Ishtar woke up with a start; morning had arrived. He looked at the clock next to the bookshelf. He had woken up quite early. It was 5:00 AM. Since it was Sunday, he and his father wouldn't be opening the shop today. He lay back down, but because he had gone to bed early the night before, he couldn't fall back asleep. He got out of bed, pulled back the purple curtains, stepped onto the balcony, and gazed at the sea horizon.
He thought about what to do today, but no ideas came to mind. So, he decided to play the "Wheel of Fortune" game. In this game, he would draw a wheel on a piece of paper and place a pen in the center. Whatever the pen pointed to would be what he did that day.
After drawing the wheel, Ishtar wrote the following options in the sections:
Go to the bar mentioned by the mysterious woman.
Go to the library on Postal Street.
Wander the city streets.
Go to the forest and gather mushrooms.
Stay home and spend time with family.
After writing these down, Ishtar placed his pen on top of the wheel. He desperately didn't want the first option—going to the bar—to be chosen; he prayed to the gods for luck. Ishtar spun the pen. His heart pounded as the pen slowed down... and stopped.
Oh no!
It pointed to the bar option.
What should he do? He could be killed by mysterious cultists, but he had never once violated the rules of the Wheel of Fortune. He placed a hand on his chest, a look of determination appearing on his face.
"I will do it," he said.
But it was too early to go. Since everyone was asleep, all the shops in the city were closed. He sat in his favorite spot on the balcony and continued reading his novel from where he left off.
After a while, it was 7:00 AM. Ishtar decided to surprise his mother. Nera usually woke up around 7:30 to prepare breakfast. Today, he went down to the kitchen before her and prepared breakfast himself. He decided to make Nera's favorite cinnamon pancakes.
Suddenly, a lovely scent of cinnamon wafted from the kitchen. Nera got out of bed, while Andor was still asleep. She caught a whiff of the smell; it was cinnamon. It was coming from downstairs. Nera quickly fixed her messy hair in front of the mirror and went down.
Ishtar was in the kitchen. Seeing that he had made her favorite pancakes, her angelic smile appeared on her face. She approached Ishtar with slow steps and covered his eyes with her hands.
"Guess who?"
"My beautiful mother, of course!"
Nera uncovered Ishtar's eyes. "Yes, it's me!"
Guessing was child's play for Ishtar now, thanks to the technique he had recently learned. In fact, he had sensed Nera coming before she even covered his eyes.
"To what do I owe this surprise, little mister?" Nera asked.
"You wake up early every day and work hard for us, so I wanted to surprise you today," Ishtar replied. "Call Dad, the table is ready, let's eat together."
After Nera woke her husband, they sat at the table. Seeing that Ishtar had already prepared breakfast, Andor patted his son's head with his large hand.
"You are a good son," he said with a beaming face.
Ishtar couldn't understand why his father was stern at times and affectionate at others. What had he been through to have such a turbulent personality? Suddenly, he remembered the conversation he had with his master in his dream last night. Where had his father learned that martial art, and why had he gone on a journey? To satisfy his curiosity, he asked his father:
"Dad, remember you told me you went on a long journey? Why did you feel the need to go on such a trip?"
After thinking for a moment, his father replied, "Actually, back then, I went on that journey primarily to know myself and improve myself. Later, I experienced many things, both good and bad. That journey made me who I am today. If you ask what its biggest contribution was, I suppose it was meeting your mother. Isn't that right, dear?"
Nera blushed and lightly punched Andor's shoulder. "Oh honey, you're exaggerating."
Ishtar pondered his father's answer for a while. Actually, he wanted to go on a journey like Andor too, but now was not the time; he still had things to do in this city. After thinking for a moment, he asked the other question lingering in his mind:
"Hmm, I see... So, that martial art you taught me... Umm, what was its name? Yes, Asakirna! How did you learn that martial art, Dad?"
Andor suddenly frowned. Not a trace of his happy demeanor remained.
"Actually, learning Asakirna stems from a rather unpleasant event. It is a martial art I created myself. I learned Qi thanks to a friend I made from the Semud tribe of the Timark Desert. His name was, I think... Yes, it was Tirkan. I stayed there for a long time because, coincidentally, my arrival overlapped with the desert's storm year. So, I decided to wait for the storm to subside. I practiced Qi with Tirkan every day of the year I stayed there. I developed this martial art there, but one day while we were walking... we were attacked by Desert Assassins. Tirkan died protecting me because I was too weak... I still can't help but feel sad whenever I think about it."
Andor's face fell, and he slammed his hand on the table. He looked like he was about to cry, but he couldn't look weak in front of his son. Seeing her husband like this, Nera hugged Andor sincerely.
"It's passed, it's over," she said in a soothing voice.
Andor took a deep breath.
"Anyway, back to the topic. Normally, a martial art created by a person is unique to them. When someone else uses it, it leads to the destruction of the user's body. But because you are my son, because you share the same DNA and body structure as me, you were able to learn it. Otherwise, I wouldn't have risked teaching you."
After hearing his father's story, Ishtar felt both sad and satisfied that his questions were answered. A sense of relief washed over him, but also a lingering sadness...
"Thank you for telling me, Dad."
"You're welcome," Andor said. "Actually, I should have told you from the beginning. I'm sorry."
"No, no, I'm the one who should apologize," Ishtar replied.
Andor got up from the table and walked quietly to his room. Ishtar watched his father leave with a sorrowful expression. His broad back, which usually looked massive, seemed to have shrunk this time...
Ishtar stood up and put on his jacket hanging by the door.
"Where are you going, son?" Nera asked.
Ishtar wore a listless expression. Apparently, motivating himself earlier hadn't worked; he was still afraid. And on top of that, he felt completely drained by the story his father told.
"I need to visit a friend," he said.
Nera got up and took a cloth-wrapped item from the kitchen drawer.
"Give this to Arew on your way, son. I forgot to give it to her the other day. Alright then, see you in the evening."
Ishtar took the wrapped item and set off. It was quite sunny today, and he regretted wearing a jacket. He had already started sweating from the heat.
After walking for a while, he arrived at the street where Artun's shop was located. This place was called "Sweets Street." Just as Postal Street was the financial center of the city, this was its entertainment center. All kinds of cafes, restaurants, bakeries, and entertainment venues were located on this street. Unlike Postal Street, instead of the smell of paper and ink, the scents of sweets, coffee, and lavender permeated the air here. The street was quite crowded today; probably because it was Sunday.
His father's story and his sadness still lingered in Ishtar's mind. He was angry at himself for not understanding the grief his father had carried all this time.
Ishtar was lost in thought as he walked through the crowd and the mingling scents. Just then, a shrill voice piercing the hum of the street caught his attention. A small boy was holding up a stack of newspapers and shouting at the top of his lungs:
"Big news! Big news! Hear ye, hear ye, a great disaster!"
Ishtar cut through the crowd and approached the boy. The boy looked a bit dirty, but his eyes shone brightly.
"Can I have a newspaper?" he asked.
Ishtar handed the boy two copper coins from his pocket. The boy snatched the money out of the air, shoved it into his pocket, and excitedly whispered as he handed the newspaper to Ishtar:
"Here you go, brother... A huge fire broke out in the capital, Yggdrasil. Rumor has it that a part of the World Tree was burned!"
Hearing this, Ishtar froze in his tracks. His father's sadness vanished from his mind for a moment, replaced by an indescribable shock. He immediately tore open the pages of the newspaper.
Ishtar looked more closely at the crumpled pages. At the bottom of the news, a symbol found at the scene of the attack was mentioned: "Two intertwined black snakes." The reporter wrote that this symbol was associated with an ancient and dangerous cult called the "Silent Brotherhood."
This wasn't the Black Isotra Cult that had attacked him that day. Seeing this, Ishtar took a deep breath and calmed down; after all, he was heading towards their den, and he still couldn't determine if they were good or bad. But a curiosity gripped him: How many of these cults were there, and what were their goals? To destroy the world? Or conversely, to enslave humanity? Perhaps he would never know; but if there was one thing he was sure of, it was to stand on the side of what was right, no matter what.
Ishtar arrived at Artun's bakery. He didn't want Artun and Arew to see him looking like this, so he put on a fake smile before entering.
Ding ding!
The doorbell rang. Artun was working at the oven as usual. Hearing the bell, he looked back. It was Ishtar, whom he loved like a son. Unlike Ishtar, a genuine smile appeared on his face. Seeing that smile, Ishtar felt a little better.
Artun hugged Ishtar with his flour-covered apron.
"Ohh, look who's here! Do you ever visit this place?"
"Uncle, I'm covered in flour!"
Artun pulled back.
"Sorry, I couldn't help myself when I saw you. Take this cloth, you can wipe the flour off."
"No problem, uncle."
As Ishtar dusted the white powder off himself with the cloth, he heard footsteps coming from the back.
"Only Ishtar would come at this hour," said a familiar, energetic voice. Arew entered with a tray of fresh pastries, but paused when she saw Ishtar. Unlike Artun, Arew's eyes caught the shadow of fatigue beyond Ishtar's fake smile. She frowned as she placed the tray on the counter.
"Are you okay?" Arew asked, her voice suspicious. "You look pale as a ghost. Did you dive into those old books again?"
"Actually," Ishtar said, "last night my father told me about an event that happened to him on one of his journeys. The name was... Tirkan, I think."
Upon hearing the name Tirkan, serious expressions appeared on Artun and Arew's faces. Artun dropped the baker's peel and sat next to Arew and Ishtar on the blue sofa in the corner of the shop.
"Tirkan? Where do you know that name from?"
Ishtar was surprised because he had never seen the affectionate Artun wear such a serious expression.
"Did you know this man named Tirkan?"
After hearing the name, the two fell silent for some reason. Ishtar began to recount what his father had told him last night. They listened silently. Suddenly, veins bulged on Artun's face, and he frowned. He quickly got up from his seat and shouted loudly:
"Did Andor seriously tell you this?"
Arew's face also turned angry, like Artun's.
"Heyy! Why are you shouting? You're scaring the boy for no reason."
Artun suddenly started walking quickly towards the door.
"Where are you going at this hour?" Arew called out.
"I have words for Andor! He promised me he wouldn't tell Ishtar about what happened, and now he's gone back on his word. That man definitely deserves a beating!"
Arew and Ishtar grabbed Artun by his right and left arms to stop him. Artun was a huge man, just like Andor.
"Honey, it's not Andor's fault, calm down. Ishtar was going to find out sooner or later anyway," Arew said.
Ishtar was confused. How did they know Tirkan? And why did Artun get so angry hearing this name?
"Uncle, stop, I asked him first, it was my fault. Sit down, let's talk about this."
Hearing this, Artun took a deep breath and calmed down. He sat back on the blue sofa and began to tell the story of what had happened to them.
"Tirkan was actually my older brother."
Ishtar's jaw dropped.
"Your older brother? What do you mean?"