"Black water . . ." the people murmured.
It smelled like an old candle, one that brought back distant memories that one would want to store away.
On one side of the crowd, people shouted, "He is a Seeker! The darkness is within him!"
On the other side, they shouted, "He is a Blessed! The darkness has left him!"
Veins snaked across Malik's throat as his eyes were irritated.
They were red, raw, and racing with blood filling his sclera.
The entirety of Selicha stepped back in utter awe as he leapt from the tub of his baptism.
A dark town bled across blurry faces mixed with charcoal and grey within his view, and his damp hair hung in front of his gaze.
His jaw was clenched, his face was hollow, and his eyes were piercing. He looked like he fell from the sky and came in contact with the earth for the first time.
The air was awfully warm, and sweat dripped in a black hue.
At times, the crowd looked behind Malik as if they heard someone louder than them. Someone golden.
Malik's grey eyes within red whites analyzed the crowd. Then, he spotted the one he was looking for.
"You there." He pointed, his muscles poking out of his skin.
The man came forward with thick-framed glasses. He adjusted his suit, and stared blankly into Malik's face.
His thin lips spoke no lies, and his long nose hadn't smelt the odor of smelting coal that emitted from him.
The smell of burning fuel entered Malik's nostrils, and his pupils dilated.
The grey-eyed figure pounced forward. In that moment, the man saw his life flash before his eyes, but instead he heard a question.
"What provoked you to do that to me?" Malik asked.
The man responded without concern, "The world has given you an old name, now you get the chance to show it a new one."
"And what does that mean?" Malik gritted his teeth.
"Now, since you are anew, you are allowed to lead a life with a new name." The man said.
Malik palmed his face, and resisted the urge to unsheathe his blade from his pocket.
What is this? Anger? I've never sensed such an urge to hurt a man since . . .
Ahhhhh!
Malik nearly fell from passing out. He gripped the silky cloth, and took many deep breaths.
His veins popped even further, as he had bottled a storm within his body since the incident at the courthouse.
He observed the black water once more, and stared at the dark reflection.
However, all he could see was his look of impatience, resentment, and contempt.
The man came forward, and placed four fingers on his back, "This is just culture, it surprises many new folks-"
"Enough with rituals!"
. . .
Malik barked ferociously. His skin was crimson, and his nails were white. He lacked the oxygen to breathe, but could only force that last sentence out.
Slowly, he began to collapse.
As he descended, he mumbled, "Why aren't any of you normal . . ."
All of a sudden, Malik felt his body being supported.
A certain warmth he recognized had lifted him.
When he regained the strength to turn his head, a tan face with a golden headband and traditional quilt-clothing with etched eyes had supported him.
"Awan?" Malik asked.
"You went looking for me, Malik? I'm so sorry for worrying you guys. You look . . . different." The golden-mouthed man spoke.
His tan, healthy appearance contrasted with the mundane apparel of the rest of the town.
Awan assisted Malik back up, and he stared at the crowd which stared back.
However, something was different. They had split into two parts. One side was cheering his name, and the other was condemning him.
"Blessed blade! He saved Marah from the evil council, and allowed Selicha to wake up!"
"Sinful Seeker! He harmed, and has taken human life, and Selicha has left out of fear, grief, and our sake!"
Malik's blood pulsed, stepping towards the side that opposed him. In the front stood the man with the charcoal-smelling suit.
"You spoke of names, tell me yours." He said.
The man rubbed his long nose, and uttered through thin lips without shame, "I am Hurt."
Sloshing, the blur mixed on his face as Malik responded, "As am I."
The rushing blood subsided for a moment as his color returned to a pale complexion.
"It is a name that me and my peers have accepted. However, we are unsure if you are forgiven enough to handle a new name, Seeker." Hurt added.
Seeker . . . I've heard that word before.
"I don't need a new name, my name is Malik. A name I cannot let go of, as I have chosen to stick by it." Malik responded.
Hurt hung his mouth slightly open, as he turned back to the crowd, and murmured to them.
Malik tilted his head, "Since your name is Hurt, what have you been forgiven for?"
Hurt gulped, "It is who I am."
Malik surveyed the people with blurry stone-faced expressions behind Hurt.
"And what was your old name?" He asked.
Hurt's eyebrows raised, "Pardon me? You ask of my old name?"
Malik nodded. Awan stepped beside him, listening in to the conversation.
The other side of the town stood mesmerized at Malik's demeanor.
"Blessed, blessed, oh how blessed he is . . ." They whispered.
Awan caught it, but Malik still focused on Hurt stumbling through the backlogs of his memory.
Hurt sighed, "I'm sorry." He paused, stiff. "I cannot tell you, for I do not remember."
. . .
The canvas of the blurry-faced town smudged into an ugly black, where all that was left was a forgotten blur. A dull grey faced Malik, a grey filled with dull memories.
Suddenly, Malik stomped to the middle of the town, between both sides, "I am going to point at you people, and you must tell me your name, and how you attained it."
Malik stomped his foot on the ground, leaving a noticeable crater in the floor as dirt clouded.
In an instant, he snapped a finger at a random person on the side that favored him, "Tell me."
A dainty woman with a straight smile and beady eyes spoke with a monotone voice, "I am Angst. I lived in Nawra, but now I have become someone better."
Malik snapped again, "And your old name?"
Angst scrolled through her catalogue of monotonal thoughts, yet only gave a weak shrug.
Don't tell me . . .
From afar, Awan palmed his face as he watched Malik's face fall into a daze of confusion.
Malik spiraled his body in all directions, ultimately snapping his finger at a random boy in the middle of the crowd that opposed him.
Wait a minute, that boy, he looks like me . . .
Malik pointed, "Tell me."
The boy coughed lightly. He had grey eyes and dark hair that reminded Malik of himself, "My name is, uhh . . . Lie. My Dad said it wasn't right for a boy my age, so I renewed."
"And do you know your old name? Please, just tell me you do . . ."
An older man with grey hair tapped the boy on his shoulder, shaking his head and mouthing, "No."
The boy turned, and gave no response, only staring deeply at Malik.
Lie. I hated lies, but he looks just like me.
For a while, Malik pointed at random civilians, but they all gave around the same answers.
In his mind, he tried looking for the veiled white-haired woman, who he saw all too clearly in the black town, but she wasn't there.
Pure darkness sprawled around him in two sides, yet he couldn't even discern which was which anymore.
Layers of floors on conflicting sides with cheering voices, and condemning voices began to ring in a gold court.
No, not there. This can't be happening again . . .
Malik looked around, and couldn't find Guan Sui this time. There weren't any golden threads to be untied.
Instead, he looked down, and realized that he had tied himself with black threads.
Point after point, finger after finger, name after name, it all ended the exact same.
"Hurt, Angst, Lie . . . Ego, Lust, Rage, Mistake, Trust, Leave, L-Love? How can you people look at these things and see something to want to be forgiven of? You have lost the definition of it long ago." Malik clasped his hair, as he slowly muttered.
Despite his claims, they stared at each other as if he were an entertainer trying to bore them.
After a second, Malik stared at the sky in silence, looking for what to say next.
In the sky, the last blue lights remained, where he could see away from this darkness.
Ultimately, both sides of the town disputed their opposing ideas on Malik, but did nothing to him. It was as if he was an object to them.
"Blessed! Blessed! Blessed!" The dark shouted.
"Sinful! Sinful! Sinful!" The dark also shouted.
They jumbled, all mixing into one unanimous voice.
All of a sudden-
. . .
From the tub, the black water flooded, and consumed the entire area.
The people were unfazed as they breathed through it.
The noise drowned out.
The eyes still stared, but they stayed quiet to listen.
"I am the Bayonet."
He held an obsidian dagger in his palm, swiftly gliding it in the air for all shadows to see.
Malik stepped into the ink-black space with impossible geometries of cascading mountains with the names of those they believed were forgiven.
This time, he didn't see a gravestone in front of him. Instead, he smiled, as he saw himself being born, or rather, unsheathed.
He laughed, "I never got the chance to say this in front of people before. It's so relieving that nobody shouts at me now, they just listen. Maybe you people aren't so bad after all, haha."
He continued, pacing around the void, "The other realms were cunning, dangerous, unassuming, yet I see that you people hold your hearts in the right places at the very least."
Spreading his arms wide, "I have baptized myself in blood, tears, and water, and I name myself the Bayonet, as I have harmed with it, and saved with it. If I had the opportunity to truly bond with it, I would take it without a second's hesitation."
Malik smiled, staring outward at the future he foresaw with the blade.
Then, the abyss dissipated, fragmenting into little pieces. The light crept back in, as Malik shielded his eyes from the sunlight above.
. . .
The voices began to crescendo.
They repeated it again, like a motto for their respective truths, only to lead to no agreement.
"Blessed! Blessed! Blessed! He did the right thing! There was no other way to do it, he is the absolute good that this island has needed for years!" The favoring dark shouted.
"Sinful! Sinful! Sinful! He did the wrong thing! There were many other ways to do it, he is the absolute evil that this island has tried to push away for years!" The opposing dark also shouted.
Awan stood behind Malik, clenching his fists tightly with white nails.
"Malik, you're awake, you were zoning out for a while, just silent. I've been trying to calm these people for minutes now."
Malik tensed, and immediately stood up, "Did you not hear anything I said?"
Awan rolled his eyes to the right, "You said they lost the definition of forgiveness long ago, then you blanked. Since you went quiet, they just repeated this again, as if that's all they can talk about."
Malik hung his head, and sat down. The ground was oddly warm, and consoling.
His body sank into the dull road under him. As he submerged, he pondered to himself.
Why do I even do this? Why, land? You have brought me the oddest of days, and you expect me to appreciate that?
I wanted people to speak to, places to explore, but all you have given me is walls of different textures . . .
Then, a rupturing noise broke his thought. He snapped out of his bubble, and returned to Selicha.
"Enough! How can you be so ignorant when you nearly compromised one's life? Is that what you call forgiveness?"
With such ferocity, Awan barked at both sides.
Malik could only whisper to himself as he felt his spark ignite.
"Awan . . ."