The Mayaware's reign must end.
In a world of demonic beings with a hunger for human flesh and thirst for blood, Hesi Renen knows it well. When her siblings are taken to the harvesting farms, she must do everything she can to get them out, even if it...
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"The rules are simple." Kharta shuffled sheets of parchment, tapping the sheaf on the table's surface. "Say what you think is the best course of action, and we will decide if it is sound and applicable in Berheqt."
The demons wanted an outside perspective—from their meals, no less. If the desert squirrels and hares Hesi hunted talked, perhaps she should have held a tribunal for them too. She imagined the questions she would ask: which part of their bodies do they consider more important and hold to a much higher esteem?, how would they want to die—quick and painless, or slow and torturous?, what's the most effective way to snuff the life out of their kind?
The new hall was bland, with little garb to decorate the open windows or rugs to cover the dusty floor. Mayaware guards lined the wall by the door. Their spears and sheathed curved blades glinted with every shaft of sunlight bathing them.
She eyed the brides seated behind a table parallel to the wall. None showed up with smiles on their faces, accessories on their hair, or and paint on their skin. They grieved for the fallen in unique ways, and she was in no position to judge them. Not when Asrate's slap still tickled her cheek.
Wake up, Hesi. The bride told her in the arena. Wake up from what? Hesi wasn't dreaming. Even if she did, there was a better name for it—a nightmare. The dread of the night crept up and swallowed her even if the night eclipsed hours ago. Waking up meant freeing herself of this world and the truth, and no other escape existed except death.
It is not freedom when all we do is run. Pai told her that. A girl barely past sixteen spouted words that never have been truer.
Hesi wouldn't wake up. Not now. She would live inside this hideous and unending nightmare, because that was what being human meant. It was to struggle, to toil,and to writhe under the sun's relentless fire.
Loss was part of the experience. She lost count of how many times she convinced herself of the sentiment. Loss was part of being human. Loss...
It was the foundation of existence.
It must not come as a shock. It should not hurt after seeing it happen. But it did. Each one of them did.
And that was what these demons didn't understand and what humans in Berheqt understood less. Kharta implied as such in their last talk. It drove her up the wall. To these people, loss was another attraction at the dune's crest. Another peak to traverse. They accepted this as the truth, and therefore, they did nothing about it. Kharta's vendetta against the demons wasn't because he wanted to save the world. Revenge. He did everything for revenge. And if the conditions weren't optimal, if at least one factor misaligned, he feared his revenge wouldn't feel good.
That was why Rehema and Semret had to die when he didn't raise his hand to stop the match despite having the status.
"Today's first agenda is about the upcoming large-scale expansion to Ser-Methon." Kharta shifted the first sheet on his stack and poised a quill atop it. The smell of ink wafted in the air as he opened a bottle and set it aside. "Brides, what are your thoughts about it?"
