Arynthe's Story

The promise

A few days ago I got my hands on an Ashirian history book. They spoke of the period between the Old Ashiria and the New Ashiria as "The Darkening". That term already demonstrates how much they underestimate the time. "Time of Constant Terror" would've been a more accurate description, or "Time of Forced Criminality". It's clear to me that the rebel generation has no clue what it used to be like. They protested against the boredom, so apparently being forced to look over your shoulder all the time is a better life. I may be a bit oversensitive to the subject, but let's not forget I lost both my parents during this dark, dark period. I told about my mother, now I tell about my father. 

11 br.

After being banned from public places, the environment kept growing grimmer for Ashirians. We soon had to steal to be able to eat at all, and only a little later we had to kill to live at all. At first it hurt me a lot, and I got nightmares about it all the time, but the more often I did it, the better I got at silencing the voices of guilt. If they spoke to me at night before I went to sleep, I just told myself that I had no choice. It was true: I had no choice. If I had one, I wouldn't have done it. 

One day I had stolen food for the week with my father, at least, that was the plan, but we got caught. One moment I was sneaking through hidden corridors, the next I was running for my life, not caring where I went, as long as I got out. My arms full of metal things, as many as I could carry. My father was running behind me, backwards, firing at the aliens that chased us so frantically that they had to find cover and couldn't aim at us. 

I saw a portal to a spaceshuttle in the distance. I didn't care if it was ours or not. I shouted "Heka!" That word meant nothing, so that the translators wouldn't pick it up, but it was a signal that we were almost there. 

Then my father got shot. The beam blew off his entire lower leg. I grabbed his arm with my elbow and dragged him on. Almost there. Almost there. Only a few more steps. I struggled to keep the peace through the rhythm of my footsteps and kept repeating to myself that I was almost there. If I panicked now, I wouldn't get out alive. 

I dived into our new spaceshuttle, locked the door and flew out dangerously fast. This shuttle had invisibility mode which I entered immediately. I let it fly away on autopilot. 

"Nice job, Arynthe," my father said softly. 
I turned and looked down at him. I knew I had lost him. He lost too much blood. 
"Do you want a painkiller?" I asked.
"Nah," my father said, and he tried to laugh. "Don't waste good material on a dying man."

I knelt down and put my arm around his shoulders to support him. Then I sat there for a while. I couldn't really imagine that my father would soon never be able to talk to me again. He could never make those jokes again that hurt my feelings, although they were pretty funny in some way. He could never stick his stubborn nose into other people's business again if we were secretly aboard a spaceship and trying to stay unnoticed. He was dying right in front of me, but I couldn't believe it. 

"I don't want you to die," I stated out loud. It was a childlike simplicity. 
"You think this is my favourite hobby?" my father said, and a painful grin lit up his face for a moment. 

With all the death I'd witnessed (and caused) by now, this was still entirely new. Maybe it was because I forgot to feel in the fire of those moments. However, in this moment there was no fire, and I suddenly felt so powerless. I felt that I would do anything to save my father, but I also knew that "anything" wouldn't be enough. He had only a few minutes left. 

"Arynthe?" my father whispered. "Can- can you make me a promise?"
"Anything," I said immediately. 
My father slowly lifted up his arm and put it right on the middle of my chest. Then he began to speak. He didn't speak Ashirian, but an old language I knew as Tarinkhee. It was a poem. I tried my best to translate it:

"My child, promise that the darkness of life cannot corrupt you;
Promise that you will always lead the way to light;
My child, promise to me that you will give the right example;
Make the beauty inside you visible for all who need it;
Do no harm in vain, so that you may never cry again;
And so promise to never cry again. Do you promise?"

"Dashay' ege," I said. That meant "I promise". 
"It won't be easy," my father warned. 
I swallowed hard. "I know." 
"Your mother couldn't keep the promise," my father said. "She was too emotional. There are many se-... many..."

He could not finish his sentence. He slipped away.