Bloodlines of Archaea I. Afira
The Songs of their Heroes

Arriving at the village, we quickly realized we had come on the day of the summer solstice, where the day was longest. Every person in the village danced, throwing their arms in the air, stomping their legs up high, and singing songs of their own about our gods. They sang of a time when the world was new and when the gods chose the rulers. Each one ruling fairly and graciously. Until they chose one, they dare not speak her name, for she lurks in the shadows. She traded her soul for that of her loved one. It was too late, but her soul was still no longer her own. Years later, she no longer had a soul. Such people were called shadow puppets. They lived in a place between reality, and another dimension called Underdark. They said she sought out revenge, for her sister had banished her to live in the shadows. Where she lurks, seeking a time of weakness for the world. I shivered at such songs. They then sang of two heroes, one who holds the power of the gods in her hands, and whose name meant fire in an ancient language, who hides her face with a cloak of burning red and another, who holds the sword of his father.

Akuma nudged my arm, “Afi, they’re singing about you,” he said, smiling at me.

“My name doesn’t mean fire,” I said, as I couldn’t believe such a thing.

“Not Afira, but Afi does,” he said, “and since everyone calls you Afi, it is your name.” I realized he was right, gasping at the thought of a song, written one hundred years ago, which sung about me.

“Well, they’re singing about you, too. I mean, you can never shut up about your sword being your father’s.” I teased, he smiled.

We came across a stand of goods. We asked where we could find someone to trade with for some water.

He seemed nervous to be around us as if expecting us to become angry, and light his stall on fire. I glanced down at my hands, hoping none of that would happen. He stared into my eyes, as he said, “people of your… kind... can probably find some water without having to trade. Just ask around. I myself, only have bows and arrows for trade.” I stared back at him, for a while, before moving on with Akuma, who was obviously offended by the merchant’s rude manner.

“What did he mean by our kind?” I asked, hoping it was something other than the most obvious answer, being word had traveled of our arrival. Akuma didn’t answer, instead looked down, avoiding making eye contact with me. Instead, began searching for the village’s inn.

Finding it, we walked in to find a room with a fireplace, freshly caught fish, and a bucket of water. It was a warm night so no blanket was needed to sleep. The sun began to set, but the dances still played, the entire village still wide awake deep through the night. The music poured into our room and echoed on the walls. After eating and drinking until my stomach was finally content, I stepped silently across the floor over a sleeping Akuma. The village still danced and sang even after the sun was down. Torches lit the sandy forest floor. Each of the people wore clothes much like that of my people, but instead of deep greens and blues, with patterns of leaves and trees decorating the cloth they wore. Every citizen wore a smile, giggling contently, dancing with one another, as though there was no wrong in the world. Children ran from one edge of the forest to the other, chasing one another, as though it were still the day, and the world could never be more bright.

Someone tapped my shoulder. I spun around, hoping it was Akuma, but instead finding the lead soldier who had first greeted us.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” She asked, wearing a scowl.

“I couldn’t fall asleep,” I said, truthfully. “If you don’t mind me asking, why do you continue to celebrate, even in the dead of night?” I asked, curious.

She took a while to respond as if deciding whether to tell me. Finally, she answered with, “in these dark times, there is not often something to celebrate, so when something to celebrate comes ’round, we take it, and hold it, as long as we can.” I nodded, thinking of her words thoughtfully.

She began to walk away. “Wait,” I called, “I never caught your name.”

Continuing to walk away, she yelled back, “it’s Toa, queen of the Island of Amotoga.”

Deciding I had seen enough of the village, I walked back to the inn, continuing to move silently across the floor. I fell asleep thinking of Toa’s words.

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