Tales of The Primordial Dawn

As night blankets the camp, a heavy snowfall muffles the noise, transforming our surroundings into an eerie, silent world. At the heart of our tribe, the fire dances with a wild, untamed energy, casting shadows that flicker and dance across the frozen ground. The remaining Ashaya gather around it, a mere sixteen of us where twenty had stood not so long ago. My eyes scan the group, each face a poignant reminder of the bitter cost of survival.

Laid out before us are our fallen brethren, their bodies stilled by the icy grip of death. Odhran, Finley, Yenar, and Akara, each resting with their arms crossed over their chest, waiting to embark on their journey to the other side. My throat tightens as I regard them, the finality of their stillness stirring a grief that claws at my chest, a raw, gaping wound.

Rasha stands before us, her long gray hair tied in a braid that falls against her back. Her blue eyes, usually so stern, hold a softness tonight, a gentleness that mirrors the sorrow etched on every face. She begins to speak, her voice rising and falling with the rhythm of the wind, each word a solemn promise, a testament of remembrance.

"Our kin fought bravely," she begins, her voice ringing clear in the quiet night. "Each one of them laid down their lives so that we may live ours. And Akara, our wise and revered leader, who has guided our tribe for as long as memory serves... each one of us bears a lesson taught by him."

Her words weave a tapestry of memory, honoring those who'd fallen and reminding us of their enduring presence. She speaks of our resolve, of the steadfast spirit of the Ashaya, and I feel a quiet strength taking root within me.

"And while we stand here, they prepare to make their journey to our ancestors," Rasha continues, her voice unwavering. "Theirs is not a tale of loss, but of a journey fulfilled."

With those words, she reaches into a small pouch at her side, withdrawing a handful of herbs. As she tosses them into the fire, the flames roar and dance, turning a mystical green. The smoke it gives off is thick and heavy, wafting through the air and cloaking us in a blanket of warmth and serenity.

In the flickering glow of the green-tinted fire, each member of the Ashaya approached the bodies of their fallen, holding a cluster of crushed berries as if they were sacred stones. A tradition born out of respect and remembrance, this ceremony was our way of bidding farewell, of leaving a piece of ourselves with the ones departing. The crushed berries, a vivid red against the pale skin of our deceased, were our promises, our prayers, and our expressions of love and gratitude.

One by one, we drew our marks, pressing our fingertips onto their still foreheads. Each mark, a unique insignia that represented our bond with them. I made my mark on Yenar, a simple circle intersected by three lines, a symbol that stood for strength, wisdom, and endurance. It felt surreal, an overwhelming sadness washing over me as I felt the cold skin beneath my touch.

With our goodbyes etched onto their foreheads, we moved towards the burning fire. Each of us held a wishbone, a symbol of our hopes and dreams, and as we spoke our words into the universe, we tossed them into the fire, letting the crackling flames consume our wishes.

The silence that followed was thick, a heavy quiet that wrapped itself around us like a shroud. The only sound was the crackling fire, each ember a fleeting remnant of our wishes. When the time came, we slowly approached the bodies, preparing ourselves for the final act of farewell. With Jara and Liora at my side, we lifted Yenar's body, his weight a solemn reminder of the friend he had been.

As we walked towards the pyre, a path lit by burning wood and our silent respect, Jara broke the silence. "Yenar was excited, did you know?" Her voice was a mere whisper, a breath of words carried on the night wind.

I turned to look at her, her brown eyes reflecting the fire's light, her face an unreadable mask. "Excited about what?" I asked, my voice unsteady in the crisp, cold air.

Jara took a deep breath before replying, her gaze on the path ahead. The words she would say next, I knew, were fragments of a memory she held dear, a moment of joy amidst the chaos. The responsibility of carrying those words felt immense, an honor bestowed upon me in the quiet of the night.

Jara's voice, soft against the silence of the night, carried a note of warmth. "You gave Yenar a spark that had died out a while ago, Tak," she said. Her words were surprising, her revelation an unexpected insight into a man I thought I knew.

"Seeing your successes made him feel like he could contribute more," she continued, her gaze still focused on the path ahead, her hands steady against the weight of her husband's body. "When you came to him with the idea for a mold, it made him feel... happy."

I glanced at Liora, finding my own surprise mirrored in her emerald eyes. I struggled to find words, my mind teeming with images of Yenar, of our shared work and the fire in his eyes that I had mistaken for mere enthusiasm. "I... I didn't realize," I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jara simply nodded, her lips pulling into a half-smile as if she had expected our surprise. "Yenar was old, and he wasn't as strong as he used to be. But you came to him with this idea, this... opportunity. It made him feel useful."

Again, I was at a loss for words. I had thought that our work together was merely a shared task, a necessary collaboration for the survival of our tribe. But hearing Jara's words, I realized that it had been so much more for Yenar. It had given him a sense of purpose, a spark of life in the winter of his years.

"I... I didn't know," I said again, the weight of my words sinking heavily into the silence of the night.

Jara sighed, her gaze softening as she looked at me. "There are many things men in our tribe don't share outside their homes," she said. "They keep their joys, their fears, their hopes, and dreams locked away, only revealing them in the safety of their families. Yenar... Yenar was no different."

"I know..." Liora's voice was a soft murmur against the cold night air, her emerald eyes clouded with memories of the past. Her admission seemed to hang between us, a ghostly presence that was both unexpected and yet so familiar.

Jara's gaze swept back to meet Liora's. Her eyes held a knowing look, as though understanding was silently passed between the two women. "You must have had it hard," she said, her voice barely a whisper against the soft crunch of snow beneath our feet.

But Liora only shook her head. "I'm thankful," she responded, her tone firm, even as her eyes glistened in the flickering firelight. "I'm thankful for everything Yenar and you have done for me. You were... you are my family."

Jara's mouth softened into a small smile, her eyes full of warmth as she looked at Liora. "I'm glad to hear that, Liora. I wish Yenar could have heard that too."

I remained silent, listening to the exchange between the two women. I had known that Yenar and Jara had taken Liora in after her parents' death, but I hadn't truly grasped the depth of their bond. To Liora, Yenar had been more than just a member of our tribe. He had been her father, her protector. And now, he was gone.

I thought of my own parents, and a pang of fear and sadness struck me. We were living in a world where death was often just around the corner. Every day could be our last. And yet, we were here. We were alive, standing together, carrying on the legacy of those who had left us. It was a thought that was both sobering and humbling.

"We're here," Jara's voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked up to see the pyre ahead of us. The final resting place of our fallen.

We carefully laid Yenar's body down, and as we stepped back, I took a deep breath. The air was filled with the scent of smoke and snow, of life and death, of endings and beginnings. I watched as Jara and Liora said their last goodbyes, their faces reflecting the firelight, their expressions raw with grief and yet full of strength.

Jara's words came as a surprise. "He finished what you asked for," she said, her gaze fixed on the pyre, the dancing flames casting shadows on her face. "He meant to show it to you, but there was never enough time."

I turned to look at the pyre, at Yenar's still form engulfed by the fire. A sense of regret washed over me. Why hadn't he told me? Why hadn't we had more time?

"He said you could get it from Liora," Jara added, snapping me out of my thoughts. "I'll leave you two now," she said, turning to join the others, her form gradually swallowed up by the darkness.

I watched her go, then turned back to Liora. She stood there, staring into the flames, her face illuminated by the flickering light. "Are you okay?" I asked, my voice soft against the sound of the crackling fire.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving the pyre. "I'm okay," she said, her voice steady. "I've been preparing for this. It doesn't make it easy, but it... it helps."

There was a silence then, the two of us lost in our own thoughts, the warmth of the fire a small comfort against the icy chill of the night.

Finally, Liora turned to look at me. "What about you, Tak?" she asked, her gaze searching mine. "You scared me, you know. When I saw you charging into the fight, your spear in hand... I was terrified."

I blinked, surprised. "You saw that?" I asked.

A small smile crossed her lips, her eyes lighting up with amusement. "Yes, I did," she said, her tone teasing. "I had no idea you were such a warrior, Tak."

I couldn't help but smile back, despite the heaviness in my heart. "Well, I had to protect our tribe," I said, trying to make light of the situation.

But Liora's smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful look. "You did well, Tak," she said quietly. "Yenar would be proud."

We fell silent again, watching as the fire slowly consumed the bodies of our fallen. A part of me wanted to reach out, to comfort Liora, but I held back. We were all grieving in our own ways, after all.

As the night deepened, and the fire burned on, I couldn't help but think about what Jara had said. Yenar had completed my request. I asked him if he could make a mold for bricks, but that felt like ages ago. A part of me felt saddened by this thought, this mold would be a constant reminder of Yenar and what he had left behind. Yet, it would be used to build new homes for us, so in a way Yenar's spirit would be watching over us all. A reminder of his legacy.

The fire behind us died down as Liora and I walked away from the funeral pyre, our footsteps crunching in the snow. The silence was thick between us, a tangible presence that hung heavy in the crisp night air. Then, Liora finally broke the silence.

"I don't want to lose anyone else, Tak," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I know," I responded, my voice firm despite the knot in my throat. "We won't."

Even as the words left my mouth, I felt the weight of that promise pressing down on me. It was a promise I was afraid I wouldn't be able to keep.

"How can you be so sure?" Liora asked, looking up at me. Her eyes glowed in the moonlight, reflecting her trust in me.

"I'll do everything I can to make sure of it," I answered. My mind whirred with plans and ideas. "With Yenar's mold, I'll be able to create new homes for us. And a wall… a wall that will protect us from harm."

My voice trailed off as my mind began to wander. Imagining the future, a future where we wouldn't be constantly under the threat of danger, was both a comfort and a concern. There would always be those who might wish us harm. How could we protect ourselves?

"And a forge," I continued, my voice louder this time. "A forge to craft weapons. Not just to fight, but to build and create."

Liora's eyes widened at my words. "All that... with stone?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No, not just stone. We're going to take our first step into a new dawn, Liora."

"And what does that mean?" she questioned, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"It means we won't ever have to be afraid anymore," I said, my eyes meeting hers. There was a determined glint in them, a spark of hope that hadn't been there before.

Liora looked at me for a moment before her face lit up in a smile. "I can't wait to see that, Tak."

Her words filled me with warmth. I smiled back, and for the first time since the battle, I felt a sense of hope. We had lost much, but we still had each other, and together, we would face whatever the future held for us.

In the distance, a beacon of orange light flickered against the dark curtain of the night sky, piercing through the thick veil of snowflakes that began to gently descend. The glow seemed to pulsate with a life of its own, casting dancing shadows around its source.

"It must be the Wulani finishing their ritual," I pointed out, squinting at the distant flames.

Liora turned her gaze towards the fiery spectacle, her eyes narrowing as she tried to discern more detail. The soft light from the far-off fire painted her face in hues of gold and orange, a stark contrast to the icy blue moonlight that shrouded us.

"What do you think, about their ritual I mean?" Liora asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"About what?" I turned to look at her, my eyebrows raised in confusion.

"About how they send their loved ones to the ancestors," she explained, gesturing vaguely towards the distant fire.

I was silent for a moment, contemplating her question. In truth, I didn't know. "I'm not sure," I admitted, "but I can't imagine it's all that different from ours."

Liora looked thoughtful at that, her eyes still fixed on the glowing flames in the distance. "We'll need to learn how to speak Wulian, won't we?" she said, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smile.

"Wulian?" I echoed, taken aback. I had to stifle a laugh at her sudden invention.

Liora let out a small chuckle, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Made it up," she confessed, a hint of pride in her voice.

I grinned at that, my previous apprehensions momentarily forgotten. "And what do you call our language then, Liora?" I asked, eager to keep the light-hearted conversation going.

She paused for a moment, her eyes drifting upwards as she pondered. "Ashian," she finally replied, a grin spreading across her face.

We both broke into soft laughter, the sound echoing off the quiet, snow-covered landscape. As the echoes faded, I found my thoughts drifting back to our own tribe. And more specifically, the younger members. Maybe I should teach them my original language, English. It could serve as a bridge between our past and our future, a tangible reminder of our journey.

The sounds of playful laughter and chatter grew louder as we neared our tribe. Our arrival was heralded by a flurry of activity as several children - both Ashaya and Wulani - broke away from their play to greet us. Snowflakes clung to their hair and eyelashes, their breath misting in the freezing air as they ran around in the fresh snow. Their eyes shone with unabashed delight, the joy of their innocent playtime momentarily erasing the lines that divided our two tribes.

Liora and I slowed our pace, standing at a distance to watch their merry game. As I watched them, a feeling of warmth spread through me, pushing away the icy tendrils of the winter chill.

"I want a family, a big family," Liora suddenly said, her voice barely audible over the laughter of the children.

I turned to look at her, my eyebrows raised in surprise. She was watching the children play, a soft smile playing on her lips and a far-off look in her eyes, as if she was envisioning her own future with a house full of boisterous children.

"I hope your wish comes true, Liora," I said, giving her a small smile. The vision of Liora surrounded by a gaggle of her own children, her fiery hair contrasting against their soft, dark curls, was an image I found surprisingly comforting.

"But," I added, my gaze sliding back to the children who were now engaged in a friendly snowball fight, "we're going to need a lot more food if that's going to happen."

Liora let out a soft chuckle, her laugh adding to the symphony of joyful sounds echoing around us.