"I thought about it."
"The longer we walk, the less it makes sense."
"It has been a while since I last heard it."
"It could be nothing."
"It could be all in my head."
He kept his eyes forward.
"That is what I have been telling you."
We walked a bit more.
Then I noticed something ahead.
Far in the sky.
A small faint shape.
Around it, thin curved lines.
All colorless.
It stays still.
"What is that?" I asked, pointing.
"The swirl," he said.
"That means we have almost arrived."
"It has always been there."
"No one knows what it is. Or why it exists."
The village became clearer.
Broken buildings.
Collapsed walls.
Few people scattered here and there.
Upon entering, a shirtless man stood still in the middle of the entrance.
Standing still.
Just staring straight at us.
His crazed eyes did not shift.
"Do not make eye contact," he said quietly.
We kept walking.
After we passed him, I spoke.
"He is following us."
"I know."
"There will be a few like him here," he said.
"If you look scared, you give them a sign that you have something valuable to lose."
"Just keep looking forward."
Another thing I noticed was that people never interacted with each other.
They passed by cautiously.
Each one on their own.
However, there were a few exceptions.
Three masked people stood in an alley.
They raised their hands, as if performing some kind of ritual.
I could hear them sob.
"Who are they?" I asked.
"Occultists," he replied.
"Small groups form under certain beliefs.
The ones you are seeing are redemptionists."
"They believe we are in hell, and ignorance is part of the punishment."
"And the only way to escape is to beg for mercy every day until they are forgiven."
"I have not thought about that possibility."
"Do you think there is truth to it?"
"I think if that is true, then we will never know, and we will never get out."
"So there is no point."
"The rituals are just their way to keep living."
He stopped at a small window.
He knocked.
A voice came from inside.
"What do you have?"
He opened his sack and poured the junk inside.
"Food. And cloth," he said.
The man handed them over, beans wrapped in a small piece of cloth.
Before we could leave,
A child ran past us.
Fast.
Holding something.
A man shouted behind him,
"Thief!"
The child did not stop.
He ran straight ahead.
Two men stepped into his path.
They grabbed him.
One struck his face hard.
He fell.
The other kicked him while he was on the ground.
Once.
Then again.
Then again.
The child tried to crawl away.
One of them stepped on his back and forced him down.
The other took the bag he had stolen.
"Please..." the child said.
Another hit.
He cried out.
Another hit.
His voice broke.
Then he stopped speaking.
A man wearing padded armor and holding a sword approached.
He seemed to be a guard of some sort.
One of the attackers turned to him.
"Or what?" he said, pulling a dagger.
"We are the men of Nethraim. So keep walking."
The guard hesitated.
Then looked away.
Then walked.
So did the man who had been chasing the child.
They kicked the child again before leaving.
Then they were gone.
The child stayed on the ground.
Not moving.
A woman rushed in.
"My son..." she said, her voice breaking.
She knelt beside him.
Her hands trembled.
A quiet sob escaped her.
Then another.
She lifted him and held him close.
Still sobbing.
Then carried him away.
No one interfered.
No one reacted.
As if it was all normal.
He looked at me.
"Nethraim is one of the major bands of thieves," he said.
"They are far more powerful than the guards of the puppet king."
"It is the Riverans' way to keep Apiru without order."
"Puppet king?"
"Riverans?"
Before he could explain,
We heard something.
Heavy steps from the north.
People started to appear.
More than I expected.
They began gathering around the center, where the sand was stained dark red.
And from the north, six armored men entered.
One pushed a wheelbarrow filled with chains over burning coal.
They seemed larger than anyone else.
Wearing heavy segmented iron armor.
"Those are the Riverans," he said quietly.
"They are the foreigners who conquered Apiru."
"They installed a king and made this place their subordinate state."
"Coming from a land beyond the northern castle."
"We hear stories about their advanced civilization."
"But no one knows what it is like."
"No one is allowed to go there."
"Anyone who tries to cross the northern bridge gets killed."
The guards of Apiru approached them.
Lowered their heads and spoke briefly.
Then someone was brought forward.
A tied man.
Struggling with his eyes covered.
"He must have done something horrible," I wondered.
"They do not take people for crimes," he replied.
"The Riverans perform sacrifices from time to time."
"To them, the people of Apiru are no more than descendants of slaves."
"And their blood is cheaper than animals."
"So they use them."
"They claim they choose criminals."
"But no one believes that."
"The choice is random."
"So people stay afraid."
"Waiting for their turn."
The man heard the chains.
He started crying.
"Please no..."
"Please..."
"I did not do anything..."
"Someone help me!"
Two of the knights grabbed him.
Held him in place.
The third took a hook from the burning coals.
The metal glowed.
He attached it to a chain.
Then,
Drove it upward under the man's chin.
Through flesh, out through his mouth.
The scream tore through the village.
They began to lift him.
Slowly.
The chain tightened.
Pulling his body upward.
His jaw stretched.
Blood ran down his neck.
Dripping onto the sand.
He tried to grab at the chain.
His hands burned.
His struggling screams never stopped.
I looked at the crowd.
No shock.
Only dread.
The sound of his voice changed.
Slowly turning into broken gasps.
To a wet whistle.
One of the knights stepped forward.
Drew a circle in the sand beneath the hanged man.
Then raised his sword.
And finished the ritual with a fast, deep cut across the man's midsection.
His midsection ripped open.
His guts spilled onto the ground.
The chain still held him.
What remained of him hung.
"May the sacrifice be accepted."
The knights left.
Then it was over.
Just like that.
The people dispersed.
Everything returned to how it was.
He looked disturbed.
"Come on. Let us leave."
I did not move.
I stood there.
Processing what I had just seen.
Then,
A decision was made.
"Come with me to the ancient temple," I said.
He sighed.
"Is this your final decision?"
"The temple lies atop one of the highest mountains in the south."
"And the south is empty."
"No one goes there."
"We may encounter thieves on the way."
"Before we entered the village, I thought it had been too long since I heard the voice."
"I was almost certain it was nothing."
"...And I still am."
"But after what I have seen..."
"All the misery."
"The fear."
"The despair."
"It made me want an answer."
"There has to be something beyond this suffering."
"Then it is settled," he said.
"May this journey be of use."
And so, my path turns south.