Hexe - The Great Exodus

[CH. 0011] - The Uncrowded King

Muna

Moo−nah

Type: Noun

Meaning: In a world with nine moons, "Muna" refers to both an individual moon and the concept of a month. A "Muna" is the period during which one of the nine moons completes its cycle, approximately 44 days.

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A void of impenetrable darkness engulfed Yeso, save for the faint sensation of water sloshing beneath his feet—a muted experience, oddly soundless. It was as though reality had been dialled down to zero. Even the rise and fall of his own chest felt eerily absent from his awareness.

"Am I dreaming?" he wondered, his thoughts swirling in the black ether like fading echoes. It did smell like a dream.

Drawn by an inexplicable yearning, he moved toward a dim flicker of light ahead. It grew brighter as he approached until it unveiled its source: a young girl standing before him. She was not just any girl; she wore the Crown of the Sun. The headpiece was a stunning sculpture of golden stag horns, arcing and intertwining to resemble the rays of the sun. An intricately crafted golden blindfold shielded her eyes, a metallic veil of otherworldly beauty.

He knew that crown. He knew it too well. It was his crown.

Yet, incongruently, her attire was a portrait of deprivation and servitude—rags clinging to her form, sullied with sweat and tinged with blue blood stains. She wore the marks and scars of someone who had been tortured for Fall after Fall. Her hair of shimmering diamond strands mirrored Yeso's own.

"Who are you?" Yeso blurted out, his voice breaking the silence.

As if caught in a spell, the girl repeated his words in perfect unison, "Who are you?"

Intrigued, he cautiously extended his hand, watching her replicate his every move until her hand met his, palm to palm. It felt as though he were pressing against a cold, ethereal mirror.

Driven by an instinct he couldn't comprehend, Yeso ran his fingers through his hair. The girl mimicked his movement, her hand coursing through her own radiant strands with uncanny precision.

"Who are you?" Yeso inquired once more.

"Who are you?" she echoed back, and then she asked, "Am I Yeso?"

With a jolt, Yeso snapped awake, realizing his head had lolled onto Jear's broad shoulder. Blinking away the fog of the dream, Yeso almost raised his hands to rub his eyes, but the tactile memory of thin fabric against his skin reminded him he had blindfolded himself.

Yeso tightened the cool handkerchief against his eyes. He wasn't blind; he could see through the fabric. It wasn't just a piece of cloth, but it was a necessary safeguard for Noctavia and him.

Hexe's distance or emotional strain between them could result in debilitating physical symptoms. The blindfold acted as a temporary buffer, disrupting the tangible connection between them and dulling the sensory links that could otherwise wreak havoc on their well-being.

Usually, he would employ this tactic to save them both from the nausea and fatigue that accompanied long separations. But today, as the ship drew closer to Whitestone, Yeso had another motive. He wanted to shield Noctavia from the emotional tempest that might unravel him upon setting foot on the Capitol.

Whitestone wasn't just another mission; it was a place teeming with old wounds, long-buried memories, and unfinished business with Veilla. After all, he had broken the heart of his Dame.