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2412, Xavem 25, Kindreth
Simple sailor, tailors churn, a familiar voice sang. A woman dressed in a black, tailored dress hung white sheets on a single black wire. The sound of water dripping from the washed sheets was loud like the drums during Jered Sansane. Footsteps, horses neighing, and fowls clucking could be heard through the thin, wooden walls. Still, the song floated above all the noise.
Keel to drag, sails to turn, the song continued. He knew all the words in Keijula, Ylanenla, and in their dialect. Somehow, he couldn't open his mouth to sing along. It was this song that his mother liked to sing to him to sleep no matter how many times he complained that it's too gory.
There she was. Riza Zeilran. The head of the servants quarters in the Imperial Palace. The only mother he had ever known.
Her long, thin hair was as black as he remembered. It was always pinned at the top of her head and stilled by a white cap all servants wear. She only let it out of its strict bun when she was letting it dry after washing. He used to look forward to her letting her hair dry because, by then, he would get to brush it down. Then, she would sing to him as he did so.
Riza. She loved singing. He saw her every time the local theater troupe went home from their expeditions around the island. They would sing publicly in Lanteglos and his mother always made it a point that they're there. Perhaps, if the Imperial Palace hadn't claimed her life since she was born, she would've been with the troupe, singing her heart out and given praise for her talent.
Seas rage, storms and thunder burn, the voice turned hoarse that if he could cover his ears, he would've. The temperature dropped as ice cackled as it coated his veins. The singing distorted into an ominous ring. The voices were turned backwards. The words clawed at his heart like they're after revenge. He tried to turn around or to call his mother who still hung sheets on the wire.
Fool's quest, a fool's gold to earn. His mother turned. Instead of the sweet, carefree smile he used to see on his mother's face, he was greeted with a manic grin. The words of the song blurred in his ears. His heart pounded along with their forceful grit..
Simple sailor, corpses lie in view, the song continued. The notes dropped lower and lower as opposed to how his memory perceived it. Memory...
Keel to build, planks to skew. He took a step back as his mother forgot the sheets and instead stalked towards him with her arms outstretched. Her manic smile had turned into a questioning look as she mouthed the words to the song.
Skies quell, rain roars true. His throat closed up as the memory kicked in. This dress. The sheets. The song. He knew what's going to happen. He knew...
No.
His hands flew to a dagger that miraculously appeared by his belt. No. He resisted but his heart clenched with pain he never thought he'd feel again. No. He was cursed to do it. He was cursed to do everything they say. They said...
