Lost Amid the Ocean of Lights

The Old Man couldn’t have died.

After attending to his family’s prayers weekly, he wouldn’t give up on his life so easily.

Others had stayed behind as well. Those rotten individuals wouldn’t have sacrificed themselves.

There had to be another way of surviving.

They knew what the fog was.

If they didn’t, why would the bell ring so early? People were running pretty soon.

They had to know about it.

This must have happened before. That’s why people stayed behind, certain they could survive without the carriages.

The Old Man was definitely alive.

“I haven’t failed yet,” I murmured. “I haven’t broken my promises.”

Rocked by the motion of the carriage, I found myself alone once again.

No matter where I went, loneliness always found me again.

Everything seemed to have been orchestrated, as though I had always been at the mercy of something else. I was merely a pawn to someone’s game, constantly within reach but with no way to promote.

I chuckled.

I must be playing myself. Delusional.

The water inside the jugs sloshed faintly, matching the uneven rhythm of the swaying carriage.

With every jolt, the ceramic ewers resonated hollowly, clinking and clattering as they grazed one another. Muted thuds from the vegetables and other supplies punctuated the silence, filling the void left by the dampened mood.

Beyond the sounds of the goods and the rustling trees outside, the sharp quietness among the people felt strangely eerie.

I looked at the faces of the other passengers.

A lingering sense of anxiety prevailed behind their generally cold expressions.

Some subtly quivered, but no one looked completely overwhelmed by the situation.

Except for me.

I laughed briefly.

Most of the passengers in this cart were dressed in armour, probably warriors of some sort, and those who weren’t had someone to mutually support them, such as the couple holding each other’s hand in front of me.

I had lost all support the moment I left Tristte.

This was my punishment.

After cheating death twice, I was left rolling the boulder up the hill, again and again.

Looking to the sky, where the gods' anger raged upon me, the clouds never seemed to dissipate. The temperature was still colder than usual.

Three hours had passed already, but nothing had changed.

The road curved occasionally, hiding the carts behind us with the same trees the forest had greeted me with on the other side. However, it felt completely different from my days of fending for myself.

The carriage behind ours came into view once more.

I stared at the bizarre animals and the man leading them. He guided the cart with an emotionless look on his face.

Our eyes briefly met. A blend of indignation and dread spilled across his face.

I swiftly turned away, locking my eyes once more on the floor beneath me.

Even inside the carriage, they never looked at me for long. When they did, discomfort spread across their faces.

No one wanted me there.

I finally understood the struggle the Old Man went through to secure my place.

Surrounded by corruption and greed, yet only I looked tainted.

And I hated myself for it.

Wanting to distract myself, I considered practising my mana handling to pass the time. I refused to focus my attention on the vermin beside me, so it would only be the basic meditation type.

I closed my eyes, desperate for a moment of solace.

It was difficult to ignore the overflowing guilt and the rush of thoughts in my mind. I sought refuge beyond those emotions, letting the grounding flow of mana consume me.

I took my time, slower than usual, and guided that energy through my limbs and fingertips.

It pulsed in a soothing rhythm, nothing like in the village.

I had missed this aspect of training in the forest.

Alongside the fluid mana of the outside world, I sensed distinct presences. In the cramped wagon, the mana from the other passengers resonated with my own.

I could even lightly interact with it.

Each source flowed differently, yet carried a personal touch. Their characters subtly reflected in the mana, perceptible only with higher focus.

I felt the irregular fluctuations but couldn’t sense where they came from.

I couldn’t tell whose mana was whose. All the energies merged into a pool I could only hope to control.

Yet it seemed plausible that, with enough skill, one might not only discern the sources of mana but even draw from them.

But it was far too early for me to even think about it.

The abrupt halt of the carriage shook me awake.

I suddenly opened my eyes.

It was already evening, and all the other carts had also come to a stop.

The wind had picked up slightly, and I was flooded by the smell of wood and greenery.

The same soldier from before stood up.

He proceeded towards the hinged wooden board, ducking his head to avoid hitting the ceiling.

After removing the metal rod locking it, he jumped down as the groan of the board dropping resonated. A dull thudding sound marked each step, raising a cloud of dust as the others followed.

I did the same.

While I lingered near the carriage for a bit, a mob of people gradually assembled near the trees, on the edge of the road.

Murmurs echoed throughout the crowd, accompanied by the loud wheezes and whines of the insects.

As the people crossed me, their gaze flicked from looking at me to facing forward. It turned fierce, slipping briefly to repulsion.

They didn’t see me as one of them. I felt it just as strongly.

Why was I there?

It felt sickening.

Disgust quickly turned to fear. It was always the same.

I feared their gazes.

I feared their very existence.

After the large group was gathered, some of the soldiers began taking provisions from the carts.

The carriages wobbled and cried as they were unloaded.

Turning my attention to the rest of the group, campfires were being built. I watched as the smoke trails rose to the skies, getting lost in the darkness of the night.

People’s fear steadily evaporated. It almost looked as though their village hadn’t been decimated hours ago.

Some still grieved, but others smiled as if nothing had happened.

“I hate them so much…” I blurted in a whisper.

There was nothing admirable about human nature.

Humanity as a species was deeply flawed.

I felt like an enraged teen revolting against the world. I was pathetic, but that was exactly how I felt about it all.

I laughed at myself.

I was pretentious through and through.

I avoided eating with the villagers and dived into the bread in my bag, knowing it would be the first thing to go stale.

I didn’t know where we were heading or when we would arrive, so I preferred to save my food reserves.

I certainly didn’t want to rely on the food they were passing around. They would likely refuse me anyway.

My only real issue was water.

This time, there was no river nearby. At the very least, I couldn’t hear any bubbling or gurgles of water coming from any direction.

I had to request it from them.

I lay down beside the carriage, my head resting on my backpack and my spear tucked between me and the cart.

Then, I turned my eyes to the sky.

Unfortunately, I was never good with stars.

I couldn’t tell one from another, even if my life depended on it. Staying inside for years made me miss the beauty of the starry night.

Merely a sliver of the crescent moon remained, its elegant gleam fading quickly as it plunged below the horizon.

I reached out towards it, but there was nothing to grab.

Not even a ripple marked the sky’s surface.

Amidst the darkness, tinges of purple drifted aimlessly, and soft blue hues swirled like oil across water, untouched, unbothered by my presence.

The ocean above, its lights scattered all around, was immeasurably far from me.

The scenery was astoundingly beautiful, yet I couldn’t stop myself from tearing up.

Why?

Why was looking at the stars enough for me to cry?

Deep down, I knew the answer.

Feigning ignorance was most likely a coping mechanism.

Even though I didn’t believe in the existence of souls and saw death as the end of the human consciousness, gazing at the stars brought back memories of both Yrish and the Old Man.

It felt as if their presence blended in with the several lights. They were lost in that glowing maze, and I could no longer save them.

“I get attached way too quickly,” I muttered, crying.

“Perhaps being alone for too long affected me way beyond what I imagined,” I ended in a nervous giggle.

After a few minutes, the chatter died down.

People packed the leftover food and began boarding the carriages again.

When I spotted the armoured guy from before, I hesitantly signalled to him.

He paused and stared at me with displeasure.

Trembling slightly, I tried my best to mimic drinking, hoping to persuade him to let me drink some of the water.

He clicked his tongue.

Setting down the jugs he carried, he took the lid off of one of them and extended it to me.

It took me by surprise.

I hadn’t expected him to even acknowledge my request, let alone fulfil it.

I reached for the jug and gulped down the last of the water. It wasn’t much, but I still felt grateful for his actions.

I bowed my head to thank him while he snatched the empty ewer from my hand.

He was likely only complying because the Old Man had urged him to.

That had to be the case.

I still loathed them. If there was compassion beneath their expressions, everything I had built in my head would crumble in an instant.

They were rotten to the core.

They had to be.

Everyone was already inside the carts.

The steady shuffling of footsteps had ceased.

I pushed myself up and grabbed my things. After shaking the dust off my cloak, I entered the wagon.

The couple leaned into each other for support, while most of the soldiers sprawled against the sacks of food.

A faint glimmer clung to the corners of their eyes.

The faint sound of snoring gradually grew louder as more people drifted off to sleep, resting in preparation for the next day’s journey.

Soft cries whispered through the air.

One of the soldiers exited the cart, a sword hanging at his waist, and stood next to the entrance.

They were probably taking turns keeping an eye out during the night.

I didn’t feel safe, but there was no reason not to trust their guarding duties. I wasn’t the only one they were protecting after all.

Despite my restlessness, I decided to try sleeping while I could.

I remembered the blanket I had stuffed inside my bag, but I couldn’t force myself to take it out.

Its warmth still felt too heavy in my mind.

I was so weak.

Leaning against the wall of the carriage, with my bag supporting my drooping head, I breathed in slowly with my eyes closed.

The serenity it brought me cleared my head briefly, just enough to fall asleep.