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Prologue

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…

“Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away.  

And going away means forgetting.”

-J.M. Barrie from Peter Pan

…

Towering skyscrapers dominated the center of Camelot City, reaching towards the sky in bronze and steel, a few clouds slowly moved around them. Beams of light hit the buildings, creating a ripple effect of shimmering rainbows that bounced off the window panes.

The city itself resided a couple of miles from the shoreline of Lake Piasa. The lake waters were calm at this time of the year, water evaporating in slow waves, waves that swayed in the gentle breeze, and a shower of golden arrows beaming down from the heavens.

Beyond the glitz and glamor of Camelot lies the neighborhood of Anansi, a different side of town that lies west to the city and its sleek automobiles, vastly different from its wealthy counterpart.

There, a boy ran as fast as his legs could carry him, praying to whoever might be listening that they hadn’t left now.

‘Will I make it? Please… Let me make it.’

The small boy panted as he skidded to a halt, eyebrows arched in confusion and sadness at the sight of a carriage in front of a bungalow-style home. His pained eyes watched as the driver closed the door, walked back to the front, and hopped down on the leather seat, grabbing the reins of his horses.

Damu gulped in helplessness as the driver got ready to leave before he could say goodbye. 

Sitting aloof on the leather seat, a woman shot him a cold gaze, prompting the small boy to stop and reel back instantly. He arched an eyebrow, questioning, and slowly took a few breaths to calm himself down as he rested a hand on his wildly thumping heart.

He didn’t understand it. 

Why should they move away so soon? It hadn't even been a day since his friend told him about their leave. They were to return to Camlann.

‘Not now, not today… why must it be today?’

The little boy clenched his jaw in response to the thoughts rumbling in his head like thunder and he could feel his eyes and nose heating up.

‘Why can’t it be tomorrow? Or just, never.’

'Why the hurry?'

The more he tried to ignore such questions, the more frequently they came to him like a pile of bricks, flooding and colliding until his head hurt from too much thinking. 

Damu tried his best to ignore the cold gaze of the older woman, it was hard to do so without having to look away from her, but he was determined to find answers at this moment. 

She was probably silently judging him for how he was dressed; wearing only a set of shabby brown clothes that were torn and blotched in several places due to much of his time wearing them. 

Everything used to be so simple, but now it's vastly changing in the blink of an eye.

Gone are the days of childish play and it was time to grow up. 

No more playing in the dirt.

No more climbing up the trees to see who's best.

No getting clothes wrinkled and tracking mud in the house.

Smudges of dirt were all over his thin face after a long day of work as a crossing sweeper. 

His dark brown hair was in a tangled mess. None of those mattered to him at this moment. Not when he was pressed for time.

Damu shoved his uneasiness at the woman and glared at her. 

There was no more a simple cotton shirt with a single pocket on the left, nor a long, white skirt that reached past her knees, nor sandals on her feet. Her hair wasn’t pulled back in a sleek bun, adorned with rows of braids with strands of loose ends poking out. Underneath her eyes weren’t as black as he remembered them to be. He knew about the ongoing insomnia that she had suffered after having to deal with two jobs that often took a toll on her. 

Now, Zahara Buhle Igwe De La Cruz looked different from the times he had known her and her family. 

She was something that came out of a magazine as if she was a stranger from a distant city.

For the first time since the boy had known her, Zahara had chosen something out of her comfort zone and dressed in the finest clothes only those with plenty of spare money could afford. She was stunning in her frilly pinkish-peach gown that covered her feet. If one looked close enough, one could see the light orange heels and a pair of white stockings peeking underneath. Her glossy hair was styled into long, glamorous curls draped over her shoulders.

Zahara’s expression changed into a much kinder and softer look, to not frighten Damu more than she already had. 

Although she loathed the idea of going back to the lifestyle she wished she had put behind her, Zahara had no choice but to go back to her place of birth and have her daughter grow up in a different environment than what she was used to. 

She released a sigh and flashed him a small apologetic smile. Slowly, she started to explain the situation to the boy. 

“I’m truly sorry about this, Damu. I am, but it’s for the best,” she sympathetically said. “It’s not safe for us to live here anymore.”

A pang of guilt washed over her as he observed the boy’s expression becoming dimmer and dimmer. But after the death of her husband, everything began to change right before their eyes. She could no longer keep up with the bill payments, and there was hardly enough food for her to serve four young children.

Nevertheless, she tried her best to provide the best she could, even getting help from the people at Eternal Oasis Church were helping out, but she didn’t want to believe it was the best they could do in the situation they were in.

They had to find a better life; away from here.

Turning her attention to a small little girl next to her, her gloved hands patted a small shoulder lightly, “Kamaria…Damu’s here to say goodbye. Don’t take too long.”

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She watched as the child hopped from her leather seat with a sad expression on her face, ignoring the curious stares of her younger siblings who all sat across from her and Zahara. The older woman smiled as Kamaria peeked her head from the window, pushing away the curtains and keeping her gaze on the boy. Damu’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when he spotted his old playmate, gazing at him. 

'Will she still come to Anansi again?'

“K-Kamaria…I’m going to miss you,” he said meekly, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that they are moving away, “are you going to come back and play with us again?”

The carriage door opened, and Damu took a step back, gazing at the little girl before him. She stood on the steps, her arms behind her back as she stared at him shyly. He couldn’t believe that this was the same Kamaria Imani Rosita Igwe De La Cruz, the little girl who had been his friend ever since they had met a year ago. 

Before she was even introduced to the upper-class circle, Kamaria had always enjoyed her simple life, playing games and getting dirty.

Now that didn’t seem like an option anymore. She would be living in a wealthy neighborhood with people she had never met, only knowing them from magazines, shows, and pictures on the AtherNet or newspapers. 

He fought back his growing jealousy inside him and tried to wish the best for her, even if that meant not being in her life anymore. 

Unlike her mother, Kamaria decided to wear a simple cotton blue dress with a pair of Mary Jane shoes, her hair twisted into braids. It was something that Kamaria and her mother compromised on because the stockings she had tried on the other night pinched her legs. 

“I’m going to miss you too, Damu. I wish we could spend another day together but…” She looked down, avoiding her friend’s gaze, who waited for an answer from her. 

“But what, Kamaria? You can’t leave! What about Mbaya, Cressida, Jiya, Kagiso, and Tahira?” He asked, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes as his selfish thoughts finally rolled out of his mouth. He’d thought Kamaria enjoyed her time here in Anansi. Why did everything have to change?

Their friends often come to Anansi during the summer, so while she will be closer to them, she won't be close to Damu or Mbaya. 

‘This isn’t fair!’

He didn’t care about being composed at this point and allowed the tears to fall freely from his eyes.

Kamaria gazed into her friend’s emerald green eyes. 

She knew Mbaya was disappointed and sad that she was moving away for good, with no possibility of returning.

‘Damu…is he here to say goodbye or…’

The little girl was happy but assumed it was only one of the many reasons why he came. 

Another was to get away from his family.

She recalled when her father was alive; he would do all that he could to help him when his mother wasn’t.

‘Right… I lost a father, but I’m sure Damu also felt a huge loss.’

Knowing that Damu’s the youngest one in his family, he’s probably doted on by his parents, but his older brother never liked him. Kamaria had met his older brother, Belial, a couple of times, and he had always shown his hatred towards him even when she was around. Kamara reprimanded the older boy for his behavior, lecturing him that he should be nicer to Damu. 

‘I hope their relationship will become  better.’

Deciding to stop her wandering mind, Kamaria returned to the present.

“I’ve talked to my grandparents about letting you guys come over every other weekend if we’re not busy with anything,” she gently assured him, resting a hand on his shoulder. The young boy jerked up in surprise and looked directly into her eyes. His eyes glistened with tears, but his sobs had stopped. “Don’t cry anymore, Damu. Seeing you cry is making me want to cry too.” The girl’s voice cracked.

Damu sniffled, wiping away the remaining tears with his wrist, quickly apologizing. “I-I’m sorry. It’s hard, you know?” 

She nodded, her heart sank at once again his crestfallen expression. 

As her mother pointed out, with a beginning, there’s always an ending. And after an end, there’s always another beginning. 

Kamaria swallowed a lump in her throat, fighting back the tears that began to form in her eyes. She felt her mother’s eyes on her and it sent a chill down her spine. It was her cue to go.

“Hurry up, Kamaria. We mustn’t keep your grandparents waiting,” Zahara called out from the carriage. “You can video chat with him tonight before you go to bed.”

She fought the urge to huff, glancing at the boy in front of her one last time, turning around, and headed back to the carriage, doing her best to ignore the sadness in Damu’s eyes. The eight-year-old girl plopped down on the leather seat, taking a deep breath.

Zahara glanced at her sympathetically, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Do lighten up, Kamaria, dear. It’s going to take some time to get adjusted but you’ll enjoy it here, too,” she stated. “After all, there will be more children to play with at your new school, so Damu’s going to be a distant memory.”

Kamaria cringed at the mention of that, she pouted slightly in annoyance.

‘Adults and their occasional heartlessness. I won’t just forget my friends that simply.’ 

Damu has always been a polite kid. Respectful toward his elders, he never once talked badly about anybody and made him a good friend. He even defended her from neighborhood bullies several times, and when they first met, he was aggressive towards her and Cressida because he’d thought they were a threat until he realized they were just normal children.

But no matter, she had to put this and him behind her.

From confusion to crying, it will take a while for them to adjust to their new surroundings. It was indeed natural, after all, and part of growing up. 

“Are you going to be alright, Kamaria?” Santiago, her younger brother, asked.

Kamaria sucked in a deep breath and gazed back at him, a small and crooked smile forming across her face, doing her best to fight back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. No words were spoken to her brother or sisters; instead, she looked away from them and concentrated on the changing scenery outside. She rested her hand on the ledge, her palm resting on her chin.

Zahara closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, her hands resting firmly on her lap.

“Don’t worry, dear. Everything’s going to be alright, and I promise you can see Damu again,” she coaxed, doing her best to comfort her and ease her pain “Fate has always brought two people together if it’s meant to be.”

Those words stuck to Kamaria like glue. And that day, a small smile crept across her face at the thought of meeting Damu again as the days, weeks, and years passed.

...

A pair of eyes snapped open, trying to adjust to their surroundings. They were a dark shade of emerald green, similar to those on the old leaves of a tree. A scar ran across his left eye. 

He lifted his muscular arms, stretching. A black sleeveless shirt and baggy dark gray pajama pants wrapped his fit figure. 

This pattern of memory-like dreams had been occurring for the past two weeks, and he never understood why they suddenly appeared now. It frustrated him to the core; to see the same little girl chatting with his younger self and then waking up afterward. 

‘It’s been 8 years since that time, huh…’

On some nights, he would dream about seeing a mysterious young woman standing on top of a balcony, calling him and asking him to find the so-called Legendary Silver Crystal, though he had not seen or heard about the object before. It had become his most recent obsession. 

He had witnessed the destruction of an entire kingdom in other dreams, which appeared more frequently. He saw how countless lives were lost. Standing in the middle of the battlefield, a beautiful black-haired woman was distraught and sobbing. 

It drove him crazy to see how the poor lady looked each night, and he wished he could embrace her in a hug to comfort her. Still, he would always wake up before he managed to do so. Seeing that child morph into a mysterious, faceless woman time and again without knowing why; he knows it’s taking a toll on him. Dark circles began to form underneath his eyes due to a lack of sleep. 

He brushed his fingers through his unruly brown hair, another yawn escaping his lips. He fell back on his mattress. The gravity seemed to have more power over him than it should; he facepalmed and let out an audible groan. 

‘It’s been 8 years… I should just forget about her.’

The only one who seemed to ask about him was his sister, Mbaya expected her observant manner, and she noticed immediately.

His mother, Yurena, had started to notice how tired he was, but despite this, she still pushed him hard in his training and he often hated it. Even on some nights when he can go to sleep, they only last for two hours and he would have to get up, leading him to become cranky and irritable throughout the day. Sometimes after his training, he visited Cressida and complained about how exhausted he was, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her about the dreams.

 He wasn’t the only one feeling a loss over that girl’s move.

Cressida noticed how stressed and worn out he was and often encouraged him to get some proper sleep, but he refused to do so for fear of seeing those dreams and memories again. 

So far, he believed they were telling him that something was coming. But he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I’ll worry about it later,” he chastised, pulling the covers over him and allowing sleep to overtake him once again.