"Threads on the Wind"
Sai rose early the next morning, eager to clear his head before encountering any of his siblings. He crept through the house and slipped out the front door. There, observing the house with his arms folded, was Dad.
Kai’s short auburn hair rustled in the afternoon breeze. Sai had fashioned his own hair after Kai’s, pleading with Mom to give him the same cut as father’s. His physique was something Sai hadn’t been able to match—taut, lean muscle spread evenly over his arms, shoulders, and chest.
A white-hilted sword was sheathed at his hip. Whenever he traveled, walked the town, or dealt with the authorities, Kai always had it sheathed by his side. So important was the sword that it had a title: the Altreoch.
Whenever Kai spoke of the Altreoch, it was with reverence; the sword had passed from Varion to Varion, each strengthening and making the blade anew. Rather than the old, blade of cold steel others in Rakuken saw, Kai referred to it as a thing that breathed.
The Altreoch had a smooth white handle with a guard that curved upward around the end of the hilt on either side, like horns. Its white blade was made of something alien; it was neither cold like metal nor rough like bone. A crest of claws crossed over a rough-cut green gem in the hilt.
Sai had never held it. Kai protected it from everyone, and it was clear that the Altreoch was not a toy or even a normal sword. But someday, he had been promised, it might be passed to him. Sai joined his father in watching the house. Kai was silent; only the breeze passed between them, blowing quietly. Sai breathed some of it in as it passed.
His father could see the wind as well. There was a faint green glow from the blood vessels surrounding his eyes. It made them seem radiant white by contrast. But Sai knew better. He had watched his father for years; he had seen him in those short moments where it all came crashing down, and all that was left in his eyes was a weariness that cut to the bone. He had always pushed through regardless.
Even surrounded by the brilliant light of a Vein, Sai could see it now. He hadn’t understood when he was young. But now, at nineteen cycles, he began to grasp that look in his father’s eyes. It terrified him.
Kai broke the silence with four words: “I’m leaving Rakuken again.”
They were sledgehammers upon a crumbling foundation. Sai’s gaze fell from the peak of the roof to the ground, and his mind crept slowly toward the emptiness—emptiness that was both comfortable and deadly. Sai spoke from that cold, echoing place in his mind.
“I thought it was done. I thought…you said you would stay for good.” His voice was quieter than he wanted it to be. Still like a child.
Kai met his son’s eyes in a look as serious as the bare steel at his hip. “I was wrong. I thought that maybe…but no. We are needed as long as we live. There are hard things that need doing. And Sai, if I don’t do them, no one will. If I settle for peace here, let the world pass us by, and let those outside sway the course of history as they will, what will become of us? People here—especially here—they like what’s comfortable.” The weariness on Kai’s face threatened to return, but he exhaled and it was gone. “We cannot be content with just comfortable. We will talk on such things. Come. Let's walk.”
Sai hesitated and wished he hadn’t heard those words. But all good things must end; they always had, and always would. He let go his clenched fists and followed.
Kai had rounded the house. When Sai turned the corner, his father held a long box made of some dark wood which was reinforced with steel bolts and braces. It was over half as long as Sai was tall. A leather strap was bolted to the short faces of the box so it could be slung over a shoulder and carried.
Kai held the box out to Sai. “This is a gift, but don’t open it. I’ll explain.”
Sai took it gingerly in his hands and was surprised by the weight of it. Wood was heavy, of course, but this was even heavier. He hefted it once, twice, then slipped it over his shoulder. Kai watched his hands, and when Sai was done, he lingered on the box for a moment before shifting to his gaze to his son.
“We’ll walk on the fresh earth of the mountain, not this stone. I need fresher air than this before I go. And I don’t want Reza Tharon getting the wiser about my departure.” The red stubble on his father’s face twitched up as a small smile crinkled on his lips.
Sai wanted to smile, he really did. But a heavy rock had formed in his gut ever since he had woken up. The finality of this exchange only made the rock deeper, heavier. It weighed on his face and shoulders. He settled for a hopeful grimace.
The only column in Rakuken that connected to the mountain was two down and four across from their own. It was the closest to the ground and bled into the mountainside to let hunters off of Rakuken’s stone to gather game. The exit was guarded, and those who ventured too far or too long were brought back inside with haste.
Kai had a quick word with the sentry posted at the gate and the man did not jot their names down on the sheet as they passed by.
“I don’t have my bow…when do they expect us back?” asked Sai.
Kai’s eyes hardened, brows furrowing as he stared into the forest. “There are some things you cannot accomplish in comfort. Vel will let us wander for an hour or two in without telling Tharon. Should the reza find us, I will take the blame. He holds less power than he knows.” Kai nodded toward the denser forest. “Let’s go.”
Sai turned from the sentry post and followed Kai’s lead. They walked in quiet, weaving among the sun-pocked trees and stepping over roots. Tall alester trees populated the majority of the forest; evergreens native to the Windy Mountain whose leaves produced a quiet whistling sound in the wind. They had crimson, sturdy bark which made them perfect for furniture if only you could fell one. These trees had stood for hundreds of years, far longer than the city of Rakuken had been built.
Further into the forest, Kai spoke. “I’ve never wanted to leave any of this.” Sai was quiet; he wanted this moment to last forever. After a moment’s breath, his father continued. “Every time…I spend every heartbeat wishing I was home, breathing in the fresh mountain air, next to your mother and surrounded by all of you. But out there beyond the mountain…” Kai’s eyes lingered east and in the set of his mouth and brows Sai saw the cracks in the foundation again. “They need a voice. A direction.” His father’s hand slipped to the hilt of the Altreoch and gripped it tight.
“Direction is forced upon them, Sai. But all people must choose. Controlling one another only leads down a path of death and hate.” Kai’s eyes flitted to Sai. “There are those who divide the strong and the weak, and say that one group deserves a thing that the other does not.”
Sai knew this. He felt this, in his brother’s eyes. In how people looked at Veins, and how they looked at him. He was among the weak. But his father looked into Sai’s eyes with a seriousness that drew his attention back. “Do not be the divider, Sai. Humankind thrives only in unity.”
Sai nodded without responding.
“I will not live forever. Then the weight of the world will fall to you. Your road will someday lead away from Rakuken and the Windy Mountain. Away from all of this. And when that time comes, you will have this at your side,” said his father, as he rocked the Altreoch in his belt. “It holds within it the power of division, as many would seek to use it, but I have striven the whole of my life to use it to bring the world together—to give us hope. In your hands, I know you will choose the same.”
Now Sai was the one to look to the east. “I would follow you?” Such a mix of hope and dread came with those words. Leave comfort; leave prison. He glanced with trepidation at the sword, then at his father’s face.
“Right now, you need to protect your siblings. And grow—grow in the shade.” Kai’s mouth broke into a smile; this one genuine. “You may have far to go, but don’t see that as something to dread. This is when you can choose who you will be and forge a path for yourself that you can be proud of. The future is never as far away as we think.”
Sai’s eyes had found the ground again. No doubt his father had that encouraging look in his eyes, the one he had lifted Sai from the mire with so many times before. Did he deserve to be picked up again? “Dad…”
His father did not interrupt him. Sai took a breath, then blew it out.
“I don’t have a Vein. I…know I don’t. I tried everything I could; I even took Lev’s advice and sat amongst the wisps on that hill far away from it all.” Sai closed his eyes and imagined all the sorts of looks his father could have on his face: Sorrow? Regret? Guilt, perhaps? For believing where there was no hope for him? Sai laughed bitterly. “I’ve tried imagining a clear blue sky, I’ve focused on the feeling of the wind on my skin, I’ve watched the green wisps for hours like a crazy person, begging them to listen to me. But…I’m a sham.”
“I told you that there are some things we cannot accomplish in comfort, did I not? It is sometimes the familiar that holds us back.”
Sai dared to open his eyes and saw quiet concentration on his father’s face. That put a fire in his stomach made him remember the hope he found last night. The hope that was completely, utterly squashed. “I thought that the storm might do it. Dad…I was such a fool, putting Mirai and Theo in danger. I thought that would snap me into it. I wanted to protect them, but I know a part of me was hoping that would be the moment. And…it’s my fault that lightning rod broke! Lev told me it was faulty, and I didn’t listen. I failed. Again.”
Kai watched him while he talked. Once Sai had exhausted himself, Kai put a hand on Sai’s shoulder and started them down a different path in the forest. “It’s good to be honest and to accept the world as it is. That’s often the first step toward change. There may soon be responsibilities that require your full attention beyond that of a Vein.”
Sai huffed. “Is it good to be honest about who I really am: A coward?”
Kai hesitated. “You are not a coward, Sai.” His father’s voice was cold and even.
A tingle danced up Sai’s neck. Did the breeze just pick up?
“If you tell yourself that you are a coward, you will inevitably become one. If you give in to that voice and curl up on yourself, there will be no second chances. You won’t give yourself any. And no matter who tries to pick you back up, you won’t stand.”
Sai grit his teeth and felt tears threaten the corners of his eyes. What do I call myself, then. A failure?
Then his father’s arms were around him. Sai didn’t even have time to process it; the tears came, then a sob, and he wrapped his arms around his dad and buried his face in his coat.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be.” Came his father’s voice in a low rumble. “Be convinced that you can change.”
Sai breathed in the scent of tanned leather and oiled steel that his father always had about him. He found a smile somewhere in his shame and pulled away. “Thank you.”
Kai’s face was warm. “Thank you, for trying.” His eyes shifted from Sai’s face to the box over his shoulder, and he nodded at it. “That box is something of a test; do not open it until you know what is inside. Keep it out of sight from the reza as well.”
Sai blinked, looked at the box, and dared to ask the obvious. “How am I supposed to know what’s inside without opening it?”
His father grinned and continued down the forest path. “Therein lies the test. When you’re ready, you will know the answer.”
The box was made of some dark wood, but beyond its length did not indicate any specific content. Eagerness and fear danced in his chest as he stared at it. “You may be overestimating my guessing skills…”
“It isn’t a guessing game; you must know. If you don’t figure it out, the box must be sealed and never opened. Understood?”
“I…understand. But…what is this for? And why?” asked Sai.
“Because times are changing. And they need you, Sai. Not someone like me, not any longer. You will understand eventually. Until then, know this: once you open that box, it cannot be closed again.”
Sai found that his hands gripped the leather strap all the tighter. “I don’t know what you mean. I…we need you, Dad. We’ll always need you.”
Kai’s gaze grew distant as he peered out into the sun-dappled forest. “You are growing into a fine young man, Sai. You will not need me your whole life. There will come a time for you to face the world beyond and do whatever you can. Cultivate, in this time, a kind heart. One that the world needs. A soul that, no matter how dark the horizon gets, can look out upon the world and stay small.”
“Why would I want to be small?”
The corners of Kai’s mouth creased and thin wrinkles crackled out from his eyes. “There are plenty of people out there that say that power is in the loud things: muscle, the mind, or reputation and great speeches. It is not.” Kai planted a finger over Sai’s chest right over his heart. “It is here, in the small things. In standing when others fall away. In humility. Do not lose who you are. And the Great Below forbid, do not lose your way.”
Sai watched his father’s finger withdraw. A hole lingered where it had been and Sai grabbed at his shirt. “I…I don’t want to leave here, Dad. I want to be better, but… Where are you going? Can’t you leave the world out there to people like the Final Hero? People who don’t have us at home, needing you to stay?”
Kai brought Sai into his arms again and pulled him in tight. “Change is painful, but it is good. Do not run from it.”
Sai didn’t cry this time. He exhaled, hugged his father, and knew that for right now, things could be bright. The emptiness could threaten in the corners of his mind, but here everything was right and good. Sai looked up, and his father raised his eyebrows. “Now, let me walk by myself. It will be some time before I see our forest again.”
“Okay.”
Kai turned and walked down an untrodden path between the turning trees. As Sai watched him go, he saw that that confidence had faded from his face.
He hurried back to the Rakuken step without another word.
Vel let him pass without much of a look, and Sai crossed the columns between the mountain and his own quickly. He considered returning home and putting the box in his room, but that would mean running into Theo or Mirai.
He wasn’t ready for that. So instead, Sai found Lev with the box still slung over his shoulder, drawing all the oddest looks from everyone else on their plateau. Lev didn’t give it much attention beyond a single raised eyebrow.
They spoke about a replacement lightning rod, about the fallen tree, and about Sai’s failings to awaken his Vein. Lev and Sai visited one of the closer industrial columns that made lighting rods to exchange the broken one for another. Then two of them replaced it on the obelisk and cleared away the debris of the tree. Sai found the snapped bowstring beneath it all. He rolled it between his fingers and slipped it into his pocket.
When he and Lev parted, it was well into the afternoon. Sai found himself back at the house. His mother sat on their front porch carving the legs of a tall stool.
She smiled up at him, sweat beaded on her forehead. “Hello, Sai,” she said. Her eyes landed on the box over his shoulder then returned to her project without acknowledging it. “How was your walk with Dad?”
“Um…he gave me this box,” Sai’s voice dropped to a whisper when he remembered, “and said he’s going to leave.”
His mom shaved a strip of wood off the leg, wiped her brow, and set the leg down before her. “I know, Sai. We’ve talked about it.” Her face was set in that way—like Dad’s, but more resilient. A look of long-suffering, of distant loving, of sad wishes and repeated farewells.
Sai sat beside his mother, peeled the lid off a can of wood stain, and took the freshly carved wood in his hands. It was sun-warmed and rough, and felt good against his skin. “When does he leave?”
“Soon.” Selene looked into Sai’s eyes, but he couldn’t keep her gaze. He put himself into the work, brushing the leg slowly and evenly with stain. If he just kept focusing on what he could do, then he would keep moving. Then that lingering emptiness wouldn’t suck everything good out of his life. If only he didn’t give in.
After finishing all four legs and the seat, Selene spoke. “Go, talk to your sister. She needs to hear from you.”
Sai met her eyes, then nodded and stood. Before he entered the house, his mother looked at him with her eyebrows raised. “Theo, too.”
Sai frowned and wandered inside. The front room was empty where he, Theo, and Mirai had collapsed last night. The only apparent sound in the house was the muffled, repeated thwack of wood on leather from the large room on Sai’s left.
Sai turned away from the room when he recognized his brother’s grunts. If he tried to talk to him now, he’d get a frustrated, amped up Theo. Even worse than last night, now that his Naming ceremony was tomorrow.
That gave Sai pause as he made for his bedroom. He remembered distinctly the burden of his ceremony weighing heavy on his shoulders a year ago. Sai remembered the disappointment, too, but that wasn’t what made him stop. Maybe this would be the perfect opportunity for him to talk to Theo.
He took a single step before deciding otherwise. Afterwards, he told himself.
Instead, Sai went to his bedroom and stored the box there, then scouted out their back patio. A yard spread out before the wooden steps, first with a stone circle with a bench next to a tall alester pine, and beyond that were the graves.
Mirai sat by herself on the bench weaving together long strands of flax into a new bowstring. Her short copper hair fluttered in the wind as she focused on her project. But she had trained herself for hunting—large shoulder muscles, lithe arms, a sturdy frame—and as such was having difficulty keeping the fine strands together. Sai found a spot next to her and took out the broken bowstring to measure with. Mirai’s eyes lingered on it for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” Sai said. “I put you in danger and broke your bow. Let me help.”
Mirai inhaled through her nose then out through her mouth. Theo was stubborn; he would never accept help nowadays. But Mirai held out the half-finished string to Sai and let his nimble whittlers hands work on it. After Sai made some headway, she spoke.
“Thank you. For trying to save it.” Was all she said. She picked up her bow and started to peel off the leather wrapping that made the handle that had gotten soaked in the storm.
By the time they finished, the sun touched the edge of the leaf-dappled horizon. Sai retired to his room and chanced not to run into Theo. There he found the box again, sitting alone on his bed. Sai’s mind started working.
It was unassuming with dark wood sides, hammered black iron corners, and the strap. Why does it have a strap? He felt along the seams of the box for any give, but it was made sturdy. There was an engraved symbol toward the bottom of the box, but Sai couldn’t tell what it was because of how dark the wood was.
That made Sai paused. What sort of wood was this? It had no scratches or dents that he could feel, and it didn’t seem to be stained, but rather the dark luster of the wood was its natural color.
Sai took a whittling knife from his pocket and blew out a hesitant breath. If he was wrong about this, he could dearly scar the box. But he wasn’t opening it. Sai pressed the tip of the knife against the box and applied a little pressure.
Nothing. Sai pressed a little harder, and harder, but when he pulled the knife away there wasn’t even a scratch on the wood’s surface. Sai had carved many varieties of wood; very few were this tough. The more he stared at it, the more the wood reminded him of the lightning rods and their roots which siphoned magic in the air.
He ran a hand over his mouth. What could be so precious that a box made of axial wood was used to house it? It must have cost a fortune to have this made. Sai sat on his bed next to the box, laid his hand on it, and thought.
His father put him up to it, so there must be a way to determine the contents from the outside. If Sai could solve the mystery before his father left, maybe then he would be ready. For what, Sai wasn’t sure. But…ready.
Sai stuffed a pillow behind him, rested his back against the wall beside his bed, and stared down at the box. It was a matter of minutes before he started to drift off to sleep. Hazy, treading the line between waking and dreaming, something changed.
His wandering mind latched onto the box, which was connected to him through his fingertips. With nothing left to try, Sai’s mind reached for the box like it had tried reaching for the wind so many times.
At first, nothing changed. Then Sai exhaled and red light spilled from his chest. Sai let out a squawk and bolted upright, blinking against the harsh light. Even when he closed his eyes, the light remained. He opened them and tried to figure out what it was.
It wasn’t just a beam of light. It bent and swayed, like a thread in water. A thick, central thread came from his chest, and many smaller threads broke off from it. Some of the threads pointed at his bed, others touched various parts of the box, and several collectively pointed toward the door to his room.
Sai lifted the hand that was not on the box, and as he moved, a faint blue echo peeled off it. The light trailed after his hand like it was draped in lazy twilight. Mesmerized, he swiped his hand back and forth.
It was in this discovery that he noticed a thin, almost invisible thread amongst all the red ones. It was faintly white and blue, and while the red ones faded into nothing about a foot out from him, this tiny thread was visible until it poked through his closed door.
The door opened. Sai gasped and pulled his hand from the box. The vision of threads and echoes disappeared. His father stood in the doorway, hand against the frame, breathing hard. He looked into Sai’s eyes then down at the box in his lap. Kai’s eyebrows were drawn up and his mouth opened in concern.
“Dear God…you were right,” he whispered. “I put it off for too long.”
Sai blinked at him through bleary eyes, either half-awake or half-dreaming.
“Sleep, Sai,” Kai said quietly from the door. “Learn what you can. Be smart, for the Architect’s sake. Your fate crouches at the door; mine approaches with the dawn. Be the man I know you can be. Finish what I never could. I’m proud of you. I love you.”
A faint green light filled the room and Sai’s eyelids grew heavy. His mind fought against the pressure, clawing at a strand of consciousness to keep him awake, but it gained no purchase. Kai approached his bedside and laid a hand on the box. A tear glistened on his cheek. His whisper came to Sai in his fading moments.
“Goodbye.”
There’s the second chapter of The Final Hero. Next week will either be the introduction chapter for a different perspective character or a short story. Stay tuned! I would certainly appreciate thoughts on the characters, setting, magic, or anything else! Cheers, and thanks for reading!
If you want to read Chapter 3 (which is a first-person story told by Sai), you can find it here!