Gilded Truth

Chapter Three

A full stop. This signifies the end of every sentence. An end of every story told by an author. Even if we don't want things to end, we cannot deny that it will inevitably happen because chapters close, the story ends, and life goes on. But I do wonder when will this oppressive system come to a full stop? When will the lives of the likes of us go on? As I put my pen down, another story comes to a halt, hiding in a fake identity to protect my own life.

I look out of the horizon. The golden rays of the sun-kissed, tall skyscrapers glisten like silver in the morning. The city enveloped in the darkness slowly comes to life, the way every day we can witness the rise of the sun and a new tomorrow. I've been writing the whole night, pondering about the truth that I would want to prevail in the long run. Maybe, just maybe, if my father was still here, he could have taught me his ways.

Ivo left my room by dawn as we planned through our plans. We thoroughly studied our expenses over the past few months and planned how we would efficiently disburse our limited funds and resources. We cannot afford to waste our resources, we have to plan everything thoroughly. I stand up from my seat and walk toward my bed, removing my socks and laying flat on the bed. The humming of birds starts to emanate in my surroundings as the gold flecks of the sun touch every crevice it could touch. Half of my room is illuminated by it but the side of my bed stays in the shadow. Even the brightest light could never reach those where the shadows live.

I live in the shadows for years now, hiding in the dark as I try to lighten up and pave the path I want to take in the future. Paving a path for all of us. I want to see this country free from the darkness that I am in—no more hiding from those who are supposedly the ones protecting us. I want a nation with people who are brave enough to call out the corrupt practices in the system. It is a euphoric thought, a nation we were close to having till the darkness overshadowed it—all of it crumbled.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Sweats cascade down my arms as I swing my dagger, aiming and lunging straight to the wind. With every swing I do, the wind responds with a swishing sound. I throw the dagger in my hand toward the dummy made of hay in front of me, it hit its right shoulder. Using my left hand, I throw out another dagger, but this time it misses. I grit my teeth as I walk toward the dummy and pull the dagger out of the dummy's shoulder and onto the ground.

My hair falls on my right shoulder, some of it sticking on my already sweaty body. "You want a sparring partner?" I wipe the daggers with my pants and look toward Ivo. He's wearing a black tank top and jogging pants, his pants tucked inside his boots. His hair on its usual slicked look. He walks toward the table and takes a dagger made of wood. I put my daggers back in their holsters. I know he won't spar with me using real weapons, afraid of hurting anyone, so we usually spar using wooden weapons. He tosses the other wooden dagger to me and my fingers run through its edges. It's rough, bumpy even. The wooden weapons are worn out, it is evident that we are working hard for the freedom we all wanted. To a brighter future for our nation.

We may be viewed as renegades, an enemy of the state, but we are nothing but a group of people who have a dream for this country. Unlike those who are in power who think nothing but how to be powerful and their crooked practices. We are the victims here of lies, deceptions, and misinformation. We train with all our hearts for our dear lives and our nation's hopes.

I toss the wooden dagger in the air, it flips midair and lands perfectly in my gloved hand. Ivo stands in front of me, his caramel eyes watching me, with his hand gripping the wooden dagger. I am familiar with his stance and the way he holds the dagger, he will surely do this training swiftly. I am well aware that I will never be on par with his brute strength, he's good in terms of hand-in-hand combat. A small smile grows on his lips as his eyes narrow. Without warning, he lunges straight at me.