Chapter 26

4 0 0
                                    

Torika wrapped her arms around me as I stood there frozen.

"Uh," I stammered, a million thoughts racing through my mind. "So you guys are pure bloods."

Torika let go. "Pure bloods, such an outdated term. We prefer to use the Traditional Language."

"The what?"

"Before the Pranayikatanians came to Ekota, we spoke one language, called the Traditional Language. In our language, we are called the Odaria," Torika explained.

"This is a lot to take in," I replied.

"Please, come sit," Torika said, ushering me to the platform. "Farok, see to it that these people have their issues addressed outside."

The king rolled his eyes, but obliged nonetheless, shooing out the other people and shutting the iron doors behind him. Torika sighed and shook her head.

"You're king's kind of a jerk," I said, sitting down on the platform.

Torika smiled, the wrinkles around her eyes crinkling. "He's not always this awful. Leadership was thrusted onto him after..." She trailed off.

"After what?" I pressed.

"After our last king, his father, was taken by the Naholo," she replied grimly.

"I'm sorry, the what?" I asked.

"Those creature to the south," Torika said.

"I knew it, the Beasts are taking you guys!" I exclaimed.

Torika sighed and sat down next to me, resting her hand on mine. I couldn't help but to stare at her, the fires on the wall flickering off of her face. She did, in a way, remind me of my father. They had the same face shape, same eyes. She seemed like the more, worn down version of my father.

"So," I started. "Grandma."

Torika, squeezed my hands. "Please, call me Amema. It's traditional."

"Alright, Amema," I started again, feeling for the words. "What is all this?" I gestured at the room, but I meant the entirety of the volcano city.

"This is our home Nisa, a place for the Odaria to live without fear, without hate," she said.

"No offense, Amema, but hate?" I asked. "Who's hating you?"

"Hundreds of years ago, the Odaria were forced into hiding by the Gilit. We can't trust them, we never could. Which is why we came to Mount Wanea to preserve our people," Torika explained.

"Gilit? Sorry, this whole Traditional Language thing is really confusing," I asked sheepishly.

"Those with plain blood, not with Audral's blessing. They are weak and are not fit to call themselves Ekotians," she answered, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh, um, about that," I started. "See, uh, I sort of came here with the leader of the Winoan Council and we were hoping that maybe we could form a sort of alliance to stop the Be- I mean, Naholo."

Torika raised an eyebrow. "You what?"

I pursed my lips. She didn't seem happy, but I didn't know any better.

"We'll forget about that for the time being. What can you tell me about my parents?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, your parents, they were such a lovely couple," she said, a hint of sadness creeping into her voice. "But they were so young, so full of dreams."

"What happened?" I pressed.

It took Torika a while to compose herself. She took a deep breath.

"Your father, my poor son, he was just so full of hope. He and you mother, when they married and she became pregnant, well, they only wanted the best for you. They didn't want you to grow up, living in fear of the Naholo like they did. So they left, and each day that passes, I regret not being able to keep them here," Torika explained, her eyes watering. "How are your parents?"

EchoesWhere stories live. Discover now