Desert Wind

Chapter 13

***

I remember the day I stole something for the first time. It wasn't a spectacular heist with a long chase, sword fights, and a dramatic triumph of one side. No. It was just an ordinary day. Wednesday, the middle of the week. I was six years old and hungry.

I was walking down one of the side streets of Aram—or rather, I was being pushed along by the crowd. The sun scorched my skin, and the sand stung my eyes. I remember that day well. As was usual in Aram, there were stalls everywhere. My favorite one was the one with colorful pots, vases, and other ceramics shimmering in the sunlight. They were so beautiful. Simple yet unattainable. Ah, and those stalls filled with sweets... every child must have dreamed of them. Small candies in colorful wrappers, piles of candied fruits, and huge chocolate bars brought from a distant country whose name I could never remember. What a sight it was. The Holy Grail, an impossible dream.

But neither the ceramic stall nor the candy stall was the victim of my first theft. No... my choice was different. Some adults would say it was due to a lack of proper upbringing, others that it was poverty. I... I don't know what drove me back then. When I made that decision. Maybe I didn't even make it. Maybe my mind did it for me.

I remember how the crowd pressed in from all sides. Stones and sand crunched under my shoes—if you could even call them that. They were old, torn boots I had found on the street. As a child, I was so small and frail that I couldn't fight my way through the sea of people. I couldn't see where I was going, I couldn't read the street signs hanging high above, and even if I could, I didn't know how to read.

And then, I caught the scent. Beautiful in its simplicity. Sweet. It lured me in like a flower lures a bee. I pushed past the grumbling merchants and stopped right in front of my target. A pile—or maybe a mountain—of apples lay within arm's reach. They were round, green, and looked as if someone had polished them—they practically glowed. I felt saliva pooling in my mouth, my hands grew sweaty. A dull ache pulsed in the back of my head. Was it from hunger?

Suddenly, one apple—the one that had been sitting right at the top just moments before—rolled down the pile like an avalanche rushing down a mountainside and fell to the ground, landing in the dirty sand. That couldn't be. Such a beautiful fruit couldn't be left to rot in the dust and filth. It couldn't go to waste. And so, in one swift motion, I bent down and slipped the sacred fruit into my pocket.

No one noticed. No one knew about the mysterious fall and disappearance of the apple. I never wondered how it happened—how that one apple just rolled down on its own.

One thing I do know for sure—the forbidden apple was the best thing I had ever eaten in my life.

***

Darkness. Peaceful, comforting darkness. If not for the blood-curdling sounds around me, I might have found a moment of peace.

—   Klelia, this is not a good time for that,— I heard Kasander's voice. He was panting heavily between words.

I forced myself to open my eyes.

Time is indeed a strange phenomenon. Only a few, those who have experienced a truly traumatic event, can understand its nuances. That day, I became one of them. Time stood still. My little world froze for the briefest of moments.

Mouth agape, eyes wide as saucers, I watched as a massive, pitch-black beast lunged at my would-be killer and tore his head off like he was nothing more than a rag doll. I wished I had never seen it, but it was too late.

I vomited.

I trembled from the sheer intensity of my emotions. A thought crossed my mind—was I having some kind of seizure? Was it possible for my body to react so violently to trauma and fear?