Eye of Saffiyah |✔️

6

The first thing I notice is the smell of fresh straw. Raw, fresh straw that holds a nostalgic place in my memory. Such an arbitrary detail, I think. Then I remember:

This is wrong.

My eyes fly open to the sight of a barn's interiors. Hazy moonlight (or is it daylight?) creeps through the cracks in the overhead roof, illuminating a row of empty stalls and wooden posts. Unused water barrels are shoved into a corner along with rusty farming tools. There are some crates, and a few rolls of hay, too. That explains the fresh smell. A faint thought nags me at the back of my mind. Where have I seen this before? 

I then notice several figures sitting on piles of lumber on either side of me. I jerk slightly as I notice the familiar silhouettes. 

Breathe in. Out. In. Out. Do not let it escape, I urge myself.

The anger and hatred have long faded away. In their place is sorrow, the only emotion I allow myself to feel whenever my mind flashes back to that fateful day. But have those demons truly disappeared? I need to figure this out. Not now. There is a time and place for that, and this is not one of them.

Surprisingly, they did not restrain me after I must have lost consciousness. I stand, careful not to make any sudden movements. Eyeing the figures, I quickly assess any weapons they have on them. I also spot a single exit in the far left corner. 

"...Where are they?" I ask with a trembling voice. The Hunters remain motionless. I scan the gloom for a pawprint or a tuft of fur. 

"Here."

He steps in from the shadows, holding two crates. From inside, Harun and Hura sit quietly. He gently lowers them onto the ground. "How disappointing. I love my share of animals too, but to think I'm worth less than two desert mutts?" 

I step forward. The first thing I notice is his hair. The contrast of his black streaks to my silver hair illustrates the decade that lies between us. Not only that, but he is taller. Leaner. A red phantom cloak swirls about him, in place of the tattered rag he used to wear as a child. Emblazoned it is the insignia of a skeletal snake. His black-clad clothing gives the impression of a panther as he walks back and forth. And his face...I take in the sharp angles, the crooked smile, and the eyes that have never lost their spark. 

"Sohel," I croak. The word feels foreign on my tongue, a taste that I have known all my life yet is unfamiliar. It is him, I think. Only...it is not. The coldness and the skeletal snake bear no semblance of the brother I once knew. "You...you have changed."

"Mm." He looks at me up and down. You haven't. "Why are you here?"

He sounds genuinely curious—confirming my fears. I take a deep breath, unable to take my eyes off that accursed crimson cloak. "I know-"

He puts up a hand. "That what, you regret all you did and more? That you running away forty years ago was the reason I became a Hunter, despite claiming to care for me? I know that too. I also know that unlike you, we-" he gestures to himself and the other Hunters, "-do not choose to run away. We stand our ground and take action, instead of ignoring the solution in front of us."

I cannot believe my ears. "Taking action? The Hunters were, and still are misguided. Stealing the Eye was not the proper solution to a drought," I say. "Look where it led the Kingdoms of Abandryaph." 

"Abandryaph was dying," he hisses. "Plants withering, people starving, and the scouts sent to seek advice from that snake never returned. But what did you and Mother and Father do while our crops were withering outside our windows? Nothing." 

"I could not have let you join them!" I say, well aware of the Hunters in the barn, as well as the Hunter standing before me. "They were what tore Abandryaph apart from the inside! To this day, they cause people to choose sides and fight. People who never asked for this." My mind flashes back to the Maquan tribe and the Cobalt Pirates.