His Ramblings:Broken Reflections

They sat down under a tree, with Eve waiting for Josh to start explaining. Josh stared out into the distance, trying to arrange his thoughts.

"As you might have suspected, I am not an Empowered. It is true that I'm High-blood born, but I'm a bastard. Therefore, the chances of me awakening a variant of my family's blood gift were only fifty percent, and unfortunately, when I was of age, I failed to awaken my blood gift. My failure made it more difficult to stay in a noble house, so at just 16 years of age, I left home to go study art in the neighboring state of Paer. And for some few years, I thought I was fine with being powerless, but everything changed when the Mirrored invaded my school and drowned the whole place in blood. Because I come from a noble house that majors in warfare, I had learned how to protect myself from an early age, but the same could not be said about my friends. I watched helplessly as the Mirrored tore through my friends. Too shaken to even move, a Mirrored was about to chop my head, but luckily, a group of Empowered arrived, and I was saved." He paused and closed his eyes as the images of that dreadful day emerged from the depths of his subconscious mind.

"After surviving that incident, my mental health went under. The trauma from what I had witnessed kept me from sleeping at night. In a foreign state, alone with no one to turn to, I made a promise to myself to pursue strength above all else. And so, I began my research. I discovered some things that left me puzzled, like the existence of sorcery—a power so great that it was feared by the Holy Congress and the Unified States. I dug some more information and found out that there were three different types of sorcery ever recorded—" Eve interjected in a low voice.

"Spell-casting, inscribing, and summoning sorcery." Josh nodded and continued.

"Yes, those three were the only types of sorcery ever recorded, or so they said. But as you know, sorcery is a forbidden practice banned by the Congress and the Unified States. I decided to leave the Unified States and go on a voyage, searching for the wastelands beyond the seas, where sorcerers ran amok. On my journey, I discovered that to be a sorcerer, you needed to possess an affinity to it, and sadly, I had no affinity for all three. I thought of giving it all up. After all, it had been over two years of no results, but then..."

Josh paused, and his eyes drifted away, lost in thought.

"On a stormy night, in the middle of the sea, a small ship creaked and groaned as it battled against the storm. Young Josh clung to the railing, his caramel skin glistening with rain and sea spray. His usually neat raven hair plastered to his scalp, and his eyes were wide with anxiety. 'Boy, get below deck!' a middle-aged man, who Josh quickly recognized as the captain, yelled above the din of the storm. 'This is no weather for a landsman!' Josh hesitated; he could not simply leave the rest of the crew to deal with this all by themselves. But the sheer force of the storm was unlike any other he had experienced the past two years—it was both terrifying and exhilarating. 'Joshua, now!' the captain bellowed, grabbing him by his arm and pulling him towards the hatch. Josh stumbled down the ladder, his stomach lurching as the ship pitched and rolled. The air below deck was thick with the smell of sweat, tar, and fear. With the light from the lantern, he noticed two other people who were down here, huddled together by a corner. Josh recognized them as two of the missing crew members. Glancing at them for a short while before being thrown off balance and hitting the floor with a loud thud. As the storm raged, Josh felt a sense of uneasiness growing inside of him. He had decided to return home and focus on his research, but now it appeared as though he was never going to make it home. Thunder roared, and in that moment, Josh went on his knees and started praying, something he had stopped doing since his mother's passing.

"Our Creator, lost in eternity, our Father, from beyond, I come to you as I am. Forgiveness is your nature, and I ask of you to forgive my wrongdoings. I have led a sinful life, astray from your love. Forgive me, and bless my soul—" The prayer was cut short as the whole ship overturned, throwing Josh and the two other crew members in the air before they came back down with incredible force. He groaned as he slowly got up from the ground, looking at the condition of the ship, he knew that within a moment, water would start pouring in from the various gaps in the ship. Then a realization hit him—the captain was gone, and so was the rest of the crew. The lantern went off, and water started leaking in. Momentarily, he froze, not knowing what to do, but then it hit him—maybe it really was his day.

"Death by drowning, who would have thought?" He chuckled right before sitting down with his knees pulled up to his chest, his back resting against the cold, damp wood. The water lapped around him, slowly rising, creeping up to his waist, then chest. His clothes clung to him, soaked and heavy, but he made no attempt to escape. Instead, his mind was focused, feeling the water slowly inching up. His breathing was slow, measured, each inhale deliberate, each exhale mirroring a soft sigh. There was no panic in him, no thrashing, no desperate scramble to survive. The cold, salty water soaked through his clothes, the chill seeping into his bones, but it didn't seem to matter. His hands, resting limply in his lap, twitched occasionally, but he didn't push against the rising tide. A faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he remembered a poem he once wrote while feeling down. Clearing his throat, he began reciting with a shaky voice:

"I am washed away, like the sand on the shore,

Gone before they could adore.

Ignored, for they loved the ocean more,

And every single day, a piece of me was washed away,

Slowly vanishing, away from the face of the earth,

But in the face of the sea, what more am I than a grain of sand,

Awaiting to be washed away—"

The water level had risen above his head, and Josh twitched for a short while before stopping. His chest barely rose with each breath, as if the struggle had drained out of him. In that quiet, water-filled tomb, Josh's mind was far away, adrift in thoughts that seemed just out of reach, as though the cold, dark depths of the ocean had already begun to claim him—body, mind, and soul.

*****

Josh's eyes fluttered open, the world around him a blur of movement and noise. His chest felt tight, as though the air was too thick to breathe. And when he tried to speak, he ended up coughing violently, coughing up a handful of water. He tried to focus his blurry vision on the people surrounding him. His vision slowly adjusted to the world around him, and his eyes widened at the sight of an unfamiliar race of people standing before him with worried gazes.

He attempted to stand up but ended up falling back down, giving up, he resorted to sitting and studied his surroundings carefully. He could hear the whispers among the people, strange whispers, in a language unfamiliar to him. The salty breeze of the sea indicated that he was not too far away from the coast. He turned his focus to the people surrounding him with curious gazes.

Dressed in clothing he had never seen before—intricate, beautifully patterned robes and tunics made of woven fabrics that gleamed with gold and silver thread. Some wore cloaks adorned with what appeared to be feathers or beads, and their jewelry—necklaces, bracelets, and earrings—glinted with vivid stones.

A young woman stepped forward, her face painted with delicate, swirling designs in gold and white, with a serious but not unfriendly expression. She stood tall, the folds of her robe fluttering gently in the breeze. Her hair styled in braids that coiled and twisted in elaborate patterns. Josh carefully observed the woman, his heart pounding as he tried to appear calm on the outside.

The woman opened her mouth to speak, her soft and delicate voice instantly capturing his full attention.

"Sawilha mo nit ermba?"

Josh was suddenly brought back to his senses after hearing the unfamiliar language. Rubbing his temples, thinking of a way to break the language barrier, the young woman spoke again, repeating the same words.

"Sawilha mo nit ermba?"

This time, her tone was slightly less charming than before, and Josh assumed that she was slowly getting frustrated. He decided to answer, even though he knew it would make no difference.

"I do not understand what it is that you are trying to tell me, my lady?"

For a brief moment, he thought he had seen her roll her eyes. She opened her mouth again to speak, leaving Josh dumbfounded the very next moment.

"I asked which language do you speak?"