Sean forgot about the white velvet box in his drawer. His friends invited him to play football after breakfast, and then they celebrated his birthday at a kopitiam. Later, they went to the movies. Almost night, Sean stopped by at an ice cream stand on his way back home. When he got back, it was already dark. The lamp at his front porch flickered when he was at the gate. His mother’s room light was on, he saw, and he went straight into the house, upstairs and showered.
He came out, dressed and refreshed. The day was no less than fun, that Sean did not want night to come or the day to end. Then out of a sudden, he saw his drawer lit momentarily. He did not believe his eyes; he rubbed them. Then it was gone. But it reminded him of the white velvet box from his mother, and father.
Sean called his mother, but there was no reply. He pulled the drawer open and retrieved the box. It was where he placed it; it did not move and it did not shine. Definitely, it was heavier than when he first lifted it. There was something inside, he knew, and his heart started to thump and his pulse raced. He took a deep breath, whispered at the exhale that he was prepared, and opened it.
Wrapped in layers of white, soft velvet was a key pendant.
He heard the front gate rustled but his attention was focused on the gift. He took the pendant from its case and to his surprise, a chain slowly formed. Again, he did not believe his eyes. It was illusion, or it was magic, and Sean immediately dropped it on the floor. He watched the chain slowly elongating, forming a loop that ran through the pendant until its ends met. He was stunned- what was his father thinking?
When it stopped, Sean inched closer, his eyes fixated on the, now, necklace like it was an insect, not sure if it was living or dead. He picked the necklace up from the floor and from its length Sean knew the necklace would fit nicely over him. But he dared not put it.
Was this what his mother, and father, meant for him, to be ready, when he chooses to open it?
Again, he stared at the pendant dangling at the middle of the necklace and courageously lifted it over his head and rested the pendant on his chest.
This was what he saw…
… since his father presented the dagger to him, Zesta felt his father was acting strangely. The question that lingered in his mind was: why now. What did his father mean when he said he was ready? What is going to happen? His father was silent the entire day and when Zesta went to chop more firewood outside the hut, he noticed his father staring at the fire on the stove below the cooking pot.
‘One of those days?’ his neighbour came and interrupted him.
‘Different. My father has been acting differently since morning. And he won’t speak to me.’
‘He will be alright,’ his neighbour said then turned to leave.
‘Mr Leestrong, do you know anything about daggers?’ His question made him freeze.
‘I am not at liberty to speak but if you must know, one who holds a dagger must never tell another, in this time, even to the closest being,’ he answered without turning.
‘What if you know one who holds the dagger?’
‘The Dark reads me. I am an Ordinary. The Dark hunts me and finds the person with the dagger.’
‘What will the Dark do?’
‘I have spoken much, Zesta, and you must attend to your father.’
‘Please, Mr Leestrong,’ Zesta plead.
‘I know you since young, Zesta, and you are destined for greatness. You will protect Magina in a way different from anyone of us or any other Light descendents.’
‘The Light descendents? I thought there is no more?’ Then there was a sound from his hut. His father dropped the cooking pot and stood in front of the stove. In his eyes, he saw the flames shaped into horses, galloping in circles.
‘Go to your father, Zesta,’ Leestrong said then turned to face him. ‘Remember what I told you. It forbids me to say but you are destined for greatness.’ A strong gust of wind blew across the village, shaking some huts and moved haystacks and barrels.
‘I have a dagger!’ Zesta uttered.
‘Then you must leave! Go to your father!’ the wind blew even stronger, distorting their speeches.
‘If the Dark is here, we will fight it!’ Zesta shouted.
‘Zesta!’ his father yelled.
‘No! This is not your fight!’
‘Then, make it mine!’ Zesta shouted back.
‘Zesta!’ his father yelled again.
‘Listen to me, Zesta, we have lived to protect you. You will help us in another way, and someone will help us! I may not live to see that day but for my children sake and the future of Magina, I thank you.’
‘Mr Leestrong,’ Zesta said and he felt his father’s hand at his shoulder.
‘Take your child with you, Vibea, and we will hold them!’ he shouted then left into his hut, took a blade, locked his hut and left in the direction like the other neighbours.
‘Father, tell me what is going on!’
‘Now is not a good time.’ They could hear explosions in the distance and Zesta felt the ground vibrating. ‘Come with me, now!’ Another explosion and now the wind carried an eerie whistle.
They rushed into the hut; his father locked the door and pushed the table to hold it. He repeatedly asked his son if the dagger was with him and every time he asked, Zesta nodded. His father kicked the back of his hut and ran through it. Zesta followed behind…
… Sean’s vision of the room returned. He watched what happened like it was a movie; the only difference was that he felt the characters, especially Zesta- he even remembered his name. He thought he was running; he wanted to know the ending to what he saw. Then he heard the pots and pans in the kitchen downstairs crinkling.
He got up and went out of his room. Someone was downstairs and it was definitely not his mother. He knew his mother would never play with her cooking utensils. It was someone else, a burglar, he thought.
Sean searched for a bat but what he got was a racquet. Good enough, he thought, and when he neared the stairs, his mother’s hand pulled him back.
‘Don’t go,’ his mother warned.
‘Mom, where were you?’
‘They are here.’
‘Who?’
‘People.’
‘What people?’
‘Dark people.’ Sean was stunned; he was speechless. He did not know what to respond. He remembered Zesta and like him too, he kept asking himself: what was going on.
‘Who are these Dark people?’
‘Where is the white velvet box?’
‘In my room.’
‘Take it with you,’ his mother said and they dashed into his room. His mother shut the door, locked it and looked to his son…
… Zesta and his father now heard growls and heavy footsteps. It was dark, the forest they ran into, trying to hide and disappear.
‘Did you take the dagger?’ his father asked again, feeling the pain growing in his leg as he tried to run.
‘Are you alright, father?’
‘Did you take the dagger?’ his father repeated.
‘Yes, father,’ Zesta replied.
‘Keep it tight,’ his father said then halted. ‘You need to go on your own.’
‘I’m not leaving you. We’ll fight this together.’
‘Listen to me this time. You need to go. I will stop him,’ his father said.
‘We stand together,’ Zesta insisted to stay.
‘You cannot stay with me,’ his father responded. Zesta didn’t know what to say. ‘We love you.’ He pushed Zesta away from him and dropped on his knees and looked where they came. ‘Go!’
Zesta turned towards the forest and followed his father’s instruction. But it was until he saw two large rocks that he hid behind quietly, and from the slit between the two rocks, he could see his father facing the dark clouds…
… ‘Through the window,’ his mother pointed. ‘Hurry!’
Sean climbed on his table and opened his room window.
‘Come, mom.’
‘You are on your own. Where is the box?’
‘I’m not leaving you!’ they could hear footsteps from the stairs, more than one man.
‘They want you, not me. There is nothing they will do to me.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I was told by your father that you will be a man of great story; that story is not here. You do well whenever you are, from the virtues of here.’ The footsteps now were heard coming towards his room. ‘Go! Go!’
Reluctantly, he ducked his head, then body, until he was fully outside the window on the rooftop. He turned to see his mother, now holding the door from the Dark people, and then on the ground where he would jump to…
… Moments afterwards, Zesta saw wolf-like creatures later he knew were shadowhounds, surrounding his father. The shadowhounds were gory with razor sharp teeth, black in colour, camouflaging in the darkness. He could not count exactly how many but he could make out at least five of them. Then, in front of his father stood a man and he spoke. Zesta tried to listen.
‘What do you want from me?’ his father asked.
‘What is wrong with you, the King Vibea?’ the man said. ‘Stand up and fight me. You are a Light, aren’t you?’ King? What was this man of darkness telling his father? A Light?
‘If I fight you and you win, what will it make you, Carc? A leader?’ his father replied.
‘It would make me king of this land. It would give me right to our blood, the throne. Do you know how long have I waited to find you?’
Guilt started running down Zesta’s spine. He knew it was his vengeance that called to the Dark’s attention. He reached for the dagger, scrutinizing at the carvings and the shiny spine.
‘I don’t know what happened to you, Carc, but the Dark is not the road you should choose,’ his father said.
The shadowhounds circled his father, bearing their teeth. ‘It’s because you have never been there. You won’t know what it holds. What power it possesses. Join me,’ he extended his hand. ‘Join me and we will-.’
‘Never,’ his father daringly pushed his hand aside. ‘There is no way for me to be with the Dark.’
‘Then you leave me no choice!’ he exclaimed and when the shadowhounds leaped, Zesta saw his father swung a light sword, out from nowhere, killing the shadowhounds.
Zesta kept the dagger, stood from the rocks and tried to climb down.
‘You’re injured, Vibea! You’re weak!’
‘The Dark is weak. I am not!’
His father exclaimed so loud that Zesta lost his footing and almost fell. A fallen rock unintentionally attracted Carc’s attention.
‘What was that?’ Carc asked.
‘Fight me!’
‘Shadowhounds!’ he called and the shadowhounds dashed and leaped their way towards the sound.
‘Run! Run!’ his father shouted and slain some of the shadowhounds.
‘You are pathetic!’ Carc poked his father’s leg and Zesta could hear his father cried aloud. ‘Who or what was that?’ he held his father up at his neck.
‘You will never be king, Carc. It was not yours, and never will be yours, to take.’…
… Sean landed hardly on the ground; he could feel his leg ached. But there was no time for him to rest and respite. He turned and saw through the windows from the living room, three men dressed entirely in black, and they saw him.
He climbed over the fence and sprinted across the neighbourhood. When he turned at one corner, he noticed another man covered in black outfit running towards him; he switched direction. There was no direction or aim for his escape. He kept on running, occasionally turning behind to see if anyone was following him, or if anyone was in front of him. The number of these men remained clueless to him. But there was a lot- like an organization that were hunting him down.
For what reason?
He continued to run, the white box in his pocket and the pendant bouncing against his chest, until he reached a bridge. There was no streetlight but in the darkness, he saw one man in front of him at the other end of the bridge, and another on his tail…
… Zesta ran as fast as he could but his father knew he could not outrun the shadowhounds that were chasing him.
‘The Dark never triumphs!’ his father said one last time before emitting a light so bright Carc had to release him from his grip to shield his eyes, and his father turned to the direction of his son. With a thrust of his hand, he could feel him pushing Zesta downhill, until he could see him falling off a cliff. The shadowhounds that chased Zesta stopped at the edge of the cliff, and then howled. Before Carc held Vibea up again, he prayed inside, ‘Shine, my son.’…
…Sean was in the middle of the bridge. He looked left, then right. They stopped running because they knew they had trapped him. Because they were tired.
But Sean was not easy on giving up.
He remembered what the day was, how he felt his life needed something more. This might just be it.
He climbed over the side of the bridge, looked at the murky water streaming below and turned to see the men now racing towards him.
Sean closed his eyes, put a foot forward, and changed his life.
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