FATELESS: A Boy’s Bonds

The Levee Breaks

 

I spun through a starless void, disorientation and exhaustion stripping me of will. My thoughts flowed in confused streams, unable to recall where I was. There was a stabbing pain in my breast as if someone had run me through, and a dull ache that ran up and down the length of my body.

Where am I?…

Shifting through the unruly mess of my thoughts, I found puzzle pieces sprawled in eclectic piles, strewn haphazardly as if purposefully sapping me of my recollection. Perhaps my mind was telling me that it would be better to forget, that it would be best to move on. If it was, then I decided to ignore it.

One-by-one, the pieces began to fall into place.

The events of the spring festival; my mother’s harsh words, my bitter departure, the woman, the hunt, falling…

Falling…

The last thing I remembered was lying on the forest floor, agonizing pain shaving away at my sanity. There was someone there with me. A voice that was both unique and yet not wholly unfamiliar.

Who was that?

For all of my efforts, I couldn’t remember what that stranger said to me; the details of our one-sided dialogue eluding me.

Maybe it had all been a dream.

Now, all I knew was that I was no longer in the forest. My body was lying on a soft surface, something warm covering me from chin-to-toe. I sniffed at the air, allowing a familiar aroma of burning wood and mint to fill my nostrils. Accompanying the aroma came a bout of nostalgia. The mint was probably Whiteroot, a favorite of my mother’s.

Which meant that, shockingly, I was…

Home?

My fingers scratched at the soft surface beneath me, taking a handful of fabric. I recognized the material, worn from constant use. Shoving my head down, I found that there was a pillow nestled beneath. I was lying in my bed, in my bedroom.

Returned to Flykra Village.

How?

Had it all been a dream? The aching pain suggested otherwise, but the futile hope that my close encounter with death had been a fantasy remained. I waited in my bed, expecting my father’s thunderous knocking to shake the world. But there was only silence. No knocking, no yelling.

That didn’t mean anything, though. Perhaps Father had drank too much at the festival, as was typical. He would have been scolded and sent to bed, where he would have woken up when the sun was already mid-way through the sky.

I must have snuck home and fallen asleep, I told myself.

Everything was fine.

Pain erupted through my body as I tried rising from the bed, stiff joints groaning in protest like neglected door hinges. The piercing in my chest intensified, so I quickly let my body sink back into the bed’s beckoning comforts. A faint groan escaped my lips as nausea overcame me, bile burning at my throat.

Something rustled beside me, but I was too busy fighting against the rising stomach fluids to investigate. Ignoring the pulsing that wracked at my head, I slowly opened one eye. A harsh light exacerbated the migraine, feeling as if someone had placed burning coals atop both eyeballs. Yet the sight of a familiar wooden ceiling momentarily filled me with boundless relief.

My ceiling.

The very same sight that I’d woken up to for the past fifteen years. So, I truly was home. It was difficult to acknowledge that fact in my mind, still stuck in those dark woods. There was no way I could have made the journey back on my own, even on my best day. It would have meant climbing a much-too-steep cliff and trekking through unfamiliar woods without a map.

Did some villagers find me? Or maybe that stranger brought be back.

“Zavis?”

A gentle whisper whisked me away from my ruminations. My eyes flickered open, struggling to focus through a haze of drowsiness. A wide, doe-eyed gaze looked down upon me from my bedside. I winced, momentarily reminded of the women whose eyes had been as black as midnight.

But these eyes belonged to a young, familiar girl. She sat perched in an aged wicker chair, draped in a pale nightgown, her hair tousled and eyes glassy as if she’d just emerged from the depths of slumber.

“La…” I tried to speak, but couldn’t. My throat was so raw that it felt like I’d swallowed shards of glass.

Why is she in my room?

Lara’s expression contained many emotions, most of which lost on my addled mind. We stared at one another for a while, an uncomfortable silence settling upon the room. I wasn’t sure what to say besides ‘what are you doing here?’, and doubted that I could even manage that much. I kept my mouth shut.

“Zavis!”

My aching body was too stiff, slow to react. I caught only a flurry of brown hair before two arms wrapped tightly around my body. They were strong arms, ill-befitting a girl of her stature. Or maybe I was just weak. My elder sister tightened her embrace, making my body practically convulse in pain.

A rather un-manly squeal emerged from somewhere in my rough throat. “…Hurts…!”

Lara either couldn’t hear my complaint or decided to ignore it. She continued hugging me for an agonizingly long time, in spite of my fervent protests. As someone predisposed to being unsociable, this amount of physical contact was very uncomfortable. But I was in no shape to resist, so I had no choice but to bear it.

Noticing something strange about my right shoulder, I glanced down at my sister. She’d dug her face into my shirt, a growing wet spot forming underneath. Her small back heaved. A fit of hiccups and sniffles overpowering her. Lara was sobbing.

Unsure of how to respond, my eyes flitted around the room for a means of escape. I was never comfortable around intense displays of emotion like this, primarily because I had no idea how to react or console people. Maybe I wouldn’t be winning any brother of the year awards, but it wasn’t like I’d had the best role model.

My sister’s hands gripped the back of my shirt tightly, along with a healthy bit of my flesh. I ignored the pinching and patted her back awkwardly, keeping myself from accidentally blurting out something impolite.

“Lara? What’s wrong?”

A new voice echoed through the room, and I turned a desperate gaze toward the bedroom doorway. My savior stood in the threshold, staring down at us with a curious look on his face.

Unfortunately, my savior also happened to be my archenemy.

Tall, dark-haired, and covered in the sweat of an intense workout. Abel stood directly across from me, blinking as if struggling to process the scene in-front of him. After a few moments of this, the favored son scratched at his head and arched an eyebrow.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

I felt Lara tense at his comment, who then removed her tear-plastered face from my shoulder. Frowning down at the damp fabric, I realized that it wasn’t a shirt at all. My entire torso was covered in white bandages, so many that I’d mistaken the collective to be actual clothing. Turning my focus back to Lara, I was shocked to find her glaring at Abel.

“Go get mother and father!”

An uncharacteristically hostile command tore through the room, causing Abel to flinch back. The eldest son nodded meekly and ran out of the room. I stared at my elder sister in awe, gaze flicking between her and the now-empty doorway.

Alright. I’m definitely dreaming, I thought.

For the first time in years, Abel had just been scolded. By his little sister, no less. If I’d been feeling better, I probably would have broken out laughing. But the pain in my torso had worsened from being manhandled by the aforementioned sister, and every breath was a struggle. It reminded me of how I’d felt while running through the woods. I definitely needed some exercise, preferably with less bleeding and falling.

The sound of Abel’s hurried footsteps faded down the hallway, and Lara whipped back around to stare at me. I half-expected that it was my turn to be scolded now, as a half-smile was still plastered on my face from seeing Abel’s expression. To my surprise, however, her expression only softened.

She saw my smile and met it with one of her own. A kind, motherly smile that made me feel warm inside. It was a kind of smile I’d never seen from our own mother. Lara scooted closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. "It's alright,” Lara said. “You're home now, Zavis."

Staring at her in confusion, not entirely understanding the meaning behind her words, I could only watch as my sister raised her other hand. Soft fingers brushed against my cheek, and only then did I realize that something warm was falling from my eyes.

This time, it wasn’t blood. The liquid was clear, and flowed freely down my face.

Why?

I couldn’t remember the last time it’d happened. I’d closed myself off for so many years, putting up barriers to keep the pain away. To keep myself from crying, or appearing sad in-front of my family and neighbors. Somewhere in my mind, I thought that would be giving them what they wanted. Whether it be Abel, Theo, or the Nine themselves, I’d convinced myself that I couldn’t let them win by crying.

Drawing in a shaking breath, I shoved Lara’s hand away and hurriedly wiped at the tears. I could feel my face growing hot, so I turned away and stared out the bedroom window. The source of a blinding light that had sent me into agony upon waking, my curtains had been pulled away for the first time in…forever?

If I’d been feeling better, I would have chastised her for messing with my stuff.

Lara opened her mouth to respond but fell silent as a booming voice tore through the quiet house. The familiar feeling of my mattress shaking sent a pang of emotion through my chest. Well, another one.

I still felt like someone had stabbed me.

A voice called out from outside the bedroom. "Zavis?!"

Powerful footsteps marked the man’s approach before he charged into the room, moving straight toward me. I watched him fall to his knees with a heavy thud, staring at me with an expression eerily similar to Lara’s. His brown hair was similarly tousled, stubble longer than usual. Wide eyes full of evident exhaustion, my father stared in silence.

Then, once again mimicking his daughter's actions, he grabbed a hold of my bandaged shoulders and yanked me into a tight embrace. Once more, my battered body cried out in anguish as two muscular arms tightened around me like a vice.

"That…hurts…”

Father didn’t acknowledge my weak protests.

Has everyone gone deaf? I wondered, exasperated.

“Thank the King,” Father whispered. “Thank all the Nine.”

I could feel his arms trembling, unsteady breaths sounding from beside my face. Was he going to start crying? I didn’t want to see that. No-one wants to see their father cry. Yet their reactions were affirming the very same answer given by my aching body.

It hadn’t been a dream. The ‘incident’ after the spring festival actually happened, from my panicked flight to the fall.

Though answers were on my mind, I could do no more than awkwardly pat Father’s back as a new damp spot formed on my other shoulder. Movement in my peripheral vision brought my attention back to the doorway. Abel was shifting awkwardly on his feet, watching the emotional display with an expression quite unlike him. As if he didn’t know how to be someone other than the center of attention.

My bitterness toward him vanished when I noticed the pale woman standing beside him. She looked the same as always, white hair falling across her shoulders. There was a braid over one ear, and her crystal-blue eyes seemed as indifferent as always.

“M-Mother?” I asked, emotion catching my voice.

The word slipped through my lips quietly, unintentionally, no more than a whisper. Yet it seemed everyone in the room heard me clearly, as Father pulled away and turned toward his wife. With all of our gazes turned toward her, Mother frowned. Her brows were clearly furrowed in frustration.

She’s going to scold me.

It was inevitable. I knew my mother, and I knew that she was going to find a way to make this into my fault. My fault for not heeding her advice, my fault for leaving the festival behind. Hardening myself, I awaited the words that would cut deep into my heart.

But they never came.

I looked back up at her, realizing that she wasn’t meeting my gaze. Her eyes were focused on something lower. She was staring at the bandages covering my body.

The white strips clung to my flesh like a second skin, stained with sweat and tears.

“Mother?” I called out to her again.

Her brows rose in surprise, as if I’d pulled her from a trance. Then, my mother disappeared.

One moment, she’d been standing beside Abel. The next, she was gone.

I half-way wondered if she’d run out of the room, until something soft and cool brushed against my hair. It was an alien touch, unfamiliar.

Huh?

I looked up. Mother was staring down at me, running her hands through my hair. The impossible happened. Something that I used to dream about as a little boy. Two arms, both so thin and pale, wrapped around my body. I sat on my bed, struggling to comprehend what was happening. My shoulders were being squeezed, and white hair was tickling at my nose.

“Mother…”

The squeezing came to an abrupt stop, and a part of me wanted to protest. My mother’s face came into view. She knelt down on the floor, her hands upon my shoulders, our foreheads touching.

Mother smiled. “Welcome back, Zavis.”

Something snapped within me.

After years of self-imposed isolation and bottling my emotions, they finally sought an outlet. My drowsy vision blurred, tears running freely down my cheeks. At the time, I couldn’t think of anything as beautiful as my mother’s smile. And I realized this was what I’d always wanted.

To be together with my family. I didn’t have to be strong, or handsome. I just needed to be here. With them.

I wanted to be loved.

I’d taken it all for granted, hadn’t I? I thought that Mother had rejected me, that my family didn’t want me. The villagers’ harsh whispers had wormed their way into my brain, darkening my worldview like a serpent’s venom.

My brother’s blessing broke the final straw.

Questioning my worth, I’d convinced myself that none of it mattered. I came to think that secluding myself in my room was best for everyone. No-one asked me how I was doing, no-one tried to reach out. I began to scorn them all. I wished for a fresh start, a new life far away from Flykra Village.

I was Zavis Invidia, the lesser son.

The blacksheep.

Someone who couldn’t be loved.

Yet here they were. Father and Sister, who wept for me. Mother, whose beautiful smile meant the world to me. Brother…well, he didn’t really do anything. He was just watching out of the corner of one eye and doing his best to avoid my gaze.

For the first time in many years, I allowed myself to cry. My head buried in Mother’s shoulder, heavy sobs wracked my body. It felt like a dam had broken, and a deluge of repressed emotions rushed out of me. An intense pressure lifted itself from my shoulders. Sealed feelings unleashed, I wept until I couldn’t even remember why I’d begun weeping in the first place. Body aching, head pounding, I clung to my mother for support.

The madwoman, the cliff-top, and the fall. None of that mattered. I was home. I was safe.

Maybe this wouldn’t last. Maybe everything would go back to normal afterward.

But did it have to? If I began to try, to change my life for the better…

What was stopping me?

Mother, Father, Sister. They lived under the influence of Abel’s blessing. The villagers treated me as an outcast, a freak. Despite all of this, I was glad to be there. I was happy to be surrounded by my family.

Happy to be alive.

Maybe it was time to make something of my life. This was my second chance, an opportunity that wouldn’t come again.

As I sniffled into my mother’s arms, I promised myself to make the best of it.

To do better.

~~~

~~~

The Invidia Family began to crowd around Zavis for support, the boy’s sobs echoing through the otherwise silent household. All the while, a silent figure watched on from the corner of the bedroom, wrapped within a cloak woven from blackest night. No-one paid him even a passing glance.

An envious pang stabbed at the observer’s breast as he took in the scene. Releasing a heavy sigh, the hooded man shook his head. He knew that this couldn’t last, but he would watch for now. Zavis Invidia deserved some time with his family, because such a time would not come again for a very long time. When the hooded man spoke, inaudible to those being observed, his voice carried a great longing and more than a hint of regret.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, kid.”