EMBER

Chapter 3

The Noble

His shadow appeared in the narrow passage as he entered a tight space they called a quarter. It had been their home for almost two decades now; a house with no proper ceiling, a room with no windows. Only the cold stonewalls now turned warm and humid divided the forty thousand dwellers, reduced as years passed by. No lavish vines or wild flowers crawled upon it but only rocks hardened through the years from calciums and mineral deposits—sprouted from the wrenched ceiling to the kibbled floor.

Ember got mesmerized when he looked up to find the sharp spiraling rocks that glistened above his head. He stared at them in awe. They flourished in here, he examined. His dark chamber did not have this kind of delicate formation as he would recall.

"Come on, in. Don't be shy. My mother and my father are not awake yet. Perhaps we'll share a cup of boiling soup when they will," he said as he gazed back to check Ember. He saw his eyes gleamed under his black bushy brows along with the burning flame of the torch he was holding. The color matched the serene waves of the ocean that sparkled with the radiate heat of the sun. It had been a long time since he visited an ocean. His mother would always bring him near the shore after her afternoon tea to catch some breeze, but he was still a baby then. The memories he had could barely be reminisced.

"Is that you, Rigel?" asked a man with a coarse voice, panting in his mid-lit room. His blanket made of cotton, soaked wet, crunched every time he snuggled while sharing the warmth to his wife beside him. "Are you home?"

It was hard to learn what he said at the very beginning. He coughed a ton between the words he uttered.

"Yes, father," he replied.

He looked away from Ember to see that his ill father was trying to get up from his cold bed. He knew that he will be awake once he heard his voice.

He untangled the sack from his back. Heavy as his slender body could lift, he put the sack away with fragile care. He approached his father with ease. His knees touched the cold floor. "Careful, father," he asked as he shoveled his hands down the blanket to reach his back. His flesh on his thin skin stretched like rubber on the blanket, wet like a rotting tomato when touched.

"My apologies. I do not intend to wake your father up," Ember said outside the quarter. He peeked from the entrance to see the shadows of the loving father and son. His eyes scanned the room further. He could barely see anything as the torches burnt dim. "I must go," he excused himself.

"Stop right there!" Rigel advised with light thunder voice. He saw Ember almost flew away, terrified. He got up from the cold floor when his father finally seated comfortably, then followed him at the doorway. His father had no clue that they had a guest. He asked who it was.

I needed to go now, Ember whispered behind his gritted teeth. If he would stay longer, no one would look after his bedridden mother. She needed to be fed soon. Hours had passed since he was away. But Rigel walked fast after him and pulled his arm when reached. "His name is Ember, father. And he will be joining us for dinner," he announced.

Ember looked at him sharply straight to his brown protruding eyes. His eyes, sharp like wolf, gleamed along the flaring torch. "What are you saying? I must return home now. I have to attend my mother's needs," Ember insisted in a low voice, careful enough so the sick man inside the quarter shall not hear. His hand clenched, soon nestled to the young man's chest.

"Very well, Ember. Come on, in," Rigel's father asked dearly. He attempted to get up but the gods forbid him. His failing body weighed double himself, and it ached. "Is he a new recruit? I never heard of that name before. Ember, what a lovely name. Is he in the new brotherhood now?"