© Faris S. J. 2024. All rights reserved.
Chapter Two: Luca's Shattered Dream
‘Luca… Luca… Wait! Don’t forget your lunch! And tomorrow’s the Celebration—be ready!’
My mother’s voice, filled with her usual warmth and concern, followed me as I dashed out the door, hurrying to catch the workers’ cart to the city. I couldn’t stop; it was my only chance to arrive on time. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, ignoring the pangs of hunger reminding me of the lunch I’d left behind.
My name is Luca. I’m nineteen years old, named after our nation’s glorious hero, the Luca who led our kingdom of Desilta to freedom from the Ravens’ Kingdom. They ruled with an iron fist, enslaving nations without mercy. My mother’s stories of Luca’s bravery and his fight against injustice filled me with a deep longing. My lifelong fantasy: to stand as a warrior amongst courageous fighters, just like him.
During Luca’s revolution against tyranny, I lost my father. He was a stranger to me. All I have are my mother’s stories of his courage, fighting alongside the rebels under Luca’s banner. He died in a battle against the Ravens’ Kingdom. Whenever my mother spoke of him, silent tears would stream down her face. A mixture of pride and sorrow filled me whenever I heard of his heroism. His absence left a gaping hole in my life, but his memory—the spirit of bravery he left behind—was a fire that propelled me forward.
Tomorrow I turn twenty, the day of the “Life Path Choosing” ceremony for every young adult in Desilta. The thought of it made my heart pound with anticipation and nervousness. I’d watched others go through the ceremony, wondering when my turn would come. Tomorrow, I would know my destiny.
This ceremony would determine my entire future, the path I would follow for the rest of my life. The thought that a single day would decide my life was daunting, yet it also offered a sense of certainty and stability.
My dream was to become a warrior, emulating my father and the legendary Luca, the revolutionary leader who reigned, then disappeared, bequeathing his vision of justice and equality, founding our kingdom. In my vision, I was a warrior, wielding a weapon to defend the innocent and fight for what’s right. I always remembered the image of my father and Luca. I sensed their presence, encouraging me to pursue my aspiration.
Luca’s disappearance was a devastating blow to the people of Desilta, but he left instructions for his deputy to rule until his return. In my mother’s opinion, this inspired hope in the people. Despite the passing years, we clung to his will, living in hope of his return, striving to uphold his teachings.
I reached the village square where the cart to White City, Desilta’s capital, awaited. It transported workers to continue the construction and expansion projects. Workers crowded around, each carrying their tools, ready for a long day of hard labour. The air was sultry, the road rough, but exciting building our nation overshadowed the fatigue. Each of us carried a sense of pride, watching Desilta grow before our eyes.
The overseer’s voice rang out:
‘You, go to the western part of the city… and you, head north and help repair the roofs damaged by the rain… and you…’
He assigned tasks as our cart pulled into the distribution square. He was a stern but fair man, dividing tasks. When my turn came, the overseer directed me to the southern part of the city to help repair a house door damaged by the heavy rains that had lashed down all last week. A wave of enthusiasm overcame me.
I went with one of the master carpenters, assigned as his assistant for the door repair. He was a seasoned and meticulous craftsman. I tried to absorb as much of his expertise as possible, knowing that every skill I learned today could be valuable, regardless of the path chosen for me tomorrow.
Once we finished the repairs, we returned to the central meeting point to await further instructions. This time, someone tasked me with accompanying a builder to the western part of the city to repair the merchant’s farmhouse roof. Work continued despite the setting sun. Fatigue set in, but I pushed myself, remembering that this effort was my small contribution to building my country.
After completing the roof repair, the overseer announced the end of the day’s work. We headed towards the cart that would take us back to our village. Despite the exhaustion etched on everyone’s faces, there was a sense of satisfaction in what we had accomplished. We shared stories about the day’s work, laughing at some of the humorous situations we’d encountered.
On the journey back, my thoughts drifted to tomorrow, the day of my Life Path Choosing. I wondered what I would say if they chose me as a warrior, imagining my village’s joy. I pictured myself dressed in a warrior’s uniform, the Life Bracelet on my wrist glowing red, a weapon in my hand, ready to defend my homeland. But deep down, a flicker of anxiety remained about the possibility of a different path.
The Life Path Choosing was a complex process, requiring the chosen to pass through the Gate of Life to see their destined path. These were the laws of Desilta, established by our ancestors centuries ago. I wondered how it would all unfold. Would it be painful? These questions swirled in my mind as the familiar outline of my village came into view. I made a promise to myself that whatever path awaited me, I would strive to serve my country to the best of my ability, just like my father and the great Luca before me.
The next morning, I awoke to my mother’s voice, reminding me to prepare for the evening’s ceremony. A surge of joy coursed through me; the day had arrived. Excitement and apprehension mingled within me, anticipation thrumming in my veins. I rose from my bed, aware of signifying this long-awaited day. I dressed, my mind racing with possibilities.
Moments later, I heard a knock at the door. It was my friend Chris, who congratulated me and offered to accompany me through the day’s rituals. Village custom dictated that men share food and drink before donning the ceremonial Desiltan attire. I opened the door to find him beaming, a wide smile on his face. He embraced me, offered his congratulations, and then stepped inside, outlining the day’s plans. He said:
‘As the red twilight appears with the setting sun, we’ll head to the Celebration Plaza on the high plateau between several Desiltan villages, including ours, to begin the Life Path ritual.’
Chris began talking about the ceremony. With every word, my nervousness grew, but I tried to mask it, feigning confidence and enthusiasm. I glanced at my mother and asked if she wanted to accompany me. She declined, saying she’d prefer to stay home and prepare a celebratory meal for my return.
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Chris and I headed to the tavern near my house. As we drank, I noticed a strange expression on his face—a mixture of apprehension and hesitation. Chris was a year older than me. Though his destiny was clear, he seemed to wrestle with unspoken words, reluctant to reveal his secret. I tried to discern his thoughts, but his expression gave nothing away.
I asked:
‘Chris, anything to share before I proceed with path selection?’
He looked at me, hesitated, then said,
‘Not… but listen, Luca, your life will change. You won’t be the carefree Luca we know anymore. Your Life Path will bind you to a specific way of life, one that demands sacrifice and dedication.’
His tone was serious, his eyes held a depth I couldn’t quite fathom, and his words carried significant weight.
I replied:
‘My friend, everyone knows that. My dream is to be a warrior, and I’ll commit to that life, giving it everything I’ve got.’
I tried to sound resolute, even though doubts were creeping in.
Chris let out a drink-heavy chuckle. He looked at me, his eyes heavy-lidded, and said with a touch of sarcasm:
‘What will be your course of action if you’re not picked as a warrior? What if the path chooses you to be a builder like me?’
He raised his hand, glancing at his Life Bracelet, glowing green.
His gaze held a mixture of mockery and pity. My stomach clenched. This idea, I evaded. The mere thought of being chosen for a path other than a warrior filled me with dread. I forced a smile, trying to push the thought away, but Chris continued,
‘I desired warrior hood; fate, however, made me a builder. And Jack, that chubby lad, dreamed of being a merchant, but fate chose him as a servant. That was the worst potential outcome for him. Haven’t seen him since.’
His words drove my growing unease. A cold sweat prickled my skin.
Chris’s voice took on a tone of resigned acceptance.
‘You know the laws of Desilta and its paths. We must respect them. The ancients established these paths, and through them, Desilta’s prosperity and greatness endure.’
His words wrapped around me like a shroud of resignation. I recalled our teacher’s words at school:
‘There are five Life Paths in Desilta: Builders, Merchants, Warriors, Sages, and Servants.’
I tried to steer the conversation away from these gloomy thoughts. I said,
‘Chris, I’m optimistic. I’m named Luca, after the outstanding leader, and I have a strong will. I believe my will can influence the path, and that gives me hope.’
Despite my attempt at confidence, doubts gnawed at me.
Chris shook his head with a faint smile.
‘Well then, I wish you luck, my friend. Let’s head to the plaza to get you fitted for the ceremonial robes. There might be others sharing this day with you, embarking on their own Life Path Choosing.’
His tone was a mix of encouragement and doubt, which only amplified my anxiety.
We walked together to the Celebration Plaza. They presented me with the traditional Desiltan robes for the occasion—a black cloak embroidered with silver thread—and gave me the Life Bracelet, a heavy piece of silver clasped around my wrist. Its weight served as a constant reminder of this significant day, the day deciding my future.
Families and young people filled the plaza, witnessing the ceremony. Anticipation and tension filled the air. Feeling every eye on me increased my nervousness. Upon arrival at the platform, I encountered two others in matching ceremonial attire—a young man and a red-haired girl in the women’s version, both clad in black with shimmering silver embroidery. I attempted to interpret their expressions, but they appeared calm.
The Master of Ceremonies stood at the centre of the platform. His blue-glowing bracelet identified him as a Sage. His face was serious and stern.
He announced,
‘Today, we celebrate these young adults coming of age. Today, they will have their Life Paths chosen. They will be bound to the glorious land of Desilta and will sacrifice for it. Long live Desilta!’
The crowd screamed,
‘Long live Desilta!’
My heart pounded, the anticipation building.
The young man beside me was called first. Next to the Master of Ceremonies stood a girl holding a tray with three small vials. With each step the young man took towards the table, my anxiety intensified.
The Master of Ceremonies offered him one vial and instructed him to drink it. He took the vial, drank its contents, and then lay down on the large table in the centre of the platform. I watched every movement, trying to prepare myself for what was to come.
Moments later, the young man’s body rose into the air as if in a deep sleep. But his expression revealed intense anxiety, as if trapped in a relentless nightmare. His body twitched and jerked, as if struggling against invisible restraints. The sight was unnerving. With every passing moment, a sense of dread seeped deeper into my bones.
His body descended back onto the table. He awoke, and the Master of Ceremonies instructed him to rise. He got off the table. The Master of Ceremonies raised his voice again.
‘Your Life Path has been chosen. Show your bracelet.’
The young man raised his hand. His bracelet had turned yellow. A mix of surprise and curiosity washed over me, wondering what colour mine would be.
The Master of Ceremonies declared,
‘Your Life Path is a merchant. You are now bound to your bracelet. Keep it on; removing it will sever your life. This is the ancient law of our land. Your life is bound to your bracelet. Seek guidance from the Merchant Leader.’
The young man left the platform, looking pleased, heading towards the Merchant Leader’s station. I watched him go, a mixture of envy and fear swirling within me. My life path: would it bring me his contentment?
The Master of Ceremonies then gestured to the girl beside me. She stepped towards the table, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Her hands trembled as she took the vial, drank the liquid, and lay down on the table, just as the young man before her. Her body, too, rose, and the same frightening convulsions began, as if she were experiencing a terrifying nightmare unfolding before everyone.
I watched her with apprehension, knowing my turn was next.
Her face was pale and her eyes wide. She seemed as if her entire universe had flipped when she got off the table. The Master of Ceremonies instructed her to raise her hand. As she did, all eyes turned to her bracelet, now glowing purple. A freeze gripped me, time pausing as whispers spread through the crowd.
The girl burst into tears, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. She wept as if facing an inescapable fate, tears streaming down her cheeks, making her look as though she’d lost something irreplaceable.
The Master of Ceremonies said,
‘Your Life Path has been chosen as servant. You must commit to this path and dedicate yourself to it. Seek guidance from the Servant Leader.’
His words seemed cold and harsh against the backdrop of the girl’s despair. She obeyed, descending from the platform with faltering steps, broken and heartbroken. The sight was both terrifying and painful. Fear gripped me even tighter, making me think more deeply about my own impending fate.
Then it was my turn. The Master of Ceremonies gestured for me to step forward. My heart hammered against my ribs, fear holding me in a vice-like grip. I walked, trying to banish the thought of being chosen for anything other than the warrior’s path. However, the thought stuck with me, serving as a harsh reminder of the unwanted possibilities.
This is the day I’ve dreamed of my whole life, I told myself. The day I become a warrior. But a small voice inside whispered doubts.
The Master of ceremonies handed me the last vial. I drank it, despite my dry throat and rising nausea. The liquid was thick, and a wave of dizziness washed over me, as if the ground was tilting beneath my feet. I tried to steady myself, but I felt helpless as black spots danced before my eyes.
I stumbled back until I hit the table behind me and lay down, just like the others. As soon as my back touched the table, a sharp pain shot through my head, as if a thousand arrows were piercing my skull. The pain was unbearable. I almost cried out, wondering if everyone before me had endured this agony.
I tried to breathe to calm myself, but the pain intensified with each breath. I felt an immense emptiness, losing all sense of time and place.
I opened my eyes to find myself in a vast hall with dark red walls, devoid of any features. The air was stifling, the unnatural silence amplifying my sense of disorientation.
I shouted into the void,
‘Is anyone there?’
Only the echo of my voice answered, bouncing off the empty walls, deepening my sense of isolation.
Then the scene shifted. The walls turned green. Nothing else. The change was so sudden it sent another wave of dizziness through me. At the far end of the hall, a shadowy figure sat on a chair, its features indistinct.
The shadow spoke, its voice deep and resonant.
‘Luca, fate has set your Life Path... you will prevent ageing and sickness as long as you dedicate yourself to it. But remember, should you falter or betray your path, your bracelet will betray you, and the land of Desilta will reject you. You will become mortal, age, and wither, Builder.’
His words hit me like a thunderbolt. For a moment, I froze. Then, a roar of protest erupted inside me, as if my entire world had shattered.
I cried out in despair,
‘What? Builder? No… No… No…!’
But the void swallowed my cry. There was no one to hear me, only the silent walls echoing my refusal.
My pain and profound disappointment filled my cry, as if all my hopes and dreams had vanished. I awoke from the nightmare to find the Master of Ceremonies looking at me, his gaze emotionless, serious, and unwavering. He gestured for me to get off the table and raise my hand to show the Life Bracelet to the crowd, to reveal the truth. A deep fear coiled in my stomach as I raised my hand, dreading what I might see.
I whispered in disbelief,
‘Oh, gods… it’s green. My Life Path… Builder.’
My heart seemed to stop. The world around me faded to silence. All I could see was the green glow around my wrist, announcing the end of my lifelong dream of being a warrior and beginning a reality I hadn’t chosen.
The Master of Ceremonies announced,
‘Your Life Path has been chosen as builder. Go to the Builder Leader for guidance and instruction.’
His words seemed to come from a great distance, muffled and heavy, as if I were hearing them from across a vast chasm. I felt like I was watching myself from outside my body, descending from the platform with heavy, numb steps, unsure where I was going or what I was doing. I felt disoriented, like I was dreaming or having a nightmare. I was Luca, lost to myself… no longer Luca the warrior, but Luca the Builder.
A profound emptiness, a sweeping sadness, washed over me, as if something inside me had broken. The dream I had lived for was over, leaving a deep wound in my heart. I tried to comprehend what had happened, but my mind rejected this new reality. I wondered how I would face this unprepared-for reality, how I would carry the burden of a life I hadn’t chosen. Each step felt like a weight on my shoulders, as if my future had transformed into a heavy load, binding me, preventing me from dreaming of the freedom I had always sought.
© Faris S. J. 2024. All rights reserved.