5:45 a.m.
By the edge of a translucent stream, whose clear water trickled over pebbles polished by time, Kai slowly knelt down. He plunged his hands into the cool water, splashing his face several times, as if trying to extinguish an invisible fever. But nothing worked: the nightmare played on a loop in his mind, relentless.
He took a deep breath, rubbed his cheeks again, then sat on a flat stone, arms hanging loosely. The morning silence enveloped him, light, almost too calm.
His gaze lost in the immensity of the sky still tinged with indigo, Kai murmured:
Kai: …So, is this when I stop?
I can't go on anymore…
His words vanished into the murmur of the water. He remained frozen, almost statue-like, for a long while. Then he resumed, more softly, as if confessing to the dawn itself:
Kai: I…
He lowered his head. Something inside him was weakening.
Kai (barely audible): I can't go on…
I can't do anything about it… I can't change anything…
I am… too weak.
His legs folded slowly toward him, an instinctive retreating gesture. Head down, silence. Not a word.
Then he gently lifted his eyes.
And the day rose.
The horizon split with golden and purple hues. The sky blazed with a peaceful brilliance, as if the world wanted to remind him that it remained beautiful despite everything. Mythical birds — with wings of mist and iridescent feathers — emerged from the night's veil. They danced slowly in the air, tracing spirals around the first sun rays. Their crystalline songs resonated like forgotten prayers.
Kai closed his eyes for a moment. He breathed. A little more deeply.
In the rooms of the Dragon-Men's domain, the atmosphere was heavy yet peaceful at the same time. Salomé was seated between two beds, vigilantly watching over her brothers still plunged in their coma. She had not moved for hours. Rivhiamë stood by her side, as silent as she was.
Finally, in a soft voice, Salomé broke the silence:
Salomé: I wonder what they might be facing… over there, inside their minds.
Rivhiamë answered without looking away:
Rivhiamë: Themselves, surely. Who they are. Or what they refuse to see.
A subtle creak diverted their attention. The large stone door creaked open slowly.
Kai entered, somewhat hesitant. His gaze met Salomé's. He gestured toward the exit with a nod.
Kai: You. Can I talk to you… for a moment?
Salomé stood up quietly, saying nothing. Then she simply replied:
Salomé: Of course.
I'm coming.
In the corridor, a heavy silence.
Kai and Salomé walked side by side. Then, suddenly, Kai stopped.
Salomé (curious): You wanted to talk to me, Kai? What's going on?
Kai (firm voice): I'm stopping here. I'm going back to the World of Existence.
Salomé (stunned): What?!
Kai (not looking away): You'll tell Ysolongue that I left. And that, probably, we will never see each other again. I have no intention of coming back here.
Salomé (hurt look): But… why? Why such a radical decision?
Kai lowered his eyes, avoiding her gaze. A brief, heavy silence.
Kai (coldly): I have no reason to explain it to you...
He turned on his heel, ready to leave.
But Salomé held him by the wrist, gently but firmly.
Salomé (insistently): Kai, wait... You're not going to tell me it's still because of what you saw... That demon… Raktabīja Rāvana, is that it?
Kai tensed. His whole body betrayed a tension he tried to contain.
Kai (nervous, almost trembling voice): You can't understand. You speak, yes. But you don't know… You know nothing of what I saw.
He slowly withdrew his arm, as if wanting to detach not just from her, but from everything.
Salomé did not move. She watched him calmly, her gaze deep and steady.
Salomé (softly): Maybe… Maybe I don't understand. And maybe I will never know what you saw.
But Kai… You're going to give up everything for that? Just for that? Is that your choice?
Kai stood frozen. Silence returned, heavier than before.
Kai (voice more weary than harsh): You can't understand, Salomé...
He finally looked away, as if fleeing something within himself. But he didn't leave. Not yet.
Salomé: Kai… I know I don't really know you. I don't know what drives you to act like you do, nor what you're truly seeking. You are closed off, distant… almost elusive. But if you've reached this point, wanting to give up everything, it means you've given up on what you wanted to become.
She paused, softening her voice.
Salomé: Kai… please. Could you… just open up a little? Tell me what's eating away at you? Who you really are? This silence, this anger… it hides something, I feel it. Maybe a past too heavy. A burden you carry alone…
Kai (abruptly): Shut up.
Salomé widened her eyes, frozen. The harshness of his voice echoed in the corridor.
Kai: You're just a kid. Even if you grow fast… What do you think you can do for me, huh? You think words will suffice?
Salomé lowered her eyes, clenched her fists.
Salomé: You know… life hasn't been kind to me either. It forced me to mature faster than expected. To absorb things I didn't even understand yet. And yet I'm here, standing… facing you. I don't pretend to know everything. But if you give me a chance, just one… I can listen to you. I can help you. Or at least try.
Kai: And… what if you can't do anything?
She grabbed his hands. A gentle warmth passed through Kai's skin, soothing, almost unreal.
Salomé: Then I'll stay there. Because I refuse to believe there's a problem without an answer. If you don't find a way out, maybe it's just… that you're looking the wrong way. Or that you're searching alone where two are needed.
Kai remained silent. He looked up at her. She smiled softly, sincerely. Her golden eyes met his, without fear or judgment.
Kai: Very well... I'll tell you everything.
He lifted his eyes to the sky, as if seeking strength in the stars, then let his voice fall into the shadow of his memories.
Kai: A long time ago... my mother was pregnant with me.
She was about to give birth in an old, dilapidated barn, abandoned by all but those who had dragged her there. Around her, people pressed — not with care, but with cruel impatience. Men, women. No look of compassion. Just the cold order to hurry.
You must understand something: where I was born, there were no heated beds, no doctors, not even clean sheets.
It was a land where slavery was not a page of the past: it was the law.
People like my mother — black women, poor — were not considered human beings. They were bodies to rent out, to break, to use.
My mother was working in the fields when it happened.
A guard, the one who was supposed to watch over the harvest, just threw her to the ground. He said nothing to her. He just... took her. Like one seizes an object. She screamed, of course. She begged. But there was no one to hear. Or rather, no one to care.
There, it was normal.
Men were beasts of burden, women objects of service — fields, households... and rapes.
That's how I came into the world: in the pain of a mother who never wanted me.
When she gave birth, she wasn't even allowed to touch me.
No skin on skin, no gaze, no sweet words.
They tore me from her like a fruit thrown into a dirty basket.
They took me to a pen... a pen filled with children like me. Children of rape. Children of shame.
We were not fed. We were thrown where the pigs were.
Literally.
We had to suckle their milk to survive. And if the pig was hungry… sometimes a baby vanished. Sometimes two.
And no one cried.
No one came to get them.
Salomé brought her hand to her mouth, frozen, deeply moved by what she had just heard.
Salomé: That's… that's horrible.
Kai looked away, his gaze lost in memories too heavy, then resumed in a darker voice.
Kai: On my third birthday, I had some "luck." I was among the few children who survived the pig's suckling. Once weaned, my new job was to fight for the waste thrown to those same pigs. Yes, we were made to face garbage… literally. Every piece of rot became a battle. None of us wanted to die of hunger. Even at that age, we fought with teeth and fists over a moldy crust or a fruit peel. No mercy. No rules.
One day, I managed to snatch a chewed-up piece of corn. I wanted to get away to eat it alone, in peace. That's when they arrived.
Those who enslaved us.
They saw me. One of them pointed at me and said, "That one is already good."
He approached, grabbed me without a word, then chained me. Chains on my ankles. Electrified collar around my neck. If I wandered more than five hundred meters from one of them… you can imagine what came next.
They paraded me on a leash, naked as a worm, like an animal. It was my first time out of the barn. My people watched me pass. Their faces were extinguished. Dead inside. Their eyes all said the same thing: "Another one who will taste hell."
I was taken to an office, clean, too clean. A man was seated there. Trimmed beard, white outfit, hands folded. He stared at me with the superiority only masters know how to express.
He examined me from head to toe: skinny, dirty, naked. Then he said:
"So, little one, I've been told you know how to fight for your scraps. Show me your muscles."
I understood nothing. I was never taught to speak. The only sounds I knew were those of pigs. At least, they had raised me.
The man raised his arms, flexed his biceps as if showing me an example. He mimed, gestured. I finally understood: he wanted me to imitate him. So I did.
He smiled. Then he told the guards, satisfied:
"Leave. He's good. Teach him to read, to write. At six, he'll go work like the others."
And that's how it started.