The Oreans

Chapter 1

Chapter 1
A Farewell

Fire was everywhere. Men were running to and fro. Women and children were crying. In the middle of the village square was a man. A man Alen knew so well. He was fighting. Behind him was another persona woman. She had long flowing golden hair. Though Alen could not see her face, he knew she was young and beautiful. Then, the fire grew to swallow the sight of them. Alen cried for their name. As he did, the flame swirled around him, transforming itself into a band of changing colors around him. He was floating. From somewhere, a sweet voice rang, singing a calming mellow tune, lulling him. But just as its restive effect nearly claimed him, the colors shifted into pure bright white. He felt himself falling. Beside him, a baby began to whimper. A cry rose in his own throat as well, but this was cut soon. The mellow tune seemed to have formed a hand feeling his forehead. This appeased him. The baby beside him grew silent, too. Then, bird songs erupted all round him. Alen rose with a start.

Dream--Of course, it was just a dream. He thought as he cleared his crowded vision and surveyed his room. The faint light of dawn was already giving it a lighter shade, and he could see through his open window that the sky had already assumed a myriad of colors. Roosters were crowing from a distance.

It took some time before he realized what had awakened him. The temple bells had started ringing, signaling the break of dawn. He listened a while for any sound in the house. When he heard nothing, he closed his eyes again, trying to remember the dream he had been having. He thought it was funny how the incident in their journey a week ago was merged into something as fantastic as his recurrent dream. It was a first as far as he could remember.

Why nearly every dream he had ended with the same scenario was beyond Alens understanding. He wished he could have something less vaguesomething that might answer at least some of the questions he had about himself. If not, if dreams were indeed fantasy, he wished it would at least let him see them for the last time: the people who had been his second family.

A hazy identity and a terrible feeling of guilt--these were what Alen had had to live with till now. For years, he had lived with the belief that he was an orphan: The monks in the monastery where he grew up had told him that his parents had died in an accident. A lie. It had been a terrible shock to Alen when he had chanced upon the truth: He had just been found at the monastery gate, abandoned it seemed to die.

The days and weeks following the discovery had been the most terrible for Alen. It had not occurred to him then that his former guardians had meant well when they kept this from him. The pain had made him a difficult child. It had made him forget the good things the monks had shown him. He had driven them to take desperate measures for his sake. Believing that a new family could make him happier than a circle of celibate men, Abbot Bien had let some rich couple adopt him. But this proved to be a mistake: His new guardians had proved to be not what they had seemed at first, their acts of charity had been but superficial. For no apparent reason at all, they had subjected him to abuses and insults. Alen had borne these, making him realize his mistakes, wishing that the monks would come to take him away. But they never did. They couldnt.

Alen rolled over his bed, trying to shrug off the bitter emotion. But the memory of learning last years catastrophe would not go away. The volcanic eruption and what it had cost him: the horrible death of his loving guardians It was the second to the worst thing that happened in his life. After learning about his abandonment, what else could be more painful than losing his second family? If only he were there, he could have done something. He could have at least told them how grateful he was for all the things they had done to him. Now, it was too late; the monks were gone. They were now buried deep in the rubble that had once been his home.