The Lonely God

43.

-HER-

After some moments, I find myself peeking inside the well just like yesterday. A rough and cold hand pulls me inside before I am sucked inside the well by the gravity.

This time, I fall willingly.

I close my eyes and anticipate the fall. The sound of the wind whooshing past my ears is the same as that of yesterday. The sense of uprightness is lost. I can only feel myself falling before the ground makes its presence known to me when I feel it's hardness under my feet.

Slowly, I open my eyes and look around me. I am standing by a river bank, surrounded by trees. The sun is slowly disappearing behind the horizon, taking the light with it. The birds are returning to their nests and the distant murmur of some children, playing by the river floats in the evening air.

"Arles!" A deep male voice booms in the air before I hear footsteps approaching me. In the next moment, a little boy climbs up the steps to the river bank. He's carrying a heavy bucket with him. It's heavier than him and he's having trouble to lift the bucket so he's dragging it with all the energy his little body has.

"Coming," Replies the small boy with a panicking tone. I forget to breathe for a moment when realization dawns upon me. It's... Arles. The unmistakable resemblance between them. His head is covered with a mane of black, curly hair, which platers to his neck and forehead with sweat. His silver eyes look colorless as if he's blind. He's wearing nothing but a pair of shorts that are drenching in his sweat as well.

Every time, he manages to drag the bucket behind him, the muscles in his small hands and body contracts, showing off the bones underneath the skin. He's barefooted. The expression on his face speaks that he's tired and out of breath but he couldn't spare a moment to catch up upon it.

I am so overwhelmed by the scene that I couldn't help but rush to his aid but as soon as I touch him, my hands travel through him, reminding me that I am only a spectator. There's no way I can part take in this scene and help the little child. With close inspection, all I could conclude is that he looks somewhat close to six years old.

"ARLES!" The same male voice thunders, raising another wave of panic in him. The bucket he is carrying has water which seems to be trying violently to escape the bucket given his rough moments. It's after some moments when I notice that he's carrying fishes in that bucket.

Seeing him struggle, I can't help but feel empathetic to him. I want to help this little kid in some way. It's hard for me to see him struggling like this.

"Where do you think you're going?" A voice speaks from behind us, making us both turn around. A boy who seems to be in his late teens is standing by the trees, looking down at small Arles with his hands resting on his hips. There's an unmistakable glint of amusement and slyness in his eyes that has me doubting his motives.

"I caught these fishes for the day. I am taking these to master," Little Arles speaks. Although his voice sounds innocent, there's an edge of power and authority to it that doesn't go unnoticed by me. He seems to have inherited this from Luna.

The older boy slowly approaches the younger one. He stops in front of little Arles and towers over him.

"Hand me the bucket and leave," Threatens the older boy. Little Arles has to tilt his head back to have a better look at the older boy. For a moment, I see his silver eyes come alive.

"I caught them. So, they're mine," Speaks little Arles grimly. It surprises me how he's standing up against a boy far older than him. Had there been other kid at his place, they'd have been intimidated by the height and maturity of the older one.