The air in here is thick with stagnant breaths of men who have lived way too long for their age. The Malak in me wants to recoil. I want to pinch my nose or hold my breath but unfortunately, I can't.
Looking closely, I see that these men are nothing like the Night Child; there is no "ancient darkness" in them, only the petty, gray shadows of human law. They wield no weapon, wear no masks, and the solid silver hair on their heads tells just how far they've lived.
I stand in the center of the room, shoulders stiff as a board, head slightly lowered in respect. Feeling the weight of Abel's crime press down on me like this heavy fur on my shoulders.
I tilt back to find Isha standing behind me. Whatever reason she's here for doesn't matter, I just feel... relieved knowing she's still here – even though it seems like I'm throwing death glare at her right now.
The Elders – four of them – are seated on a raised dais of stone with wooden railings constructed around it for support and safety against falling off. Their faces are maps of wrinkles, judgment and... exhaustion. But at least one of them looks easy on the eye; the one in the center. He's the... oldest I guess. Because he looks... way older.
Four seats are occupied, three are empty. I guess some of the elders withered over time?
I really hope their absence has nothing to do with the Night Child's doing.
"Abel..."
They echo Abel's name in unison, almost like a practiced act. And just then, my knees bend forward instantly, lowering until they touch the ground. My upper body follows after, holding a bow.
"Your slumber finally comes to an end... at last..."
"But you return to us – not as the Chief we all respect..."
"Or the son who puts others needs before his own..."
"You return with blood on your hands..."
"Anger in your heart..."
"Defiant..."
"Blind..."
"You return with no remorse..."
Their accusations hang in the air like a double edged sword, heavy and jagged. I feel Abel's pulse begins their familiar, violent thrumming against my ribs now.
"I am not here to plead innocent, Zaqen," I muffle out, still rooted on the spot; arms above my head, forehead pressed to the ground. Breathing dirt like I deserve any of this.
"It's true. It's all true. I deserve punishment, for killing my brother, who has done absolutely nothing but keep his people safe; safe from the very witch who now walk amongst us. I have no excuse for my actions either... and I dare not run, until Zaqen reduces me to ash."
"We need the truth..."
"You slumbered for over ninety days..."
"We need to know why..."
"We need to know if you are still Abel, son of Adam – son of the First Man..."
"Or has the witch turned you into one of her things."
Abel let out a short, dry laugh. It's the "hysterical" laugh I caught from the Night child at the stream moments ago.
"Her... 'things'?" I repeat, then rise to my feet, ignoring the way Isha gasps behind me. Signaling that it wasn't yet time to rise.
"You think she 'turned' me into her slave? I am still the same person, Zaqen. I'm still my father's son – I'm still the same man you crowned as your chief. I am still me – that's why I stand before you, seeking punishment – because that's the right thing to do —"
"He has gone mad..."
"He stands before us, dishonest..."
"Arrogant..."
"A slap to the face."
"But, that's the truth! Cain was my brother. If anyone had done this – If anyone had killed him – I wouldn't spare them! So why won't you punish me?!"
"You did not kill Cain with your heart..."
"You killed Cain with your very hands..."
"Eyes sealed shut..."
"Your actions followed a command no one but yourself heard..."
"And you come to us under that same command..."
"Not because you've committed a crime..."
"Not out of remorse..."
"But from a command that no one but yourself heard..."
I recoil. "But I've told you why I'm here; body and spirit! What do you want from me –
"Tell the truth..."
"First, you slumbered for forty two days..."
"And again for ninety three days..."
"We need to know why..."
"We need to know if you are still Abel, son of Adam. Son of the First Man..."
I pause, thinking.
I understand what the elders are saying and it's appalling just how they could see how far Abel has changed with just a single glance. And Abel knows this too. Deep down he knows the elders are right, the Night child did do something to him. Although I wasn't there when Abel got his first bite, but I'm certain that the problem began from there.
Abel can't lie to them, and if he tells the truth, the Night child might not remain safe after.
"Who... are... you..."
I look up slowly to lock my gaze with theirs. My heart rate suddenly becoming steady and quiet now. For some weird reason their faces don't scare me anymore. I look them right in the eye without blinking. Without breaking the connection, my hand clenching into a fist at my side.
"I am the one who chose the dark over light… and if I should be pardoned – granted a second chance – I'll choose it again and again. I am the one who watched as your people condemned Ganya to death. I watched, day and night as she suffered; starved, beaten, spat on, stoned at, cursed at without getting any intervention from anyone!" I take a light step forward. "I am Abel. I am my father's son; he was a fighter and also a lover. I remember his words vividly "Love breaks. Love destroys. Love brings war. But at the end... love heals. Love gives. Love protects." God created my father out of love, and he entrusted everything he created onto my father because of trust. Zaqen, I do not want to be trusted or loved if it meant turning my back on the truth. And I have seen the truth.m," I look around the hut. "It is not with here."
"The witch has rotted his mind..."
"Then end the rot!" I say, taking another light step. "If I am a murderer, execute me. If I am a madman, burn me alive. I am standing here, present and willing to accept whatever punishment you throw at me. I'm asking you to do what you feel is right."
The silence that follows is thick enough to choke on. The Elders exchange looks of genuine terror. Usually you beg for your life… life is precious after all and by the look on their faces, they expected a plea for mercy; they didn't expect a man to demand his own destruction.
"You want to die?"
I pause again, thinking.
Abel's mind drifts back to the Night Child and what she told him by the stream… about breaking their connection.
"Beautiful cage," Abel had asked, confused. "You think being in love with you isn't out of free will? You think being bonded with you automatically makes me your slave?"
"How certain are you that your actions aren't born from my thoughts? Abel? You killed your own blood for me. What would you do next? Who will you kill tomorrow for my sake? This isn't you."
"No, this is me... this is what I want, no matter the cost. To be with you –"
"And you will..." she said. "No one is going to take that away from you. Look, nothing would happen to you if I should die tomorrow. It might be painful – your heart might even stop for a moment, but know this… my soul doesn't just leave this body – it finds a new vessel and continues from there. But if you die tomorrow... you won't be reborn like me, Abel. Your soul will travel to the spirit realm and stay there for eternity. That's why nothing should happen to you." She cupped my cheek with a hand, cold as ice. "You have to let me die!"
"Abel!" The elders exclaimed in unison, bringing Abel – and me back to reality.
Weird, for a moment I thought I heard a thunder clap.
"We do not have the patience to entertain daydreaming."
"I wish to be reduced to ashes." I reply, Abel's thoughts drifting back to the Night child standing at the entrance of his hut. I bet she already knew what Abel was planning to do. She knew Abel would want to hurt her back by getting himself killed.
One of the elders leans back, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his thin lips. He doesn't look like he wants to kill me anymore. He looks like he's found a way to hurt me worse. And if he's found a way, so as the others – I just know it. It's almost as if... their minds are connected.
"No..." they say in unison.
"Death is a mercy for the weary..."
"And you have a debt to pay to the people..."
"Death is repaid by death..."
"But the punishment for a Chief who abandoned his people – and duty for a witch... that is Erasure."
I feel Abel's chest tighten now. "Erasure?" I mutter.
"You ask to be burnt alive..."
"But that would be too easy..."
"Too swift..."
"Instead..."
"You will live..."
"But not as Abel..."
"Not as the son of Adam."
"Starting tonight, you are nothing..."
"You will be stripped of your identity..."
"No one in this village – not your friends..."
"Not the people..."
"Not even the children – is permitted to speak to you..."
"To look at you is to look at a wall..."
"Whoever feeds you..."
"Or steps an inch closer to you..."
"Will share your fate..."
"You will wander this village for as long as you live..."
"But only as a ghost roaming among the living..."
"You shall do this until the dust itself forget you were ever created from it."
"No," Behind me, I hear Isha let out a muffled sob. "No... please." She drops to her knees, head buried to the ground. "There must be another way to punish him. Please! I beg you."
"This..."
"Is..."
"Your..."
"Punishment..." the elders say in unison, and the cruelty in their eyes is now a living thing.
The Law of the Elders is absolute. Isha knows it, Abel knows it too; he knows pleading would be a complete waste of time, and that's why he says nothing. He simply accept his fate.
"And Ganya?" I ask, voice still in its calm grace.
They look up slowly, almost reluctantly, their voices dropping to a whisper, cold and precise.
"The witch will not be executed..."
"Not yet..."
"We know of the bond you share..."
"We know her life is linked with yours..."
"So, we will keep her in the Iron Well..."
"She will be fed just enough for you to stay alive and carry out your Erasure..."
"You may be free to roam the village, but you are not allowed to see her..."
"You may feel her pain through the bond you share..."
"But you will never be able to reach her..."
Finally, I feel a blow to the chest that didn't require a fist. I mentally recoil in pure, celestial horror. This is worse than death.
"You are making her a prisoner to keep me in my punishment?" I roar, the sound tearing through Abel's throat. I move to lung toward the dais, but the two guards are on me in an instant, their heavy hands pinning my arms. If I didn't see them standing among the shadows earlier, I would've thought they appeared out of thin air.
Adrenaline surges through my veins, hot and electric, and before I can even blink –
I snap my head forward, catching the guard on my left square in the nose. A crunch echoes in the silent hut. He yelps, his grip slackening just enough. Then I wrench my arm free and drive my elbow into the ribs of the second guard.
He grunts, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp hiss. And I don't simply wait for them to recover, I spin and dash toward the dais.
The first guard stumbles after me, his face a mask of blood, but Abel is faster, fueled by rage. I twist free and spring onto the first step of the dais, my fingers gripping the carved wood of the railing.
The second guard reaches for my ankle, but I kick backwards, catching him square in the forehead with the heel of my feet. His eyes roll back, and he collapses, unmoving.
Silence descends on the room, heavy and final. I stand at the edge of the dais, chest heaving, beads of sweat streaming down my temples.
I finally turn, fully ascending the steps to stand before the shocked faces of the council.
Wow.
What an amazing view.
With each step I take, the ground reduces in size. It's almost as if the dais is mounted at the top of the world – I've not even reached the top yet and I'm already having the unmistakable sensation of power and control.
Abel lets out a dry laugh.
"No wonder." I murmur.
I stand a few feet away from them, the height turning the elders into small, trembling figures. Abel doesn't shout; he doesn't need to. The silence in the room is so brittle it feels like it might shatter under the weight of my breathing.
I lean forward, the shadows of the hall stretching behind me like wings. "She has nothing to do with Cain's death. Touch a single hair on her head... I dare you," I say, the words vibrating deep in my chest. It isn't a plea. It's a low, serrated growl that crawls across the floor and curls around their necks.
One of them starts to speak, his lips quivering, but I bared my teeth. The sound that leaves my throat is primal, like a warning tremor before an earthquake.
"Let... her... go," I command, my voice dropping an octave until it's barely a whisper, yet loud enough to fill every corner of the chamber. "Or I swear on my dead parents... there will be no one left to occupy these seats after I put an end to your misery."
I watch the blood drain from their faces. They look at the guards groaning on the floor, then back at me.
"No..." they say in unison, looking up at me with pity.
The words hit me like a physical blow, more violent than any guard's strike.
No?
My heart skips a beat, then begins a frantic, uneven thud against my ribs.
I wasn't expecting that. And I believe Abel is as surprised as I am too.
"This is your fate..."
"If you want her free..."
"You must find a way to die that we did not ord to..."
"But remember..."
"If you die by your own hand..."
"The village will set the Iron Well on fire while she is still inside..."
"Her end will be a slow scream, and your soul will carry it into the next world."
The air in the chamber suddenly turns to ice. I can feel the color draining from my face this time, leaving me hollowed out.
Funny enough, the rage that fueled my climb up the dais vanishes, replaced by a cold, paralyzing terror. I look at the elders, but their faces are a blur of cruel satisfaction.
Then the room falls into a very loud silence, the ringing in my ears fades, and the only sound left in the world is the ragged, shallow hitch of my own breathing.