Book of the Seven Celestials: The Third Prophecy

* * *

The man raised his eyebrows, eventually yielding under El's stubborn, unwavering gaze.

"Alright, alright. You're right. Just don't regret it later," he conceded, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

"Hummpphhh…" El harrumphed once more.

"Tch, you kid. You're starting to get comfortable with me, aren't you?" the man remarked. The corners of his lips curling into a teasing smile.

"I'm always comfortable with you, sir," El replied earnestly.

"Anyway, I'm leaving."

"Now???" El's voice plainly betrayed his reluctance to part ways. He no longer bothered to hide his disappointment. The man had already become an integral part of his life in just one day. A sadness lingered in his throat, knowing he would be away for days.

On the other hand, seeing El's eyes glistening under the candlelight, the man looked away, tightening his gaze to avoid being swayed by El's vague yet clear hopes for him to stay.

"Yes, don't go out when it's dark outside. And arrive home before evening, or I can't guarantee you'll be safe," he said, changing the topic. He paused, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "Hmmmmhh, now that I think about it, we don't have a clock or any wristwatch here, do we?"

"There's one in the plaza," El calmly stated, his expression returning to normal. A mask he often used to hide his despondency.

Recalling their earlier stroll through the night market, the vibrant stalls, and the enticing aromas still fresh in his mind, El resumed, "I'll just check on that big clock then."

The man reached into his pocket once again, retrieving a small bag. From within, he produced a golden coin, its surface gleaming in the dim light as he tried to press it into El's palm.

"Mister, I don't think I need this," El protested, instinctively putting his palms forward to refuse it. The many silver coins he already had were too much; adding more would leave him feeling incredibly indebted.

"Well, just use it to buy a small watch at the market. You'll find the shop near the intersection where we went to the market that evening. I know for sure you remember the way, right?" the man insisted, pulling El's hands forcefully and firmly placing the coin in his palm.

"Uh…"

"Just take it, boy. Your safety is in my hands…"

"… Alright… wait, what do you mean by 'my safety is in your hands'?" El raised the question, curiosity mixed with perplexity.

"Nothing. Anyway, I'm leaving. Don't go out of your door when it's already night. Make sure you're back home before five o'clock in the evening, understood???" The man's tone was solemn, his gaze locking onto El's eyes with an intensity that brooked no argument.

"Okay. Understood…" El replied briefly.

With a final glance, the man turned away and opened the door. Just as he did, a sudden breeze swept into the room, carrying with it an unfamiliar chill that sent a shiver down El's spine. It was a coldness unlike anything he had ever experienced, stirring memories of a strange sensation from a dream he had long forgotten.

The breeze danced through the room. Retreating swiftly as if it had come only to deliver a message. Or perhaps it had come and gone just to bring something with it. El watched quietly as the shadows within the room stilled, their restless movement ceasing with the wind's departure. His sight returned to normal.

Closing the door, the man engaged in an unseen action outside. A faint sound reached El's ears, resembling something brushing against the door's surface. Moments later, silence enveloped the room.

Feeling the weight of the moment settle around him, El crawled back to his bed. He closed his eyes, allowing the worries of the day to fade into the background. Sleep claimed his consciousness, wrapping him in its embrace until the morning light of the next day broke the horizon.

* * *

Dawn arrived in the gentle embrace of morning light. The sky above stretched wide and clear, painted in soft hues of blue. The air was filled with the cheerful chirping of birds, their songs weaving through the gentle rustle of leaves.

The scene shifted, zooming into a quaint alleyway where a small, one-story wooden house stood. Its weathered exterior was adorned with patches of peeling paint and tattered shingles. Inside, El sat in his room on a wooden chair, absorbed in his writing.

The soft creak of the chair accompanied his focused movements, while scattered books lay on the table. Pages fluttering open. Sunlight filtered through a nearby window, casting gentle shadows that danced across the space, illuminating the cozy yet slightly messy room.

Stopping his hand mid-motion, El leaned back in his chair and let out a weary sigh. He tucked his pen behind his ear and gazed up at the ceiling, where a jagged claw mark marred the plaster—a silent trespasser that had taken up residence there without so much as an apology or thought to pay its dues.

"Sigh, it's not like I'm paying the bill myself," he muttered under his breath, a hint of irony lacing his words.

"I wonder if I'm starting to go crazy, or if I just miss that uncle."

It had been a week since 'that man,' whom he now called uncle, had vanished into the night, leaving El to navigate the solitude of the house alone. Yet, fortune seemed to be smiling kindly upon him—if he were to say so—because his frugality had served him well this time. The bag of 'silver Riel' gifted by the man that night still brimmed with coins, more than half untouched, with only a few silvers spent over the past seven days. And the golden one, of course, was still left untouched.

In stark contrast to his days of hunger in the village, where every meal was a struggle between life and death, the simple act of eating in moderation felt like a luxury and a bliss in itself. Even the cheapest bread in the city was a 'gracious revelation' compared to the tree bark, grass, and sun-dried innards of trees that had once constituted his daily meals. The best fare in the village had been wheat stalks—often devoid of grain—which now seemed like a distant memory.

'It tastes weird too,' El thought, a wry smile tugging at his lips. He and the last other kid in the village would often have a dust-up over those stalks, as they could keep them fuller for a whole day compared to other foods. He never knew until he was here, living in the city, that those 'things' were not even considered food at all.

Though he admitted that he sometimes really wanted to eat until his stomach was about to burst, just like when he had eaten with that man. He reasoned that this was something only those who had been on the brink of death due to starvation would understand.

With a deliberate motion, he removed the pen from behind his ear and closed the notebook filled with his thoughts. He tidied the table and then set about organizing the entire room; each action was a small ritual to reclaim his space. It was a cool way to defend himself from leaving his bed strewn about. He readily acknowledged being a messy guy, as he had never bothered to tidy up anything upon waking—there was essentially nothing to tidy where he used to sleep.

"Alright, time to go!" he beamed in satisfaction after completing the 'rare tidying' that took half an hour. Taking his gray jacket from the top rail of the chair, he rummaged through the pocket and extracted the old wristwatch with the rusty steel chain. Peering at it, El nodded to himself.

'Just at the right time. I have a good feeling today that the uncle at the bakery will give me another discount,' he thought, grinning from expectation of another soft, warm bread he would eat today.

This time, though, he decided to venture outside, as he had resolved to visit the restaurant once more. For the past few days, his routine had revolved around reading, writing, and wandering the streets of Mirthwater City. He kept his explorations close to home, still mindful of the man's advice to return before the sun dipped below the horizon at five o'clock.

And today was the day when everything truly began for him.

* * *

Perhaps I never truly understood what it meant to have something I earnestly wanted to protect until it was too late. I gazed at the things around me, things I never fully comprehended, and wondered what choice my sister would have made if she were in my position. But it didn't matter. She was herself, not me, and I would never regret that.

-El's Second Note-