Bloodlines of Archaea I. Afira
Wise Words

After being on the sea for three straight days, after fighting off shadow creatures every night since the Island of Tuana, and after hours of disappointment trying to find answers in my mother’s journal, the volcano of Iuga was just barely visible and still miles away. I looked out at sea, my hands ached and shook from days of paddling, the wind still pushed us farther and farther along the way towards the volcano of Iuga, slowly creeping up on the shoreline.

I groaned, barely able to grasp my oar, as my hands had lost their strength. My stomach growled, I longed for a taste of Grandma Lilly’s home-cooked meals, remembering the days I had them, taking advantage of their presence, as I could always expect them to be at the table with Grandma Lilly waiting patiently sitting down. I thought my world would never change. I believed that I would stay a child forever, but every smile she gave, dance she did, or wise word she said was limited by the number of days she still had left. She made each day count, bringing life, joy, and excitement into my otherwise predictable world. A single tear glistened down my cheek, as I looked out onto the ocean, wishing I could see her just one last time.

Akuma seemed to pick up on my sadness, as he looked over at me, setting down his oar, he quickly glancing at his hands before he lightly touched my shoulder. I slowly tore my eyes away from the sea, wiping my cheek dry with the back of my hand. He gave me a warm smile, looking thoughtfully into my eyes, as if to say, “we’re going to be okay.” I looked back at him, my eyes still filled with tears.

Neither one of us spoke for quite a while, as if we weren’t sure exactly what to say. Finally, he spoke, taking my hand gently and holding it in his own, “no matter how many times the sun goes down,” he paused, looking up at me with his dark eyes. They seemed to scream out at me, but the words were in another language. I tried to understand, listening closely to what they had to say, but the screaming in his eyes remained in a language I could never know, and what they were trying to tell me would never, it seemed, be uncovered.

He took a deep breath. “It always finds its way back here, where it will guide us until the end of time,” we finished together, reciting the words of Grandma Lilly, our voices overlapping with perfect harmony.

He nodded quietly, glancing down at our hands. He blushed, “sorry,” he whispered, embarrassed.

I looked down, nodding. I swallowed hard, then looked back at him, blushing. “It’s fine.” I managed to choke, barely loud enough to be heard over the pounding of my heart.

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