Sion sat in a classroom with a book in his hand titled: the essence of Nahe and the Naheorthiai anatomy.
The classroom was a shade of coffee and cream, his desk stood by the large glass window. The uniform he wore was a shade of charcoal grey and the long sleeve shirt which he folded to his elbow was off white, on top of the shirt, he wore a sleeveless sweater in the same shade as his pants.
It had been three months since he had arrived at Edimun high, the west wasn't as bad as he thought, the people spoke a different language, their culture and beliefs were different however they spoke the common tongue of which he was most grateful for.
They also had creatures not common in the north; unicorns, the tiny cute dracats, spirit deers and large dragons, insects and birds that looked like they crawled out of a dream, and a vast geography that felt like the mother goddess favored the region above the rest.
It was a place where his father's shadow would no longer hover around him like a vulture flying around a dying prey.
He particularly enjoyed the meals; it reminded him of his mother's food yet nothing came close to the flavors that bounced off his tongue when he ate her meals.
He missed her dearly and often wondered about her welfare, he sincerely hoped that she would stay forever at his aunt's however that was like wishing goats could fly.
He stood up and walked out of the room and into the hallway.
The school was alive with activity-boys and girls filled the hall all dressed in matching outfits like his. Decorations lined every hallway for the they were preparing for the annual celebrations the locals of the west called Ofidata: the celebration of the harvest.
Ofidata a celebration and a two-day public holiday in which the locals marked the beginning of the harvest season with them preparing delicious meals from soups to sweet desserts and danced giving praise and homage to the mother goddess; Nahe and her daughter Ofiadata; the goddess of fertility and agriculture.
Sion walked through the hallway into a large library. The library was like the inside of a clock, which books arranged on massive wheels that turned with the similar slow clicks in a clock with bridges high above that connected to every wheel occasionally breaking apart and rebuilding to make new connections at the command of the students- puzzles in a large copper contraption.
Sion walked up to a pillar and pushed the copper buttons that had the number on the book he was holding. Suddenly, a low clicking sound rose below him and out of the floor rose as flat copper plate that that lifted him as a bridge connected to the wheel that held the number.
"I wondered where you were" said a voice beside him.
Sion turned; it was Baxtosn, his roomie.
Baxtosn was average height plump boy with coffee brown eyes, short red hair and a tiny voice for which he was often teased for. He often sang with string instrument, songs of ancient tales, and he couldn't stop talking about his dream to one day sing in the halls of the biggest opera houses.
"Are you coming for the celebrations?" said a voice beside him.
"Am not sure yet" said Sion as he puts the book in the wheel.
"You have to" he said. "This is your first celebration in the west."
Sion turned from him and walked to another pillar as Baxtosn followed behind.
"You have to," he said, grabbing Sion's arm. "This is your first celebration in the west."
Sion turned from him and walked to another pillar. Baxtosn followed, undeterred.
"Sion, honestly, you have to come. This celebration is nothing like what you folk have up north. There will be fireworks—" he spread his arms wide, nearly knocking a book off a shelf— "that rain like cherry blossoms, but with the fire of stars. And the food, oh, the food. Like the banquet of the heavens."
Sion turned, his lips twitching. "You and food. Peas in a pod."
"Of course, food is the window to the soul" he said. "And the dance, there is a dance among the famous ones we have called jahabi, it starts with the soft melody of strings followed by the strong collaborative buildup of the drums and shakers and then the flutes and the soft ching of the tambourines, all blending into a glorious heavenly melody."
Sion recognized the name Jahabi. His cousin had taught him every step—though he'd never thought he'd actually use it. Now, in this strange land, the memory of those lessons felt like a lifeline.
"Then the dance," Baxtosn continued, his voice growing dreamy. "The women move with fliud grace of river reeds and the men move like Xagon; the god of music, seduction and wine"
Sion's mind wandered. He could still hear his cousin's voice, counting the steps. One. Two. Three. He hadn't danced since he left home. Maybe, just maybe, tonight could be different. For a few hours, he could be just a boy at a celebration, not a son fleeing a monster.
*****
The hall was adorned with decorations that hung from the ceiling, among crystal chandeliers that shimmered in the lamplight. The marble floor a mosaic of colors.
Sion dressed in a black turtle neck sleeveless top; that hugged his chiseled torso, tucked into an olive organza pants that fluted at the base and hugged his ankles. He wore a gold chain around his neck and a crystal one that draped like falling stars around his waist.
He stood in a corner, scanning the large room, each person was dressed in their very best, engaged in one activity or the other. His eyes wondered form the glass to the large glass windows and back to the glass in his hand.
Maybe this was a mistake, he hadn't been to an event in five years and this felt like a bird with sore wings. He placed his glass on the table and turned to leave when he felt a warm hand grip him, he could recognize that grip even with his eyes closed.
He turned and there she was; Harrieta, rose fashioned out of the stars. She wore a long sleeve sapphire organza jumpsuit with a flowing bow behind her waist and pearls around her neck, her hair was pinned up behind her neck.
Her eyes cracked as her lips stretched into a smile. He turned to face her.
"Sister" he said, his voice soft and delicate. "You look radiant darling"
"Thank you" she said as she gave a curt bow. "And you look exquisite, a god among the stars"
His eyes cracked as his lips stretched into a smile.
"Brother" she said. "You should smile often, for it brings out all your beauty hidden within this hard exterior"
Sion turned from her gaze; his cheeks flushed. He reached to a vase that held a bouquet of flowers whose petals were like the night kissing the morning. The midnight blue blended into white at the base with the blue shimmering like it had been bathed in a generous number of powdered diamonds, the yellow anthers rose from within- a sun in the night.
He tugged at the delicate green base and it broke free, he turned to meet her gaze and tucked it in her hair.
"You my darling look like the goddess Chihadi; the goddess of beauty and spring and mesmerizing as Pinyxtia; the goddess of the night whose veil spreads across the sky, a tapestry of beauty beyond the stars."
Harrieta's cheek flushed into a bright red "Brother" she said in a whisper as she played with a loose lock of her hair that framed her face.
"You shouldn't say such things to your innocent sister, people would think we were courting."
He let out a chuckle, a crack of light through a dark hall.
Suddenly, the air is filled with music. Harrieta's eyes widen as she turned to the instrumentalist, her lips cracked into a smile as she turned to meet her brother's gaze.
"Brother" she said as she tugged at his hand- a child filled with delight.
"Do you remember this?" she asked.
How could he not, it was the dance that Baxston couldn't stop taking about.
"Brother" she said. "Dance with me."
His eyes widen as he sharpy met her gaze.
"Sister I-"
"Brother please" she said softly "Father isn't here to judge"
His eyes wondered from her to the marble floor, his brows crinkled.
He hadn't danced in a long time since his cousin thought him those steps five years ago. What if he messed up, what if they laughed at him.
She tugged gently at his arm, he turned slowly to meet her gaze.
"I am not sure if can remember."
"You may not but the heart does. It allows does." She said.
His lips stretched into a smile that didn't reach his eyes as he took a deep breath.
He followed her lead and they moved to the dance floor along with others.
Sion stood behind his sister as she stood with her legs crossed, her hands crossed above her head mimicking the pose of other ladies on the floor. His breaths came out in hitches as his body quaked, his eyes wondered from the audience to the windows and back to his sister.
The soft melody of the strings, his sister turned like a swan in a lake as Sion delicately held her waist.
"Sister" he said his voice shaking "I don't think I can do this."
"Brother" she said softly "Forget the crowd, they don't exist, a mirage. We stand her alone in the grand hall of the Perlin house, just you and me."
Sion exhaled slowly; he had not realized that he had been holding his breath.
The ladies danced around their partners- slow and deliberate – vipers assessing their prey.
Then came the gradual buildup of drums and shakers. The ladies gracefully left the dance floor, and the spotlight shifted to the boys.
They started moving, bouncing their feet simultaneously like jumping of hot coals at first Sion's steps faltered then he gradually found the rhythm. Then their entire bodies moved as one, their shoulders, and waists moved slow and deliberate like fishes trying to woo their partners.
Harrieta watched her brother dance, and her heart ached. She had never seen him like this-so free, so alive. She wished their mother could see him now. She wish she could stop pretending she wasn't terrified of what their father might do next.
Sion danced in sync with the teen boys and for once, he forgot that he was in the Perlin mansion. As the music built up as the other instrument blended in one glorious harmony, the ladies joined and the dance was a lovely spectacle- swarms moving through a great crystal lake.
His lips stretched into a smile; The music swelled around him, and for a moment—just a moment—he was not Sion Perlin, son of a monster. He was simply a boy, moving to the rhythm of a world that had not yet learned to hurt him.
*****
The moon sat high above the horizon—an eye in dark water. Alsheda stood in a garden, a hood over her head, her breath curling in the cold air. The breeze carried the scent of damp earth between her and the man who stood before her.
"I want you to keep an eye on my sister and her husband" she said her voice low and guided.
"Report anything as little as a squeeze to me. Use everything in your arsenal to make ensure this goes smoothly and unnoticed" she said as she hands over a pouch to him.
He bowed and walked away.
Alsheda gaze lingered on him until he vanished into the night. She had been a fox in a game of chess for years. But chess had rules. The father did not. And that terrified her more than she would ever admit.
She had failed to save their father. She would not fail to save Kimani. No matter the cost.