*****
Crush. Crush. Crush.
My throat burns with each pant I take as air struggles to fill my exhausted lungs. The hill is steep, rocky and smothered in mist, hiding any trace of loosened rocks and broken branches from the early morning Scouts. I take in a huge breath and glance back at the dangerously hidden path I have just taken, thankful I made it at all.
I have to rush today, desperate winds are hot on my heels. As the soles of my shoes hit the mossy stone path, I come to an abrupt halt in order to capture the absolute silence; the village is in deep sleep. From quite a distance away, all I can hear are the roars of the ocean. She’s more troubled of late. Waves are bigger and faster as they come crashing in―it’s a warning, her battle cry. The storms are getting closer to land. My bones hum with the calls of the sea. It’s here, the day of the prophecy.
I keep still for a few moments more and focus on my immediate surroundings, making sure there are no signs of the Magams’ minions. Lifting my face to the sky, I catch the breeze for any scent of their pungent magic. Thankfully, the air smells of forest and nothing more sinister.
Straightening my jacket, I embrace the dusk of this dreaded day. I wonder how many other Minoans can feel it, too. Most of us should be relieved that it doesn’t loom overhead anymore. The day everyone has been preparing for since the end of the ancients has finally come. A new era is at hand. But the path is filled with darkness and death. My stomach does another flip at the morbid thought. I am not sure if I am scared or excited―it’s a collision of both. There’s a rotting ache inside my gut, and it feels as if I can’t get to her fast enough.
I make my way through the fog as I follow the forest’s path. I know the pattern of floor so well, I can walk it blindly. In some places, the ground dips so low my feet are smothered by it. Above me, there is a scuffle in the trees and I smile to myself. Pebbles is keeping watch over me from above. She rustles the leaves to let me know she’s there as soon as I reach the river bed.
“I’ll be back at sunrise, I promise.” Then I wave to her.
Before I scale the creek’s banks, I loosely tie my hair into a braid. This part is always tricky, especially with all the mist and dew that cover the rocks. As my boots hit the first rock, I realize the creek’s water level has risen substantially. I decide to take the side entrance to her house, so I hurry to the dock and blindly feel around for the canoe. My nerves have gotten the better of me and I kick the side of the boat with my boot. The loud thud echoes over the water and into the deep of the valley. I bend to feel for the anchor post. The ropes are heavy and buried with sand as I loosen them; it hasn’t been used in over 5 years, not since the drought. And if anything, it is one thing in favour of the prophecy. It has come in order to end difficult days.
Steering over the rapids is trickier than I remember. I almost drop the paddle twice. The fog is a thick and cold embrace over the shallows of the water, but the smell of the wood fire is my lighthouse, guiding me safely to the other side. I have to be fast but silent; I can’t let the Magam know of the secret entrance to Arriana’s house.
When I make it to the other side, I don’t have time to search for the pole to anchor it to the shore, so I grab a large rock and flatten its end to the muddy bank. I use the roots of the jacaranda tree to assist my climb up the sodden, slippery embankment.
The warm glow of the porch lamp lights up the garden path. Arriana is already busy for the day. Maya’s entire household awakes early every Saturday morning, before she sneaks off to go play her hockey games in the city. I wonder how the chief would react if he ever found out what they were doing behind his back.
I notice Maya is already waiting for me on the porch. When she sees me her face lights up, and when she smiles it warms me like a fire, a liquid heat that rushes from my chest up to my entire face and neck. I become so hot, I take my jacket off and throw it over my arm. She stares at me inquisitively with those deep, blue eyes that sparkle with each smile. My palms are sweating, and my heart pumps loudly in my throat.
“Good morning,” I say, but it comes out in a croak.
She giggles into her hair.
I take the stairs onto the wooden deck and suddenly, I can’t act normal around her anymore. My feet have a mind of their own and stop a distance away from her. My heart flutters as she comes near. I bow in greeting―as our people do―and as usual she teases me about such out of date behavior. She’s forgotten many of our ways since her time with the city dwellers. It’s something I admire about her. She’s not afraid of change, she embraces it. She’s the bravest girl I know.
“She’s about the only girl you know.” Anaya is suddenly behind me.
She grabs me around my shoulders and whispers in my ear, “If you don’t tell her soon, I will.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say out loud, and bow.
Maya stomps her foot. “Are you guys mind talking again?”
“It wasn’t me, I swear, it’s all her,” I blurt out, pointing at her aunt.
“Relax, dude.” Maya leans in to punch my shoulder. “Why so jumpy today?”
“I am not jumpy,” I try to lie.
“If you say so.”
Anaya pushes past us and enters the doorway first.
“Morning, Rion,” Arriana calls from the warmth of the kitchen stove.
As we enter, I wipe my feet on the grassy mat, and hang up my coat on the extended hook next to the door. As the wooden door closes behind me, the white curtain billows in its gust. It shuts with the slightest of creaks, and a chill runs over my body―so fast and fleeting―I hardly feel it at all. But the hollow ache inside me remains. I stare at the ornate door handle, looking for a sign from the gems that were captured inside the golden, metallic artefact, which is cleverly hidden as a decorative doorknob piece. What I am looking for is the distinctive glow that something―or someone―sinister sets off within the blessed gemstone. Arriana, and those of the Minoan Council, have all put up such wards as the time draws near. But I don’t get time to seek out any signs, because Maya grabs my hand and pulls me over to be seated at the table.
My boots clatter loudly over the wooden floor all the way there. The heart of the cottage is a bristling sensation of warmth and comfort. Arriana walks over to the table and dishes up a huge wad of porridge onto my plate. I thank her for the food and even though she is blind, Arriana looks straight at me and smiles. Deftly, she navigates over to Maya’s bowl and dishes up the same mound of porridge.
“Hungry today?” I tease.
She nods as the first spoon goes in. She smiles and keeps staring at me as she digests her first mouthful.
“Rion?”
“Yes.”
“You are staring.”
I clear my throat. “Sorry.”
“Shut up and eat, or I’ll be late,” she says, and waves at me to look away.
I swear I see her blush but don’t say anything, just nod and wipe my clammy palms on my leather pants as she weaves in mouthful after mouthful of the grainy gruel. It is sweet and creamy, leaving a slight bitter aftertaste as it goes down. The food is so welcoming it warms me from the inside out.
We eat in silence as Arriana and Anaya pack their baskets for the market place stalls. My hands start to shake when I think of today, so I remove them from the table and sit on them to ease my anxiety. I don’t understand how no one is saying anything about today, about the ominous cloud that hangs over our village. I can’t stand to just sit and wait for fate to have its way with us.
I stare at Anaya as she sheathes a dagger beneath her purple caftan, and then lingers in front of the fireplace, her turquoise eyes studying the flame’s dance. Her face is shadowed with concern.
When I turn my head to study Arriana, she accidentally drops one of her newly made vases to the floor. Maya and I both rush from our chairs to pick up the broken pieces. We crouch and start collecting all the scattered shards before Arriana―who is barefoot―steps on it. Maya’s mom doesn’t wear shoes around the house
, says it feels unnatural and stifles her aura. In the summertime, I can understand that, but it’s winter and has been so for the last 5 years. But the soft rumble of the storm drawing near reminds me that winter ends today, and with the rebirth of our planet will come something deadly and destructive.
I’m too unfocused, my mind a runaway mess, and I accidentally bump heads with Maya while reaching for a huge fragment that fell beneath the counter.
Maya giggles, bringing up a hand to rub her forehead.
“Forgive me,” I say, as I stand and reach for her hand.
“That’s okay, I guess even you have your off days.”
I stare at her in silence. I want to remember this precious moment. Her cheeks are flushed from the warmth in the kitchen, and her skin smells like vanilla; she’s so close, I can reach out and touch her. Her breath is incredibly sweet when she exhales.
“Ouch.” She rubs her head again, then smiles up at me and turns to discard the pieces into a wooden bin where all the other broken pottery pieces go for later use in one of Arriana’s projects.
I reprimand myself internally as she walks away. I’m left holding pieces of white, polished shards in my palms. It is then I notice her mom staring at me all strangely.
“You’ve cut yourself,” Arriana says, coming closer, the bottom of her blue and purple skirts brush over the wooden floors.
“Wait!” Anaya shouts. She grabs the broom and starts sweeping around us.
“Excuse me.” I bow and empty my hands into the bin. The pieces clatter and chime as they hit each other tumbling down the rest of the pile. When I turn around, Anaya is already standing behind me with a cloth, ready to wipe at the small cut on my palm. I don’t stare at the discoloration of her eyes; it would be very rude to.
“I’m okay,” I insist.
“No.” She pulls my hand toward hers and starts rubbing away at the blood. “If they get as much as a sniff of your hallowed blood…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, because the outcome would be too grim to imagine.
Arriana rushes over and runs a healing crystal over my hand. The crystal illuminates and then fades seconds later as the cut is healed. “Go wash your hands, please. I am not taking any chances today.”
I bow in agreement.
When I round the corner into the passage, I hear Maya singing from her room. The door is slightly ajar and a yellow glow emits into the shadows of the long hall. I take soft, slow steps past her bedroom, careful not to take a peek out of respect. Her voice is light and smooth as I pass the door, but I stop just short of the gray light creeping in from the passage window, stealing a moment to listen to her honeyed tone as it carries down the passage. When I hear her floorboards creak, I quickly move away, passing Enoch’s room.
Maya is still singing when I get that bad feeling I was telling you about earlier; it comes back with more unease, as well as a physical pain inside my gut. I turn back to Enoch’s room. I want to know what he has been up to lately, sneaking behind our backs, brushing off guard duties―he is hiding something. I turn the knob, but the door is locked. This only confirms my suspicions. I sigh. So close.
“Umm, what are you doing?”
I suddenly realize the singing has stopped. Startled, I look at Maya, her eyes wide, beautiful, and questioning on mine. “I would rather not tell you.” I look down, ashamed and unable to meet her eyes as I confess my indiscretion. “Excuse me.” I bow and make my way to the bathroom.
I feel her eyes following me as I make my way inside. I don’t turn to close the door; I can’t stand to see her face when I am lying. Using my foot, I slam the door shut and take a huge calming breath. I stare at my reflection on the shiny tinted piece of glass mounted above the basin. This, too, is something that Maya brought to the village. The use of mirrors. My reflection is distorted by the trapped steam that clings to the walls of the bathroom. I wipe my hand across the cold, smooth surface. “Idiot,” I say to myself.
I cannot stand the fact that I have to keep things from her. It’s bad enough I have to lie about my feelings toward her. Now I have to lie about my suspicions regarding her brother. Having these feelings for her and not being able to be normal around her is crushing me. Is this why they call it a crush? I feel like I can’t move, smothered by my unspoken confessions. I have to tell her, it has to come out, and if I am exiled for it―then so be it.