One Night

Chapter Thirty One

Alara

I think I might be sick. The air here feels heavy and unfamiliar, like a deep sigh that hangs in the atmosphere, unreleased. Stepping out into the streets, I clutch the book I stumbled upon tightly under my arm, finding solace in its tangible presence.

There are more people out here now. I don't know why. A loud voice calls out over the city, in the same unfamiliar language.

I had say inside that store, half staring at the unconscious man and half trying to figure out the book I have in my possession. It spoke of a society governed by equality—where everyone dresses alike, resides in identical houses, and receives equal salaries. The concept leaves me yearning for a broader understanding of the world. It makes me miss Zayen. Since he grew up in the palace, he might possess insight into my location based on the information within this book. Yet, unlike him, I lack a formal education.

In simpler terms, I feel utterly foolish and out of place, like an ill-fitting thread amidst an intricate tapestry.

As I wonder the streets, the vibrant energy that now floods along with the waves of people, who all seem to be going to the same place, I trip over the stream of water that cuts through the streets, separating the road from the sidewalk. My foot is immediately soaked and I leg out a frustrated groan. Why is this even here?

A little farther along the road, a peculiar creature resembling a fish glides gracefully through the stream. Its creamy hue, adorned with brown stripes, and its ethereal, string-like tail add to its otherworldly aura. Wow, I am so glad to have refrained from drinking the water, for nothing within the book's pages mentioned the existence of these creatures.

Even the strange crab-thing from before. I may have seen a tiny crab on the beach once, long ago. My dad had an obsession with the ocean, from what I can remember.

But it had never been anything like the one I'd seen earlier.

The presence of this strange things only serves to further alienate me from the familiarity of home, amplifying the longing for my mother.

It feels like I am a puppet on strings, but the strings are being pulled in different directions and it's starting to rip me apart from inside.

Nestled between two pristine, white buildings, I stumble upon a small, cascading fountain. Its centerpiece, an astonishing sculpture of an open book, is unexpected. Usually men like to carve themselves onto fountains; I've never seen a book  being placed with such importance before.

The fountain's water dances and twirls, cascading in delicate ribbons that release the faintest mist. The sensation of these droplets upon my skin rejuvenates and invigorates, offering a momentary respite from the unpredictable journey I am constantly forced to follow. The rhythmic splashing of water allows me to breathe and think better.

Carefully, I position myself to remain hidden from prying eyes, and sit to read.

As I delve back into the pages, each turn reveals more fragments of a broken puzzle. For all its revelations, it only deepens my curiosity.

There is something that occurs here called the Night Trials—a sort of competition where the people here work to complete different tests and trials.

My heart quickens with a blend of anticipation and trepidation. Where would I even begin? The weight of uncertainty hangs heavily upon my shoulders, my fingers lingering on the worn pages, eager to unearth the answers hidden within.

Maybe my education wasn't so bad after all. I am grateful for the fundamental skills I have acquired—reading, swimming, and the ability to navigate the basics of life. It has gotten me this far.