A New Beginning

From the Chronicles of Panta Noe, Year 349 after the Awakening of the Werrens:

The arrival of the Drifters brought an unexpected rift among the oases. To some, they were explorers—brave pioneers who risked their lives with their innate courage in search of new, fertile lands. To others, their independence posed a serious threat, disrupting the hard-won security. Their discoveries were seen merely as a pretext for their own enrichment. Today, no one knows what ultimately led to their disappearance, but their legacy remains visible throughout the inhabited lands.

Reng, Karhen Rouz Oasis

During the journey, Reng stumbled in silence while the stranger behind him urged him forward with impatient gestures. They arrived at the oasis at dusk.

Colorful lanterns already glowed in the twilight, and loud music filled the streets, accompanied by laughter and cheerful shouting. Reng had always loved festivals. The dance, the lanterns’ glow, and the enticing aromas wafting from the kitchens had always reminded him that even in the oasis, there were moments when people allowed themselves to forget the burdens of daily life. But this year... this year was different. The music sounded off-key, the laughter seemed too loud. The joyful atmosphere felt like a poorly worn mask, hiding the growing tension.

Reng stopped and turned around. “So, we’re here. What now?”

He hoped the stranger would send him home so he could rest, but the man had other plans.

“Now we find Noel’s daughter.”

“Ela?”

“Does Noel have any other daughters?”

Reng shook his head.

“Then, Ela.”

“Why?” Reng didn’t like the idea of Ela being dragged into his problems. “What do you want from her?”

“Me? Nothing,” the man’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “You’re the one who promised to keep her out of trouble today, and instead, you’ve been chasing ghosts on the other side of the valley.”

Reng swallowed. How could the stranger know what he had promised Ked? It had been a deal made in strict confidence.

But then he recalled Ked’s look when he recognized him in that graveyard. Reng had been the first to break their agreement, so Ked did exactly what he had threatened.

"This is going to be a real mess," flashed through his mind, and he still couldn’t comprehend that Ked hadn’t even hesitated, despite the fact that this time, it involved his own sister.

“You still have time to fix your mistake,” the bald bruiser leaned in conspiratorially. “And maybe you’ll still get to enjoy the night with her... Do we understand each other?”

Reng gave a barely perceptible nod and then slowly set off toward the very heart of the oasis. If he was going to find her anywhere, it would be there—amid the dancing, exhilarated, and most likely already drunk, unaware that she had drawn the unwanted attention of those who knew their secret.

The main square was overflowing with people, the crowd spilling into the side streets. Reng moved through them, scanning the faces for Ela. With every step, he became more aware of just how many of Gramps' men he spotted in the throng. They were laughing and enjoying themselves, but under their coats, they clutched weapons.

“Reng!”

A slender figure unexpectedly pushed through the crowd toward him. It took him a moment to recognize her—it was Jara.

She looked different. Her black hair was pulled back, emphasizing her sharp cheekbones, and her face was flushed again. But this time, it was more likely from drinking anak than from her usual shyness. More than that—she was smiling with excitement.

“You actually came!”

Reng cursed inwardly but forced himself to smile at her. Jara wasn’t to blame for his terrible day.

She reached him and hesitated for a moment. She must have noticed he wasn’t feeling well.

“Are you okay?” she asked with concern. “You look awful.”

“I’m looking for Ela,” he said curtly. “I need to talk to her. Have you seen her?”

Disappointment flashed in her eyes, but she didn’t give up.

“I haven’t, but you know her. She always shows up to be the star of the night. Wait with me. We can dance in the meantime, what do you say?”

She eagerly grabbed his hand as if it were her last chance. The pressure of her fingers hurt more than it pleased him, but for a moment, he imagined what it would be like to stay. On another night, maybe he would have. Maybe he would have let her lead him into the heart of the festivities, where they would dance, laugh, forget everything, and finally truly get to know each other.

But tonight? No. Not tonight.

Hating himself for it, he tore himself away so abruptly that he nearly knocked her over.

“Sorry,” he muttered, though he knew there was no excuse for leaving her standing there, discarded, in the middle of the crowd.

“I have to find Ela,” he repeated stubbornly, glancing at the stranger who had been silently watching them the entire time. Now, the man gave him an expectant look, urging him not to dawdle.

The stage fell silent, and something clenched inside Reng. As long as the music played, he could pretend that nothing could happen. But now? The silence crackled with tension, as if everyone around him was waiting for something.

"Beautiful evening, wouldn’t you say?!" a voice thundered from the stage.

At first, the crowd didn’t react. The man clapped his hands and then sharply whistled on his fingers to get their attention.

"Well? What do you say?!" he repeated, louder this time, sharper.

The first round of applause broke the atmosphere. A hesitant murmur of agreement followed, a few cheers. Reng blinked. On the stage, he recognized Dany, the son of one of the lower councilors. A memory surfaced in his mind—Dany, persistent, with awkward attempts at jokes meant to charm Ela. But now, he seemed different. His stance was tense. His fists clenched tightly, as if holding onto more than just the present moment.

Reng also noticed the knife. A long blade with an ornate handle hung at his side. Dany’s eyes darted over the crowd. He was waiting for a response, for attention.

"What’s going on here?" Reng muttered toward the stranger. The man behind him remained silent, only giving a slight shrug.

"Today marks exactly twenty-five years," Dany continued, his voice now calm, almost friendly, "since our fathers built Karhen Rouz. A quarter of a century! A place in the middle of nowhere has become a home, and we owe it all to them."

His words fell into the silence. Dany’s speech was gaining strength. Each sentence was solid as a brick, fitting into a carefully constructed plan. A few people clapped, someone whistled. Others exchanged glances. Reng swallowed, sensing how Dany was gradually drawing everyone in.

"And so I ask... have we forgotten why we are here? What do these words mean—Truth! Hope! Freedom!? Are they nothing more than empty phrases? Words carved into stone that we walk past every day?" Dany’s voice lowered, but his words carried even more weight than before. "We know the truth... because there is no hope. No freedom!"

The stranger behind Reng snorted but said nothing. Meanwhile, Dany pressed on, his voice growing louder, his tone more urgent, and Reng felt that something about this was very wrong.

"They wiped their asses with us!" a sudden voice bellowed from the crowd. Sharp, crude. One of Gramps' men.

"Exactly!" Dany pointed at the man, his eyes shining. "And do you know why? Because everything is just one big lie!"

The crowd shifted. Shoulders leaned in, heads turned. Some nodded, others exchanged uneasy looks. Reng could feel the tension rolling across the Great Square. Dany knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t speaking to the people—he was speaking to what controlled them. He was awakening their anger, the kind that had been simmering beneath the surface of the oasis for many long cycles.

"Yes!" he shouted, raising his hands. "They lie to us because they’ve stolen everything from us. Truth? Drowned in a flood of lies. Hope? Replaced by fear. And freedom?" His voice broke into a whispering accusation: "Chains that bind us."

The murmuring of the crowd turned into a dark rumble. Reng felt his own breath quickening. He knew Gramps' men were here. Every now and then, he caught a glimpse of a weapon beneath a coat, a hand gripping a blade tightly. Dany on the stage knew it too. And he was smiling.

"While we toil away, they threaten us with losing everything. And when we cry out? They put a knife to our throats! And those who insist on their rights are cast out beyond the wall—forever!" Dany’s voice peaked, resonating across the square.

"Bastards!" someone shouted.

"Bastards!" Dany echoed, arms spread wide in triumph. "And what do we get in return? A few miserable coins and a shipment of spongus for machines we don’t even use. And that’s the point, isn’t it? To them, our lives are worth nothing more than a single tank of fuel we don’t even have the means to burn. Shame!"

Reng realized he was stepping backward, struggling to breathe, but all around him was nothing but heat and stifling air. The anger in the people was pulsing. The air crackled with tension, as if the crowd was waiting for a command. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, trying to slow his breath. He knew it. This wasn’t just a speech. Not tonight.

He turned to the stranger. He searched his face for answers, but the man simply stood there, watching the scene unfold with cold indifference.

"You want to take over this place..." Reng whispered, his words barely audible over the crowd’s noise.

The stranger shrugged. "Look, I just do what I’m told. Asking questions? That wouldn’t get me anywhere."

"So you don’t care?" Reng’s disbelief sounded like an accusation.

"Exactly." The stranger nodded, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Now quit stalling and find your girl. Unless, of course, you’ve been leading me around for nothing."

Reng turned away, his jaw tightening. This man was dangerous. Loyalty to orders clung to him like the stench of sweat. If someone told him to kill Reng, he’d do it instantly. Without hesitation. Without thought.

"Of course not," he muttered, lowering his head to hide his fear. "I just don’t know where she is. She said we’d find her here tonight, but she didn’t say where exactly."

"Then stop talking and start looking," the stranger growled through clenched teeth and shoved Reng with unexpected force. Reng stumbled again, his legs betraying him, barely keeping him upright.

He wanted to turn and yell, to lash out, but then...

A new voice cut through the air.

"Hey, Dany, what the hell are you talking about?!"

Reng's stomach clenched. He turned, his heart skipping a beat. The left edge of the square—that's where the next shout had come from.

"I think I found her," he muttered unhappily. His heart pounded in his throat as he scanned the crowd. Ela. Where was she?

If anyone hurt her, it would be his fault. Because he hadn’t found her in time.

"What did they promise you to make you lie like this? Dany, do you hear me? You're a liar!"

Why was she saying that? Didn’t she understand what she was doing?

Curious eyes in the crowd turned toward her. Some stood on their toes, others pushed forward to get a better view. But Ela didn’t notice. She stood like a beacon, drawing attention to herself, and her words… Her words were like water dripping into scalding oil.

Dany hesitated on stage. Maybe he was trying to look surprised, as if he had only just noticed her. But Reng could see the gears turning in his head. He already knew how to twist her accusation to his advantage. Reng bit his lip. With Ela, it wouldn’t be hard. Her departure for Prim had been a sore point for many people here.

"Well, well," Dany bellowed, narrowing his eyes as if only now recognizing her. "If it isn’t our dear Ela! You all remember her, don’t you? We were never good enough for her, so she traded us for Prim!"

He pointed a finger into the crowd, directly at where Ela stood. Reng silently thanked him for that—now he knew exactly where to go.

"So tell us, where do you see anything good in what’s happening to us?" Dany challenged her, his intention clear—to humiliate her in front of everyone.

Ela didn’t hesitate. Her voice was steady, urgent.

"Are you blind? They gave you a home and work. Karhen Rouz stands only because of them!"

The crowd murmured. Some whispered, others watched her with suspicion. Ela searched for an ally. Her eyes darted around, but all she met were stone-faced stares.

"We built the oasis!" a deep voice called from the crowd.

Ela turned to face him, her reply swift and sharp.

"Really? And do you think the materials and resources just appeared out of nowhere? What about the machines? The food? In the early years, Prim literally fed this oasis so you wouldn’t starve! Have you already forgotten?"

Silence. Ela was the only one speaking now. Her voice shattered against a wall of memories no one wanted to face.

Reng watched as Dany’s gaze slowly swept over the crowd. He was nervous, unsettled by his loss of control. Because Ela was right, and many in the crowd knew it. But truth… Truth was an unwelcome guest tonight.

Reng couldn’t help but admire her courage. It wasn’t just the decision to stand against Dany—Ela knew exactly what she was talking about. She knew the history of her home down to the smallest detail, without embellishments or illusions, and she had the determination to defend it. But she had forgotten how fragile human memory could be. It took so little to push aside what was inconvenient. The oasis’s dependence on Prim, the memories of its early support, all of it had been replaced by stories people much preferred to hear.

"But Prim didn’t do it out of the goodness of their hearts, and you know that," Dany snapped, his voice cutting through the crowd, dripping with sarcasm. "They sent the ones who got in their way. Like your father, Ela. He was a Drifter, and you know exactly what they were. Prim hated them. That’s why he and others ended up here."

Ela took a breath, her lips curling into a smirk. But disappointment didn’t stop her.

"That’s the best you’ve got? My father’s past? What about my present, Dany? I was in Prim. I know how things work there, and I’m telling you, nothing you’re saying here is true."

The crowd hushed. A ripple of murmurs spread—disagreement, curiosity, uncertainty. Dany scanned the heads in front of him, searching for a way to regain his grip on the moment. But his loudest supporters had gone quiet. Ela’s words had struck their mark.

"And what is the truth, then?" Dany asked.

He tried to sound composed, but his eyes betrayed him. They burned with tension and frustration. Ela took his question as a challenge. She pushed through the crowd and leaped onto the stage beside him. In the glow of the lanterns, her silhouette stood sharp against the night.

"Then let me tell you."

Reng watched as Ela placed herself in full view of the crowd, and his chest tightened.

"For twenty-five years, Prim asked nothing of you," Ela began, her voice striking the crowd like a hammer. "And now, after a whole quarter-century, they came with a single request. One request—for which they paid you. It wasn’t a command, it was a trade. All they asked for was food for those fighting not just for Prim, but for you as well. They didn’t take your men, your women, or—gods forbid—your children. Just a little extra labor. And while hundreds die in the south, you sit here in safety. Are you really surprised the rest of the world sees us as useless, dead weight?"

The crowd rumbled like a storm brewing on the horizon. Some lowered their eyes, others clenched their fists. Ela wasn’t attacking them—she was simply tearing the masks from their faces.

Reng quickened his pace.

"We need to get her out of here," he muttered through clenched teeth.

The stranger beside him nodded. "Past due time."

"What do we care if people are dying somewhere else?" Dany shouted. His voice was provocative, as if he wanted to ignite the flame. "People die every day. And if someone wants to get themselves killed for Prim, I see no reason to stop them."

"Exactly! It’s none of our concern!" another voice chimed in. Tork, the overweight technician, was pushing his way toward the stage, his face flushed red, his eyes full of anger. "They should leave us out of it!"

But Ela wasn’t backing down.

"You should care!" Her voice, sharp as a blade, cut through the roaring crowd. "You’re like kreliniak burrowed in your own holes! Screaming that you’re victims—but you know what? Out there, no one even knows you exist! Karhen Rouz? To most people, it’s just a dot on a map they can’t even find! And instead of trying to change that, all you do is whine about how oppressed you are! This is your chance! A chance to finally be part of something bigger."

"You talk like a traitor!" someone yelled from the crowd.

More voices joined in, their shouts merging into a hateful uproar. A glass bottle suddenly flew through the air. Ela barely dodged in time, and the sharp shards scattered in all directions.

"She betrayed us!" Dany roared. "She left us! Ran off to Prim and now she’s here telling us how to live! Of course! But what does she even know about us? She doesn’t even live here anymore, so how can she understand what we’re going through?!"

Ela turned to him, her gaze proud. "I know more about this oasis than you ever will. While you spent years waiting for something to fall into your lap, I was actually doing something to make life better."

"Doing what?!" Dany’s voice dripped with hatred now. The crowd rumbled, their anger spreading like poison.

Ela stepped closer to him. "This… all of this is pathetic. Your speeches, your hatred, your small-mindedness. Dany, you don’t need an enemy out there—you’re your own worst enemy!"

The crowd roared, as if ready to devour her. Reng had reached the stage, but it was too late. Ela had held up a mirror that no one wanted to see.

"And what about you, Reng?!" Dany’s voice suddenly turned on him. "You’ve been awfully quiet, huh? Why aren’t you defending her? She claims she was trying to make life better for us—so tell me, what exactly did she do for you?"

Reng froze. People began turning, their eyes settling on him. He took an uneasy step back and bumped into the stranger behind him. There was nowhere to go but forward.

"Tell us," Dany hissed like a snake, his eyes burning with triumph. "Does Noel already know how you spend your nights with his daughter? Or is that still a little secret you two whisper under the covers?"

Sweat ran down Reng’s back, every drop stinging like an icy needle. On the stage, Ela gasped—a sound that was almost a muffled cry. The first snickers rose from the crowd, then more. Reng swallowed hard, trying to speak, but his voice failed him. His eyes met Ela’s. For the first time, he saw her lose her resolve.

And he saw fear.

And that crushed him more than any of Dany’s poisonous words.

"That’s none of your business," Ela whispered. Her voice was losing strength, as if the last shred of certainty was slipping away from her.

"So it’s true?" Dany spread his arms wide, the triumph on his face unbearable. "Do you see this, people? And she tries to act like some moral example for all of us! And this is her hero. He doesn’t say much, but it seems talking is the last thing our dear Ela wants from him."

Ela straightened defiantly, but it was too late. The crowd roared, shouts turning into insults, the air thick with hatred. Reng wanted to speak, but the words stuck in his throat, choking him.

"She’s a whore!" someone screamed from the crowd.

And then it happened.

A thrown rock cut through the air. It struck the stage, bounced, and hit Ela squarely, catching her off guard.

The overweight Tork moved with surprising agility, lunging onto the stage and roughly shoving Reng aside. Ela cried out, but her voice was swallowed by the deafening uproar of the crowd.

The stranger, who had been silently watching until now, finally sprang into action. He punched one of the advancing settlers square in the face and roared at Reng: "What the hell are you waiting for? Get her out of here!"

But the crowd swallowed them up again. Another glass bottle shattered into shards, and someone grabbed Ela’s arm. Reng tried to push forward, to climb onto the stage, but someone kicked his legs out from under him. He fell—hard—onto the sharp, glittering fragments.

Chaos erupted around him. Screams, stomping feet, the crash of breaking glass. Ela’s voice was lost in the frenzy. He lifted his head and saw her—she was behind the stranger, who had managed to fight his way onto the stage and was now grappling with another attacker.

"Don’t you dare touch her!" he snarled, and suddenly, a weapon was in his hand.

For the first time, it seemed that, at least on the stage, the chaos slowed.

Reng struggled to get up, but another shove sent him sprawling again. The crowd surged and churned, trampling over him. The sounds blurred together, a relentless roar, like being submerged in thick fog.

Then, through the void, a sharp, feminine cry pierced the air.

"I trusted you!"

Jara’s voice cut through the uproar, and suddenly, Reng saw her right in front of him, leaning over him.

She was pale, visibly trembling. Tears streaked down her cheeks, leaving dark, smudged trails—like rivers of despair. Her lips twisted in an expression of pure revulsion. In her dark eyes, he saw hatred—hatred, and every sin he had ever committed against her.

It all condensed into that single look.

It dawned on him that she wasn’t looking into his eyes. Her gaze was fixed much lower.

He lowered his head and stared at the handle of a kitchen knife, still gripped by her delicate hand.

She let go.

The blade remained lodged in his side, as if it had always belonged there. The intricately engraved initials on the hilt gleamed—a clear, unmistakable signature.

"Jara…" he rasped, more in disbelief than in despair.

He looked around. Faces that had once seemed familiar now watched him with empty expressions. Fear. Contempt. In their eyes, he was no longer one of them—just an outsider who had failed to learn their rules.

He tried to stand again. But his knees betrayed him, just as he had betrayed everything he had once sworn to.

Someone was calling his name, desperately. But he no longer recognized the voice.

The world spun. The crowd surged, moving like a tide, shifting back and forth. And then—he saw them. More blades. Glimpses of steel dancing in the lantern light.

One last time, he tried to summon his strength.

But the world around him sank into darkness.

The screams faded into distant echoes. The calls for help dissolved.

The crowd stepped over him.

Judgment had been passed.

Time to move on.