Kaya guided Sera as they walked around the empty town. She tightly held her arm and heard the sweet hums of the white-haired woman's voice resonate with her.
It was a calming tune that nearly made her forget about the wire, forget about the others, and forget about the very things that constantly plagued her.
Sera skipped elegantly on the sidewalk, whilst Kaya kept her feet close together, maintaining her silent steps.
The unease within the air dissipated and had flown with the distant wind that blew blades of grass aside. The scorching sun made Kaya wipe her forehead, yet when she sensed Sera's arm, not a drop fell off her delicate skin.
The woman's hums began to crescendo, and Kaya tapped her to tone it down.
She pouted, "But why? I heard the townsfolk love my music."
Kaya shook her head, "They're all hugging their pillows with smiles, wide eyes, or tears. Let them rest in their quiet homes."
Regardless, Sera kept humming, just a bit lower this time. Kaya didn't argue with it.
This is a frequency I can deal with. I enjoyed it when it was louder, but now it's low enough to not disturb others and enough to ease my heart.
I never knew beautiful sounds such as this could purify my mind. Her hums are like those of the nurses who tended to injured harmonizers in war, the military of Ishkana . . .
A sudden thought crossed Kaya's mind. One that made her heart return to its normal pace.
But she chose to ask it anyway.
She licked her lips, which lacked moisture. "Sera, might I ask, where did the name 'Ghigau' come across your mind?"
She quickly ripped off the bandage of the question.
. . .
Ambience. An uncomfortable one.
Sera waited a second before her hum slowly faded.
She pointed at Kaya. "It's you, Kaya. You know more about it than I do."
Kaya began to take quick breaths. "But what makes you think that?"
The air burned her skin, and she nearly shook as she held Sera's arm. For a second, Kaya almost steered them down the wrong path and adjusted herself.
She took a calm breath before Sera spoke.
"I felt the golden gaze sear through my white bandages. From that moment on, I had felt the dove of harmony embrace me."
Kaya let her mouth hang open, whispering, "But that could've meant that I'm a regular citizen of Ishkana."
. . .
"You do not have to lie to me, Kaya. You and your people don't enjoy lies, and neither do I."
. . .
Kaya gave an audible gulp at the sudden shift in Sera's voice.
It was angelically spoken, yet somber.
She looked at the words on her arm and realized that now she was an open book.
Sera flipped through her pages by holding onto her.
She laughed with a sense of awe.
Then, "No regular citizen of harmony with the golden gaze resides here. Harmonizers such as yourself simply don't get lost in a place like this. Only the weak, desperate, or exiled do . . . and given your words, you and I both know what it is."
"Do not lie, Kaya. You know it for a fact, and you cannot escape it, but why would you? It is a beautiful characteristic."
She whispered slowly, "You are one of the many aristocrats of Ishkana."
. . .
Her words wrapped around Kaya like barbed wire.
She mumbled, "No . . ."
Suddenly, Kaya sank. She crouched, letting go of Sera's arm.
Sera looked down at her, offering her arm again. "I knew you weren't supposed to be here, but I have long accepted you, for you chose to listen and soothed my day."
She added, "But you shouldn't push yourself away from the title. I, for one, think it's quite elegant."
Kaya mumbled under her breath, "You don't understand . . ."
Sera clicked her tongue. "Oh, but I do. The fact that you are here means that our time on this island won't be very long. It also means that I'll be on vacation soon, as my family will come back by then."
Kaya resisted tears and slowly stood up again. She was conflicted as to what to do next. She barely kept her footing as she tried to walk.
With bandages encompassing her delicate face, Sera brought her hand out. "Need help?"
Reluctantly, Kaya took it, and slowly but surely, they walked once more.
Except this time, Kaya was much quieter. She walked as loosely as a hanging paperback. The cover was laden with a plethora of wires, etching themselves into it.
. . .
Their quiet stroll lasted minutes before they finally reached a place that didn't appear to be a home.
They reached a small building with an open sign on it.
It read: Nawra Hall.
Sera muttered, "I sense this place. The hall. I've heard townsfolk call it 'hell' for some reason."
Kaya didn't respond.
Sera let go of her arm, noticing her blank expression. Kaya looked pale, as if the color had been stripped from her skin.
She sat down on the sidewalk in front of the hall and asked Kaya to sit down.
"C'mon, Kaya. Sit beside me. You'll calm down this way."
Following, Kaya sat in front of her, yet her eyes were empty, as if her vision was also covered with heavier bandages.
They stared at each other, but they did not see one another. All they saw was what they were burdened by.
It was a painful silence, a painful wait, yet neither of them spoke.
The hall watched as they sank further into the sidewalk.
Suddenly—
Gurgle . . .
A wet, visceral vibration eroded from the depths of the hall. It suffocated their ears, as they felt their bodies sink within the sidewalk.
They both faced the direction of the sound.
However, they froze.
They believed they were alone.
The town had lied to them.
The island had lied to them.
They had lied to themselves.
. . .
Meanwhile, in Penthos, they walked into a quiet room with three beds.
The blankets were disheveled, except for one on the far left, which only left the imprint of someone who sat on the bed. Malik immediately recognized it.
I once remember entering Lias's room back then, and he'd never cover himself with a blanket, as he loved the cold, and I once caught him sleeping with his arms crossed like that.
Malik quickly went over to sit at the edge of it. He thought to himself as he felt his body sink into the bed.
Standing beside him, Nadeem spoke to himself, yet Malik didn't understand what he was saying, as he was caught in his own epiphany.
Malik stared at the window and focused his gaze on it since he couldn't find any bars on it.
Everything is different on land.
It feels strange sitting in a bed without hearing the waves, nor seagulls above. This island, though many don't like it, has brought me more experience than I've seen throughout my life.
Is this really how people live their whole lives?
Besides that, I really need to ask Nadeem where he got the word Solythe from. I really don't understand why him saying it triggered that vision I once saw of the man named Mashia.
Malik turned his head as he planted his palms on the soft mattress. "Nadeem, you spoke of Solythe. Explain it."
The bartender had his back facing him as he looked through drawers and cabinets on the opposite end of the room.
"Such a simple question for such a subjective answer. Solythe is vibration, the difference between what makes something alive and something dead. It is what gives us our hue, the white in our eyes, and the streams in our blood."
Malik tilted his head. "So wouldn't that mean everyone has it? Why is it that some get to utilize it, yet some are never aware of it?"
Nadeem turned his body. "It is when your spirit has recognized it. Let me ask this: were you ever aware when you hit your growth spurt? When you grow hair? Or rather, when your nails grow?"
Malik shook his head. "I'm not following."
Nadeem sighed, then let out a slight laugh. "To be truthful, even I cannot form my own analogy for it. To ask that question is like asking how to see a new color."
After a second, a lightbulb lit over the bartender's head. "I remember a comparison a priest once gave me years ago that allowed me to enhance my Solythe."
He cleared his throat and slicked his hair back with four fingers.
"Imagine you are staring at a blank wall in a room without windows, and there's only a flickering light above. And gaining Solythe depends on your answer to this: 'From that moment onward, how can you be able to tell what time it is?'"
Malik thought carefully. "So it's like making something unconscious, like time, and wielding it to become conscious?"
Nadeem smiled. "That's a good way to put it. It's an awareness that one attains after achieving a cycle, like the priest once said."
Malik tapped his fingers on the bed. "A cycle, huh? But I ask, why must it be a room? People can't ever tell what time it is, even with the sun rising and falling."
Nadeem scratched his mustache. "It gives you a grasp of it."
"But a grasp isn't exact. People make their grasp on the exact, on what they think it is."
He pondered for a moment as Nadeem continued onward to his duty of cleaning up the cabinets for the next visitors.
Malik felt his mind in a daze as it juggled his thoughts.
I received his very own definition of Solythe, but it doesn't cut it for me. It does not seem to be my definition. He may have seen a blank wall and connected to it, but I haven't seen one.
Now, if I connect it to the ocean and the bars of my room, maybe then that could be my definition.
. . .
Malik's eyes lightened. "Nadeem, I believe I've figured it out."
"Give it to me," the bartender said with a clear voice.
Leaning back in the bed, his back pressed against the mattress, he spoke confidently.
"You were never told what time you entered the room, nor the way you were brought into it."
Nadeem turned his body and faced Malik, nodding.
Malik continued, "It doesn't matter about the lights flickering, your heart beating, or the times you blink, because that isn't objective. It's meant to mislead you. Forget the room. Why limit yourself to that?"
"It's all up to you to find that out, and from it, you can make your own time. As long as you are alive, no time has passed, because time only exists when you aren't dead."
Nadeem smirked. "You have to be the one in the room."
Malik sneered. "There doesn't have to be a room. You're trying to complicate something as simple as nature."
"The world tricks many more people than you think. There are people who go through their lives in imagination, who believe they live in it right now while in total comfort. The priest I once spoke with mentioned that."
"He also said that Solythe is about breaking regular. But time is different. He would've liked when you brought up how one feels when being brought into the room. It all varies."
Malik sat up. "So Solythe, in your words, is within the moment. There is no set of words that can develop it. And you can make your own truth from that."
Nadeem lightly nodded. "I believe so. I remember developing it here through tribulation I was never ready for."
"And have we both got it from our own personal experiences? I believe it is far more than experience, because you're limiting it to what you can see and calling that experience. 'Going through something' is kinda superficial."
"Perhaps, but it is not something you have or don't have. It grows like a plant, watered by that experience. Many stay as a seed, never learning it."
"But why is that? I heard that the world likes to hide things, to keep things for itself. If we make our own truth from this experience you say, how can we know we were never imagining in the first place? The world revolves around it, don't you think?"
He added, "People go through things every day, yet never learn. It could be what you take from it that makes the difference. Experience is also about what you hear, feel, smell, and taste. You cannot define it."
Nadeem looked up at the ceiling, impatient. "You may be right. But its the reason we survive out here, whatever it truly is. From all I've learnt, I know one objective truth here for sure. We want things for ourselves, our people in this island. That is why we are here. And we might pass another tribulation soon, and grieve once more."
"
Malik clicked his tongue. "But why Penthos? Maybe you label this as your experience because grief is what you understand. I once heard that the tribe of grief kills, then grieves afterward, hence the skulls."
Nadeem sighed. His tone shifted as his voice lowered.
"They misunderstand us because they choose to. We believe we kill because any death here we believe is our responsibility."
He paused.
"This is supposed to be a land of refuge, but all we can do is cry over what we've lost. I'm adept at holding back my tears, and because of that, I can listen to others without shedding my own in compensation."
He added, tapping his foot, "But I've come to a realization about you, Malik."
Malik's eyes imprinted onto the bartender's face.
"You haven't shed many tears, not for bits of your past nor your future, as you have been careful. But I knew from the moment you walked in, as I had been relieved."
Malik tilted his head. "Relieved?"
Nadeem calmly paced around the room.
"I know you aren't from this tribe, or any tribe for that matter. We will soon have another cycle to pass over and grow further."
They stared at each other, into the whites of their eyes like a blank wall.
This time, Malik felt years pass in the blink of an eye.
So this is what he meant . . .
A vibration culminated between the two, forming a deep, choking sound in the air.
Gurgle.
. . .