The Truth that wasn't there

One

Two thousand, three hundred years ago

The young woman paced the quiet cave, bouncing softly so that the baby on her back would remain lulled to sleep. Dawn was peeking through the trees above and she knew if they didn't do this now, they would never get the chance.

"Elheji," she hissed. "Quick. Before they notice we're gone."

"I'm coming, Usop. I'm coming."

A small, dark man came running down the side of the pit in the ground. With him, there was a small boy whose hand he clutched in his as the boy tried to match pace with his father's stride. Both of them were just as haggard as Usop felt. She knew what they were going through. Having lived at the bottom of her people, tossed around, and sent and excluded, left with barely any food to eat, she could understand why Elheji looked as hungry as he did.

Because he was hungry.

Just like she was. He was hurting. He was wounded. He was broken, and on the verge of collapse. His skin was graying and dirty. Water was not a shortage for the land, but he couldn't bathe. Just like she couldn't. The village streams didn't cater to the human rags that they were.

Hearing another set of feet, pattering along above them as another woman came into view, Usop smiled, still bouncing the baby. Oseki had arrived with her little daughter, as well but the girl was asleep on Oseki's back. She was much bigger than Usop's baby, but she was still just a child.

Taking the nature-carved stairs down into the pit, Oseki arrived, smiling and ushering her little girl into the pit, when Izeh finally showed up.

"What took you so long?" Elheji asked Izeh as he came down. He had the oldest child of all of them.

"My master wouldn't let me leave."

"We have to do this now."

Together, the four of them took the children further into the pit, entering the place where the shimmering fountain of the land's wealth and satisfaction flowed, bringing life to everyone who called the land home. The light at the bottom of the naturally curved, underground fountain shone a green light into the cave, casting upon the recent inhabitants a glow that had nothing to do with their sad, hungry looks.

"Are we ready to do this?" Usop asked.

"I'm ready," Oseki said, bringing her little girl before her.

"We're doing this for our families," Elheji said in a whisper, as he brought the little boy before him.

"Once we do this," Izeh said, looking around. "The others won't have access to the land's wealth. It will be for only us, correct?"

They all nodded.

"We deserve this," Izeh said. "We've suffered enough. They've degraded and beaten and broken us for generations. Our children's children cannot go through the same predicament."

"No one is arguing with you," Oseki said. "Let's just get this over with."

Spreading around the fountain, the four adults held the children before them as they knelt.

Usop could remember the words. She could say it in her sleep. They'd been planning this for months, they'd sought the gods, and they'd gotten answers. This was the only way. Once this was finished, no one would ever treat them the same. They would prosper. They would flourish. And the best part was that their children and children's children would always be protected and provided for.

The gods didn't lie.

"Are we ready?" Elheji asked.

Silently, they all nodded, holding the children to the water.

"Together now," he said.

Slowly, steadily, strongly, resisting the pushes of the children in their arms, the parents lowered their children's heads till they were beneath the water.

Usop had a baby. Her baby was so new, so young, barely able to move his neck. Putting him beneath the water as the water entered his nose and his ears and his mouth, suffocating him till his eyes opened and blanked out, was easier. Even as her companions struggled with their children, Usop held hers, watching the light leave her baby's eyes as he went from vibrantly alive, to nothing.

He was better off. He wasn't eating well. His mother was barely eating enough to sustain the both of them. But with his sacrifice, with his gift, she could feed his siblings.

Beside her, Oseki sobbed, holding her child down, beneath the water as the child gave one last struggle and stopped moving.

As soon as the last child stopped struggling, once all four of them had passed into the great beyond, the fountain began to pulse, the light beneath growing and growing towards the floating children. The parents stepped away, watching the fountain feed as, one by one, the bodies began to dissipate into the water.

"It's working," Elheji said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

The light shone, casting a harsh glow into their eyes as they all screamed in pain.

But they were unable to move, unable to leave, stuck standing in the pit, looking into green nothingness as the fountain searched deep into their souls, memorizing their essence, and accepting every one of them. When the light receded, they all crumbled to the ground, groaning in pain.

Usop's head swam as she shook it, trying to come back to herself.

"Was that it?" Oseki asked.

"Is it done?" Elheji asked. "Is it finished?"

"It better be," Usop said, rubbing her aching head as she stood. "Or we would have just killed our children for nothing."