Chapter 2

  Night descended over the desert like a soft held breath.

  The air was warm but gentle, carrying the smell of sand, smoke, and roasted meat. In the heart of the small village, a fire crackled lightly, its orange light flickering across faces filled with laughter and quiet stories. Sparks drifted upward into a sky thick with stars, and the low hum of distant wind wove itself through the murmur of voices. Beyond the warmth of the fire light, shadows stretch, far across the dunes. Every few breaths, someone glanced towards the abyss outside of the village, as if waiting for something, or someone.

  At the edge of the village stood the dojo, a squat building of mudbrick of various patched over colours, hiding a history of battles and clashes. Timbers varying in colours leaning with the weight of the years. Lamps glowed within, flickering like fire flies trapped in glass. The glow trembling against walls scored by old strikes. Two shadows stand tensed inside the dojo.

  Cid’s fists blurred against the heavy bag.

  Sweat ran down his neck, his chest rising and falling in a hard, steady rhythm. Every punch cracked through the silence like thunder.

  Across from him, Keno watched with arms folded, his expression carved from equal parts pride and challenge.

  “Keep your feet moving, Cid,” Keno barked. “Don’t stop. The second you let your guard down.” Keno stops and pauses resting in silence remembering the day Slaten fell. “We learned that the hard way.” Cid's gaze flicks to the patchwork wall, deep gouges scarred the mudbrick. No one had repaired it. No one ever would, because those scars are history, a story that Slaten endurred an attack.

  “Yes, my lord,” Cid panted, refusing to slow.

  Strength made sense to him. Speed made sense. precision, momentum.

  People did not. They were unpredictable. Slow, weak, and yet. They were the ones that he couldn't protect.

  He pushed harder, jabs, hooks, a snapping uppercut that whistled through the air. The bag swung wildly on its chain.

  Then Cid pivoted, twisting his entire body into a single explosive kick.

  The chain above gave a sharp metallic creak. The world seemed to slow in that moment, the air thickened and then the chain, with an audible ting noise. The heavy bag tore free and flew across the room, slammed into the far wall before bursting open. Sand poured across the floor in a pale, hissing stream.

  Keno followed it with his eyes, sighed, and let out a small laugh.

  “Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I suppose that ends our session for today.”

  His turned back to Cid with a grin. “Tomorrow you’ll be eighteen, which means I can finally stop going easy on you.” His smile faded slightly. “The world starts looking at you differently after that.”

  Cid chuckled nervously, the pause in his step as Cid contemplates what he meant, walking over and resting a hand on his mentor's shoulder.

  “You don’t have the strength to do that.”

  Keno’s eyes flashed. Then both men laughed, the sound followed them out into the open night, where the campfire cast a halo of warmth around the village. An old villager arched around with a sudden glare towards them.

  The elders keep a watchful eye over the village a cautious eye. They feel aware of the history pressing, a time when this village stood somewhere else.

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  No walls surrounded the village as last time the walls made no difference. Now all remains is dunes and outposts guarded by patrols keeping a watchful eye. A village rebuilt in hope that the Shoven wouldn't bother returning.

  Rarely. But every now and again, a village just disappears, simply vanishes. No smoke. No bodies. No story left to be told, just empty homes filled with food left to turn bad. Just silence.

  Cid walked straight to the fire, where a young woman sat with her knees drawn close, silver hair shimmering in the firelight.

  She looked up as he approached, a smile curving her lips.

  “Evening, Mercury,”

  She leaned over and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “You’re late,”

  “Training ran long.” He puffed out his chest with mock pride. “But it was great! I think I’m finally ready to take on Keno.”

  He didn't add the thought that had been gnawing at him all day.

  Speed doesn't matter if you didn't know where you're running.

  Mercury raised a brow. “You mean, finally ready to lose to Keno.”

  He laughed. “We’ll see about that.”

  Her expression softened. “Well, whatever happens, I can’t wait to see it. But you should rest, big day tomorrow.”

  “I know.” He leaned back on his hands, staring into the flames. “You’re right, Mercury. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She smiled, stood, and disappeared into the shadows of the buildings, built in crescents, giving a clear line of sight.

  Another figure approached the fire.

  Cid smelled the drink before he saw it.

  “Is this piece of ground taken?” Lauren asked, holding two steaming mugs.

  Cid sat up, eyes lighting up at the smell. “Is that... warm Joko?”

  “Of course it is,” She handed him one “Might be your last one for a while.” She tried to smile, but it broke halfway.

  He frowned, taking the cup. “Last one? What do you mean?”

  “Nothing,” she said quickly, staring into her drink. She goes quiet for a second too long. “Just your mum being silly.”

  But Cid had spent eighteen years reading the tiny shifts in her face. The way her smile thinned when she was worried. The way she avoided his eyes.

  “Mum… are you crying?”

  Lauren sniffled, looking away toward the dunes. The firelight caught the glint of wetness on her cheek.

  “It’s just...” She exhaled slowly, words catching like threads. “You’ve become so strong. So independent. You’re not my little Sydney anymore.” Her voice softened to a whisper. “You’re growing up, and things are going to change.”

  “This world, it needs men like you, it won't leave you alone.” She whispered wiping a tear off of her cheek.

  She stood abruptly and pressed the mug into his hands.

  “Mum?” he called after her.

  But she was already gone.

  Cid sat there a long time, the taste of Joko suddenly bittersweet.

  Above him, a shooting star carved a streak of light across the sky, brief, brilliant, and gone before he could think to make a wish. It didn't fade. It burned low and steady, vanishing somewhere behind the towering dunes.

  “Yeah,” he murmured, setting the cup down. “I better get some sleep.”

  He stood, brushing sand from his clothes, and gave a few lazy waves to the others by the fire.

  His house waited at the edge of the village, half buried in the dunes, lamps glowing faintly within.

  At the doorway he paused glancing once more at the endless desert horizon.

  Endless. Silent. Waiting.

  Somewhere out there, he thought, something was moving, something waiting for him.

  For the first time in his life, he wondered whether being fast would be enough.

  Tomorrow would bring his eighteenth birthday.

  And nothing would ever be simple again.