The late afternoon sun cast a golden haze over the sprawling, dust-choked compound of the Duro family in Boron town, Kharona, 1965. A Chevrolet Biscayne, its chrome trim dulled by a fine layer of road grit, rumbled up the dirt path, its engine humming with quiet menace. Okai, leaning against a weathered wooden pillar on the porch of the family's modest home, straightened, his dark eyes narrowing with calm scrutiny as the car approached, its tires crunching over the parched earth.
Jina, a wiry twelve-year-old with a mop of untamed hair, flung open the passenger door and leapt out, his scuffed leather shoes kicking up clouds of dust. He sprinted toward Okai, his face splitting into a wide grin that revealed small, uneven teeth. "Okai, our brother now drives a car!" he shouted, his voice brimming with childish pride, hands waving wildly as if heralding a parade.
Okai remained silent, his gaze locked on the driver's door, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Damak emerged with deliberate grace, his tall frame filling the forest-green uniform of the Kharona Investigation Union, its creases sharp despite the oppressive heat. His polished boots stirred faint puffs of dust with each step, and the faint clink of a medal pinned to his chest caught the fading light. He carried himself with the quiet authority of a man accustomed to being watched.
Okai's eyes widened for a heartbeat, betraying a flicker of awe, before he masked it with a wry smirk. "You must be skilled at drawing every eye in Boron," he said, tilting his head toward the neighbors' houses, where curious faces pressed against cracked windowpanes. "How will you explain to them you've borrowed a government car to parade through our dusty streets?"
Damak's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile as he rested a steady hand on Okai's left arm. "I'll have no need to explain, brother, when the truth reveals its rightful owner. You'd do well to learn when congratulations are in order."
Okai snorted, stepping forward to inspect the Biscayne, his fingers brushing the warm, polished metal of its hood. "Brother, you are not rich," he said, turning sharply to face Damak, his voice edged with skepticism. "Nor am I, nor is our family. I won't accuse you of stealing, not with your saintly government badge and your hero's posture, but I'm not so easily deceived by this display."
"Deceived?" Damak's laugh was low, warm, unshaken by Okai's barb. "It moves the heart of the government that we in the Investigation Union risk our lives pursuing those violent clans that plague Kharona."
Okai's brow arched, his arms folding tighter. "And what of it?"
Damak's smile softened, a glint of pride in his eyes as he squared his shoulders. "I've been raised to Assistant Director of the K.I.U.," he said, his voice steady but weighted with meaning. "The President himself presented me this car, along with a medal for service."
Okai's jaw slackened, a spark of excitement flaring in his chest, though he quickly tempered it. "The President himself? What deeds have you done to earn such favor?"
"You'd need to hear the tales of what we've endured," Damak replied, his tone growing solemn, shadows of unspoken battles crossing his face. He turned toward the house, gesturing for Okai and Jina to follow, his boots echoing faintly on the wooden porch steps.
The narrow hallway inside smelled of aged wood and linseed oil, its walls adorned with faded family photographs. The trio entered the sitting room, where a sagging sofa and worn armchairs sat beneath heavy curtains that stirred in the faint breeze from an open window. Okai walked close to Damak's side, studying his brother's frame. "Your work must be shrinking you," he said, a teasing edge to his voice. "Or am I simply growing taller?"
Damak chuckled, settling into a creaky armchair, its springs groaning under his weight. "You'll be twenty-four next year, yes?"
"Indeed," Okai confirmed, dropping into a chair opposite, his posture relaxed but alert.
"Then you're nearing the age when growth halts," Damak said, leaning back, his hands resting on the chair's arms. "Soon you'll understand why I remain as I am."
Before Okai could reply, a shadow shifted behind him. A small hand darted from the darkness, pressing the cold, curved edge of a blade against his throat. Okai's pulse surged, adrenaline flooding his veins. With a swift, practiced motion, he seized the wrist, twisted it sharply, and flung the attacker forward. Jina sailed over his shoulder, crashing onto the hardwood floor at Okai's feet with a yelp, the blade clattering beside him.
"Okai!" Damak barked, rising from his chair, his voice sharp with reproach. "Must you use your skills on a twelve-year-old boy?"
Okai's heart thundered as he glared down at Jina, then softened, his breath steadying. "Where did you find a loomil blade?" he demanded, his voice low, tinged with shock. "I mistook you for an enemy. Never try that again if you value your life."
Jina, sprawled on the floor, puffed out his chest, undeterred, his eyes gleaming with a warrior's bravado. "Father said loomil blades are found in ancient caves," he declared, scrambling to his feet and brandishing the blade with a flourish. "I read about one in his history book, so I ventured to a cave, faced beast after beast, and triumphed over them all! At last, I reached the forbidden cave no soul dares enter!" He swung the blade near Okai's neck, his small frame trembling with excitement.
"Enough, little rat," Okai snapped, his patience thinning. "I asked a simple question, not for a child's tale."
Damak's gaze hardened, his voice cutting through the room like a whip. "Jina, who gave you that loomil blade?"
Jina's bravado crumbled under Damak's stare, his shoulders hunching as fear crept into his eyes. "I found it in a cave," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "A quiet one, in Oman-nali forest."
Okai and Damak exchanged a glance, their faces etched with shock. "Oman-nali?" Okai asked, his voice sharp. "Where is that?"
Damak pulled Jina closer, his grip gentle but firm, his eyes searching the boy's face. "It's a forest in Itaeh," he said, his tone growing stern. "How did you learn of it? When did you go? Who took you there?" A trace of anger colored his words, his fingers tightening slightly on Jina's arm.
"It's not as fearsome as the histories claim!" Jina protested, his voice quavering. "No beasts, no danger! The cave was silent, eerie, but empty. The loomil blade lay at the far end, buried in dust. I took it and cleaned it."
Okai reached down and plucked the blade from Jina's hand, holding it up to the sunlight streaming through the parlor window. The blade gleamed, its jagged edge resembling the fangs of some ancient predator, while the opposite side was smooth and lethally sharp, curving into a near C-shape. Its handle, carved from a rough, red stone, felt warm and heavy, as if imbued with a strange vitality. "The histories say loomil blades belong to beasts," Okai said, turning to Damak, his voice low with suspicion. "Why, then, was the cave silent as a tomb? What do you know of this?"
Damak reached for the blade, but Okai drew it back, his grip tightening. "It's only the second such blade I've seen," Damak said, his voice calm but measured. "The first we found in the home of a feared clan leader, a man of dark reputation. Our K.I.U. team recovered it after two assassins, likely women, struck in the night. They slew him, his brother, and his only son in their own home. He wielded the blade in defense, but it availed him nothing."
Okai's brow furrowed, confusion clouding his face. "Did the K.I.U. send those assassins?"
"No," Damak replied, his tone firm. "We know not who they were. They left no trace, only death. Neighbors summoned us after hearing the commotion."
Okai's lips curled into a mocking smile as he twirled the blade in his hand. "So, instead of investigating, you and your K.I.U. comrades took the man's blade as a trophy?"
Jina burst into laughter, clutching his sides. "I hope you're not planning to take mine as well!"
Okai's grin turned sharp, his eyes glinting as he studied the blade's wicked tip. "No need for Damak to take it, Jina. It's already mine."
Jina lunged for the blade, his small hands grasping at air. Okai held him at bay with one hand pressed against the boy's forehead, keeping him at arm's length. Jina flailed, then stumbled back, landing on his backside with a scowl, his pride bruised.
"When I was twelve, I played with friends, not chased after dangerous weapons in forbidden caves," Okai said, his tone half-jesting, half-scolding. "If Father learns of this, you'll face his wrath."
Damak, reclining in his chair, watched the exchange with a faint smile, then steered the conversation back. "It's not theft, Okai, but duty. The K.I.U. seizes any war weapon found in civilian hands, unless the bearer is a security agent."
Okai's face soured, his voice dripping with disdain. "Even the military doesn't pursue clans as you do, all to prove your heroism."
Damak's eyes darkened with disappointment. "I see now that Jina may be wiser than you."
"Hero brother," Okai mocked, rising abruptly and striding to his room. Behind him, Damak turned to the old radio on a side table, twisting its dials. The device sputtered to life, filling the room with static-laced voices, the sound garbled and indistinct.
In the heart of Boron town, three young men in their early twenties sat on a long bench near a quiet railway, the air heavy with the scent of dry grass and distant crops. To the left, a small farm stretched toward the horizon, its rows of maize swaying lazily. To the right, a deep, jagged scar in the earth marked a landslide's ruin, its edges crumbling into shadow. Koti, one of the trio, leaned forward, his voice low and troubled. "I cannot fathom why firearms are so rare in Kharona. The government forbids their use, yet some killings here are done with bullets."
Lamuh, his companion, nodded gravely. "The K.I.U. claims the killers hail from Drekai, not our lands."
"Then Drekai permits firearms freely?" Koti asked, his eyes narrowing.
The third youth, picking at a blade of grass, spoke up. "I believe it's because guns are forged in Drekai. Even the arms of our own soldiers are crafted there."
Koti turned, his voice rising with frustration. "The government should arm us, not merely the army. We need protection. Violent crimes grow ever more common, and the military does nothing."
Lamuh's face tightened, his eyes distant. "A month has passed since Zerua vanished, and neither police nor army have found her."
The third youth glanced at Lamuh, his voice heavy. "Can we be certain Zerua yet lives?"
Back at the Duro house, Damak wrestled with the radio's dials, its crackling audio refusing to clear. Okai emerged from his room, now clad in a faded cotton shirt and trousers, a brown shoulder bag slung over one shoulder. He moved toward the door, his steps brisk and purposeful.
Damak's voice halted him. "You're not carrying that loomil blade in your bag, are you?"
Okai turned, his expression resolute. "Of course not," he said. "I'm no security agent, but neither am I a criminal who carries weapons abroad."
Damak stepped closer, his eyes scanning the bag. "You mean to go out unarmed?"
"Yes," Okai replied, a trace of unease in his voice. "What are you suggesting?"
Damak crossed to a wooden shelf in the corner, retrieving a small axe, its handle wrapped in green cloth matching his uniform. He returned and pressed it into Okai's hand. "Take this, keep it in your bag," he said, his voice low but firm. "Kharona is not safe, especially in Boron, for the brother of a security agent to walk defenseless. But leave the loomil blade behind. If the law finds you with it, the consequences will be severe."
Okai accepted the axe, slipping it into his bag while shielding its contents from Damak's view. "I understand, brother," he said, his tone softening as he moved toward the door.
"Stay vigilant," Damak called after him. "Never lower your guard."
"As ever," Okai replied, stepping out into the dusty street, the door creaking shut behind him.
Okai walked through Boron's quiet roads, his face set in a stern, confident mask, the weight of the axe in his bag a faint reassurance. He approached the railway, where the three youths sat, their voices carrying on the evening breeze. Koti spotted him first, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Here comes he who cannot find his missing beloved."
The others fell silent, wary of joining Koti's taunt. Lamuh offered a warm smile, extending a hand. "Okai," he said, shaking his hand and shifting to make space on the bench.
Okai sat, his eyes cold, ignoring Koti's words. "You recall the weapon of the beasts I spoke of? The loomil blade?"
Koti leaned closer, curiosity piqued. "Yes, have you new tidings?"
Okai said nothing, instead reaching into his bag and drawing out the loomil blade, its jagged edge catching the fading light like a predator's fang. Lamuh's eyes widened. "That is the loomil blade?"
Okai nodded, his gaze fixed on Koti, who asked, "How sharp is it?"
In a flash, Okai surged to his feet, seizing Koti by the throat with his left hand and pressing the blade's jagged edge against his neck. "Sharp enough to sever your head if you speak of Zerua again," he snarled, rage boiling in his voice, his grip tightening.
Koti choked, his eyes wide with terror as he hung in Okai's grasp. "Forgive me, Okai, I am your friend, not your foe!" he pleaded, his left hand reaching out in desperation.
Okai's eyes burned with fury. With a swift, brutal slash, he brought the blade across Koti's wrist. The hand flew, landing near the landslide scar, trembling briefly before tumbling into the dark chasm. Koti's scream tore through the air as Okai flung him to the ground, his body crumpling in the dirt.
Lamuh and the third youth stood frozen, horror etched on their faces as Koti writhed, clutching his bleeding stump. Okai loomed over him, the loomil blade glinting in his hand, its surface unmarred by the blood it had spilled. "Have you further questions about the blade?" he asked, his voice cold as the grave.