The Cursed Seed

Agari was acknowledged by many contradictory adjectives, kind, heropic, humble, strong, and reliable, though he was also merciless, the proudest of the strongest.

 He knew his worth, which blinded him to bending himself upon others, and that became his end. 

 He left behind an offspring who later was named Cirrus by his mother, a nameless being who many knew was not worthy of Agari and whom many thought was not deserving of naming the descendant of such a character.

 Cirrus had straight black hair, sharp eyes, thin lips, a tall nose, a small build, long fingers, a mole below his right eye. The spitting image of Agari. 

Cirrus was never weak. He was a natural at leading, but he lacked direction or ambition. He cared about having a firm grip on the ground. He was consistently one of the best but never stood out as much as was expected by those who knew the great Agari. 

He carried the self-induced task of becoming friends with others who shared his age, making sure they called his name, building up a generation that would recognize him for something other than his lineage. 

He wished he could be part of the crowd, but only sometimes he wished he was strong enough to finish the whole hierarchy that would depravedly watch over him. Erasing what he regretted and starting in a blank sheet of silk. The reason behind that stood further from what people would whisper. It was a secret he wished he could keep beneath him, underground.

The day Morant Willerich, a boy of his age at a very similar position as him, began to suffer the side effects of exploiting an ability at such an early stage of his growth, was the day he understood what was that overwhelming feeling that would almost breathe on his neck, it was fear. 

Daenneri Willerich carried her son in her arms as she faintly sang to him, Cirrus only watched from a distance.

Cirrus had watched Morant from a distance for a long time. He watched as he walked straight, unbothered through the crowds, smiled only at his teachers, and firmly ignored the rest. He wondered if he could do the same, if he could play pretend and act mighty in front of the people that would reluctantly call him "Agari's son". He respected him as much as he feared him, he wanted to be him, not because he thought of himself as weaker, or because he believed he was inferior to him but because he wished he could be proud or at least pretend to be proud. 

He believed he could reach him, but then he watched as he writhed in pain, his face red as he screamed inwards, silently clenching his fists. He couldn't even bear to accept he was not the person he pretended he was.

Daenneri sang louder, masking the sound of his teeth clenching and his feet fiercely hitting the ground. Cirrus walked away down the hallway to where all the other people sat, some judging her ways, others, mainly men, standing near the window murmuring. One of them looked at Cirrus and turned back to the others. His expression, or rather his complexion, maybe it was the fact that they didn't know his name and that all he had was Agari's sharp eyes, but he inspired shame.

Miklos Willerich, Morants father, had fought by Agari's side. He wasn't known for being fierce. He had a loud laugh, a long red beard, a husky voice, thick eyebrows, and a robust build. He was believed to be dead.

After about a month of absences, Morant returned to school, no more mighty behavior, only a 13 year old boy. Morant was the pillar that held up a forest with not one tree, and Cirrus was standing in it in disbelief.

Soon after, Morant became Cirrus' closest friend, his strongest ally.

Mo walked up the hills with a blue backpack, losing his breathing and wiping the sweat down his neck, rushing. Cirrus waited, lying in the grass laughing. Morant crawled toward him, on his knees coughing dirt. Cirrus shook Morants' head and stood against the sun with a wide smile.

"If they had come.." Said Cirrus almost out of breath, looking back at Morant, who was now laying on his back.

"Stand up! Now, do it, hurry"…said Cirrus.

Morant moaned and rolled over.

"I don't think i can keep doing this…"said mo on his knees.

"Why not?" Said Cirrus nonchalant.

"Because…. I'm just not built like you, I'm not physical like that.." Mo said with a pained expression

"Ugh stop complaining, just look that way, see how far we are? There's no way this is not worthed. Look! I wish they were here to watch this."

"It's just a small village.." said Mo.

"Right.. But look over there, you see that? Can you see what's behind the grove?" Said Cirrus with a smile.

"I get what you mean, but.."

"We are officially on the other side, not any side, The Side." Interrupted Cirrus.

Cirrus began walking downhill. Behind him was Mo.

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Six days before, Mo crushed the land into itself while Stolas and Damien took the lead and with them, the boys and Harriet were able to get out of the monster's vision range. The monster seemed surprised. Its size made it intimidating though it really wasn't the kind to prey on children or anything that small.

The water surrounding it turned black. The ink spread making it barely possible to see the submerged children. Mo pulled them out with his feet clenching on the ground and the very little strength he had left. They wiped the ink off their faces while the tunnel they had crawled in earlier began to grow roots blocking the entry.

They laughed while laying on the ground, covered in salt and dirt. Damien started hitting stolas in the back while laughing almost out of breath.

Stolas was also having fun. Although his eyes were a mystery, you could almost see his eyes shutting above his square shaped smile and crooked teeth.

The sun began to place itself behind the hills, their shadows reaching the green of the giant trees.

Mo grabbed his bag, which was hanging on a small branch, and started walking. With trembling knees that could barely hold his weight. Continuously trying to bend all the way.

Mo continued to walk for a little while but then just fell on his knees on dry grass and dirt.

Frustrated and lonesome, but that was his fault. He knew better than to go along those adventures. He laid there until the sun was completely gone.

After a good rest, he continued that hellish journey. He finally arrived home and kept thinking, if he had stayed, where would he be. He reached for the door when he suddenly heard his grandfather laugh behind a bush in a chair. Humming in the dark while leaning back.

"What's up with you?" Mo said jokingly as he walked towards him.

" Nothing really, you?" He raised an eyebrow as he leaned towards me.

"Just got home." Said Mo under his breath.

"That's so?... " said as he leaned backward.

"Mom?" Asked Mo

"Inside, she's bringing more oranges -" He said with a little sigh.

"Should I turn the lamps on?" Mo said as he lifted his face

" Mmm nah…it's better this way. You can see the candle lights in the cemetery when it is this dark. Want to join?" He said and then pointed at the ground where a piece of fabric covered the grass presumably where Daenneri was sitting.

Mo nodded and sat beside him. He handed Mo a peeled orange while looking at the stars.

Daenneri, Mo's mother, sat on the fabric with her unbraided hair, barefoot, and a thin pajama dress. She seemed content with life. Living alone with her son and her dead husband's father.

She turned her face to Morant.

"How was your day? Had fun?" She said while smiling

" I think…yeah I had fun!" Mo said, then looked down, started chewing on the orange wedges.

"Oof, that was convincing!" Leonard said as he chuckled.

"Well. I found out that you have a brother." Daenneri said and then grabbed a mouthful of almonds.

Leonard choked and directed his eyes towards Mo.

Mo turned to her, aiming to understand what that meant for her in her expression but with the darkness and her hair on the way, it was difficult. He wondered if his reaction was a worry of hers.

"How old is he?" Mo said with little air.

"12." She said, still hiding her face.

Mo turned to Leonard. To his surprise, he was looking for his eyes, too. That reassured him.

"Where is he?" Mo asked.

"Inside, asleep"

"The mother passed away. She was murdered by barbarians." Leonard said while looking at Mo dead in the eyes.

"He'll need a place to stay for a while. It sucks that he went through that." Mo said as he stood up and walked inside.

The muttering continued, but she needed comforting and a little space.

Mo's father was known to be brave, strong, reliable, and a heartbreaker. Mo could hardly speak of him as he did not experience him beyond short memories during his childhood. Far from him.

He laid on bed and got reminded of the discomfort, the warmth, and slight sharp pain in his spine. That is what arrogance and insecurity have as a consequence.

The next morning He could barely lift a finger and accepted that it would be a hard day.