends of yours, they're only getting you into trouble," Kaid insisted to the boy, "There might be a time I'm not around to bail you out like that."

"You're not my father, you can't tell me what to do!"

"You're right, I'm not. But I am trying to do what is best for you. And certainly, your mother will hear about this, from your lips. Go home and tell her right now what happened, otherwise she will hear it from me tomorrow and you won't want that," he demanded.

"It's your fault, you know. My life was ruined because of you," the boy felt tears rise in his soft eyes, pulling away from him to walk home. Kaid felt a sting at the words. He knew Kai was only mad about getting caught, and nearly humiliated in the process, not to mention upset that Kaid had to intervene. No doubt his mother wouldn't be happy to hear this either.

But the words hurt because he was right. The boy's life had been uprooted because of him. Had Kaid followed Jessamine's original plan, that ship could've taken them anywhere but here to hide. With everything he did, the Time Paradox...all of it resulted in having to hide somewhere much more secret. Kai had no books to read. There was hardly a decent school in this city. And this was all because Mara chose to hide Kaid, and stay with him even after he had recovered. All that nine year old knew was that his life was a constant struggle because of the man he was named after.

The world hated him. Shouldn't that make him hate the world?

He turned around, seeing Sabine there, once more making sure he was alright. Kaid pulled out the pouch and tossed it to her, surprise in her eyes.

"So, he did take it?" she asked.

"No. Proffitt merely misplaced it," Kaid hummed, lying through his teeth.

"Well, I suppose we might need to take a few coins out to replace the table he broke. And a fine for assault," she spoke, rummaging through the coin, "and maybe just enough for a refreshment. Can I buy you a drink, Musa?"

Kaid didn't see any harm in it.

"Sure," he agreed, feeling a sharp soreness in his spine from being thrown into that table. He'd certainly feel it tomorrow. But maybe a drink would help numb that to help him sleep for tonight.

They walked back in, luckily the crowd went back to their gambling or drinking which made the space warm and welcoming once more. Sabine had let Proffitt off the hook, which she had to do merely because he was one of Shailud's men. There wasn't much she could do, other than take some of his coin lost in the process of fighting. They sat at the bar, Sabine ordering two glasses of arak. Kaid unwrapped the cloth around his knuckles, seeing slight bruises but nothing too damaging. He was pretty sure he had broken his knuckle bones far too much to even count all the shattered pieces.

"Did you have a son, Musa?" Sabine asked, rather cautiously.

"What?" he asked in return, a bit surprised at the question. Did he really look that old?

"Kai. I know he's not your son but...you look at him like he is the ghost of a son," she clarified, "I only know that because I do the same for a lot of the children here. I lost my two brothers. It's difficult hearing a little boy laugh and not think of them."

He now understood what she was asking. It was true, there was something about little Kai that was so familiar with Sebastian. They both had this youthful defiance in their eyes. And Sebastian had been killed because of such stubbornness, because Kaid couldn't save him. He couldn't let Mara's son fall into the same fate. Sebastian was nowhere to be found in that timeless void either, as far as Kaid knew. Perhaps Sebastian hated him. After all, Kaid was the one to kill him. That was reason alone to never speak with a voidwalker that was still alive and interfering with the dead in his sleep.

"He wasn't my son, but I suppose he looked up to me like a father," Kaid admitted. And ironically enough, little Kai certainly didn't see Kaid as his father, understandably so. Kai was lucky enough to never meet his real father though. Kaid certainly wished he never knew his, and learned it a bit too late. It was just another thing Jessamine had hid from him for far too long. Things might've been different in terms of the good relations between Lungor and Vitross if Kaid had known so much earlier.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

Kaid could hear the breaking of Sebastian's neck in his mind, remembering how his heartbeat throbbed dramatically before finally ceasing in his arms.

"War," he answered, taking a sip of the arak before making a disgruntled face. Ugh. Alcohol. He almost forgot why he hated the taste.

"So, you were a soldier. Well, that explains how you embarrassed Proffitt so easily," she hummed. Kaid glanced at her, seeing dark brown hair matching a similar skin tone to his own. Sabine was Uhkhtarian through and through. She probably stemmed from generations of the desert folk here. She truly cared for the people here, much better than Shailud. She was a fighter, same as him, where both maybe didn't look like it. However, he had seen her train with a blade before. She knew how to use it. And she was well educated, intelligent, crafty...she should be the one leading these people. Not Shailud.

But talk like that around here could be taken as treason.

"It is hard to avoid living in this world without having to indulge in a bit of violence," Kaid shrugged, "war is the inevitability of people's fear. We spill blood to match the nervous tempo in our hearts, marching to our deaths. Remove that fear, remove this temptation of survival, only peace remains."

She smiled, taking a sip of her arak before looking at him with soft eyes, "The fighter disappears back into the shell, and only the poet is left."

"I only fight when the necessity arises," Kaid admitted.

"Not true. I saw it in your eyes. You're a war-torn veteran waiting for a mere opportunity. You need to be careful. If Shailud finds out this poet can fight, he will try to recruit you," she teased softly.

"How are things going with Shailud?" he changed the subject slightly, not wanting to indulge ever fighting for this potential dictator.

"Busy. He's already beginning to play games for the other Empires. Lungor and Vitross agree to visit in the upcoming months, which means having to clean that palace to pristine. Apparently, the Empress of Vitross wants to make a show of it: fireworks, music...you name it. Meanwhile all the poor have to sit on the walls and listen from a distance while myself and Shailud have to pretend to be the aristocrats we aren't," she scoffed slightly, "she's a handful, that one. But she shows no malicious intent...yet."

Ingenious, Kaid thought. Hell, he knew of all people, Jessamine hated any sort of show, a faux masquerade of appearances. But there was a reason she was throwing a party of all things, not only to popularize her new railroad for transportation, but to start her appearance off strong. Sure, there would be plenty who would see her as a woman who valued materialization over anything else, but Shailud would be a fool to do any brash at a party of all things. She was playing games, which is exactly what she needed to do.

"You need to be careful at that party," Kaid warned, seeing slight surprise in her eyes.

"What makes you say that, Musa?"

"You know what I mean. If Shailud is planning anything rash, especially towards Lungor, lives are at risk. These people were nearly wiped off the face of this desert, drowned in their own water supply without remorse or apology. What makes you think some Emperor won't do it again? All they need is a reason, and it doesn't have to be a strong one," Kaid explained.

"Or...Empress. Shailud is far more concerned about her than the Lungor's soon to be Emperor," she shrugged, clearly avoiding talking about details.

"What do you mean by that? Lungor steals and mines graphite without permission. They send soldiers and patrols to terrorize local merchant caravans. Lungor is a threat-"

"Shailud said he's making a deal with them. Apparently they're much easier to negotiate with than Vitross," she whispered, clenching her jaw slightly. She shouldn't be disclosing any of this with him. But after all, he was only a poet, and he too clearly cared about the people here. Musa was harmless in her eyes. And honestly when looking at him, all she wanted to do was spill out her own heart.

"A deal for what? Can you trust that?"

"I don't know. Shailud hardly speaks about it but whatever they want is frustrating him to no end. They want information but I don't think Shailud has it. I don't trust it, you know that. I lived under the Lungor occupation all my life. Lungor at least tried to repair the damage Vitross caused, but that doesn't mean I trust their intentions. Whomever they are looking for, it could be enough to make Uhkhtar a proper country, hell, maybe even its own Empire if we grow big enough. Lungor would let us do what we please."

"Who?" Kaid asked for clarification. Not what, but who. They wanted information on someone, and Kaid could feel a drop of nervous sweat drip down the back of his neck. Lungor could be growing close. They could have their suspicions. And if Shailud were to take this deal, it might not be long before word started to spread.

"I've said too much already," Sabine shook her head, downing the rest of her arak before standing from the stool. Kaid grabbed her wrist gently, his eyes looking into hers with a soft plea.

"Do you have a name?" Kaid questioned softly, "Perhaps I can help. I've traveled all over the Continent."

"No. But whoever it is, he seems powerful enough to challenge all the Empires. If he threatens them, to Shailud he's also an even greater threat. And any threat as of right now to Shailud is a threat to Uhkhtar. I'll heed your caution about the party. Maybe if your poems keep growing popular, you'll be invited as well."

"I think I'd be the last person that should be invited to a party," Kaid tried to end the conversation with humor, smiling faintly. But he was also being rather honest. If his truth came out, a manhunt would begin. And nowhere would be safe. He couldn't go running back into Jessamine's arms. She'd deny him. She had to. She would risk everything for taking him under her wing once more. But it was the only safe place, in her arms.

And he wouldn't be the only one hunted if that did happen. He had to think about Mara as well.

"You'd still be a welcome sight, regardless. But, you have your hands full. Keep Kai out of trouble, Musa. Thank you, for indulging me in both a drink and a show," she returned the smile.

"Next drink is on me," he replied, before seeing her blush and turn away, nodding. And when her back turned, his smile immediately faltered. He knew what he was doing, using a young girl's affection for him to gain information. It made him no better than Jessamine, did it? She was kind, content, and attractive. Any man would be lucky to catch her eye. She offered stability, but Kaid was anything but stable. No woman would want a liar, even if it was done for means of survival. Kaid did not see any prospective future with her in that regard.

Because she was not the Empress, his Empress. The Empress he equally hated and adored. An Empress he'd reverse time for, at the cost of his life. He should have stayed dead. This world sincerely would be different, better, if he had died along with Payne, just as prophesized.

He wasn't dead though, which meant just as time continued in life, so must he.