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He died a handsome old man. I don't know his name. Oldman. It's what I called him. It's what I remember honoring him as. He wasn't kind, neither was he cruel.

He took me in his shelter when he could've left me to perish. I reminisce, an unwanted memory of him denying that he was my father when I had asked him.

'I am not your anything. Now get going and fetch water for me'

Now that I think, it's everything he ever asked of me. Fetch this, get that, put that down and wear clothes that were for boys. He would sew them himself by the matted floor. Trimmed my hair and made impulsive efforts to present me as a boy.

Timo, he would call me. Timothee Kasper. A silly made-up name that he chose for me. It was on his death bed was when he revealed my name, tying a pastel ribbon with a imprinted letters on my wrist as I sat beside sobbing. Hungry and afraid of why the old man hadn't been barking orders around me. Dreading at the way his voice sat when he spoke or fingers trembled while he ate. His breaths were shallow and he cried in his sleep.

'It was tied to your ankle when I found you' his voice lapsed with building cough and wheeze. Lids kept drooping when he fought to stay awake, weakly. His hands found mine, they burned with fever. He was dissolving, but his gaze hardened as a whine squeaked through me.

Iris Lavera. It read. But I didn't halt to understand what it meant.

"What is happening to you old man?"

A wind of sadness passed his features before his vision goes rigid, again.

"Be happy for me. I am meeting my family"

This fumes my resentment.

"I am your family" the rage prowled like a predator in me, it was slashes of blue, green, and red that took me in. I wanted to make him hurt as i did. But when his fingers hold me by mine. I come back gasping, my conscious I back into the room, gasping for air and wondering if the rage even was mine. The old man doesn't seem to be surprised by it. Curious maybe. It's How he lived his whole life. Navigating manuscripts in the fashion he regarded me.

"I am just an old man in your world Iris" he smiles, Stunned I watched in silence to a man whose first-ever smile witnessed by me was a pool of melancholy. He might have brewed a wail in its place. But selfishly I clung onto the way he addressed my existence. Iris. Who was iris? I don't know. But in the life of Timo- this old man was his roof and fire.

"I am Timo" I retort again In passive stubbornness. He gives out a throaty laugh with a whisper "You are- just like her"

"Like who?" He frowns when I butt my nose into his solo thoughts. The fever seems to have eaten up the arrogance that keeps him iced. If there was one person who flawlessly suited along the Ivyakis atmosphere- it would be him.

"Like how I raised you, you have what it takes to leave this hell behind" he says as his eyes shut, a pained moan exhales through him as I shake his shoulder to nudge him awake. The medic warned me to do so, I haven't slept in so long with such a task at hand. But no matter what I try, he didn't open his eyes this while- I crouch my ears closer to his mumbling whispers and soak in his last works "Let me go child, I have done my part"

Wielded to strongly believe that I was a boy till eight years of age. I found a book on human anatomy buried deep in pantry box years after he was gone. Iris, it was indeed a feminine name. And it was allegedly mine.

Post to that, I had well-deserved nightmares for a week.

It's not in me, I can't bring myself to think that he manipulated me into someone to get work done. I yearn to believe he did it to protect me. There's no doubt that when we people of Helios escaped, the warriors targeted women the most. Since a curse is said to have a forsaken gender, it isn't surprising that only a few of us made it.

Many took to a different direction the evening a country abandoned us. In the morning the people of Helios were nurtured and facilitated. By night a seizure was announced.

We were called traitors, a scar in porcelain palace, smudged dirt in their heaven.

All because a seer saw a forthcoming. They believed him blindly when he spitted out a ridiculous prophecy. A prediction that commits a killer to have born among us, the one who would kill an heir. Kill him and bring annihilation into the kingdom of Antar.

If it was for me, I would never step on an Antarian soil, let alone set sail to the city or even speak of his damned name. Because I would never want to see a pathetic soul that reckons himself higher than my entire tribe.

If it was for me, I would curse him myself.

If it was for me, I would steer clear from his lane and start a new live over.

If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have to put up with Dorin and his hormonal quest this very night.

"You go get her yourself" I whisper hastily with a clatter of my teeth. Lord knows how late in the night was this as we stood bundled up by Mr. Birch's house. I was, he doesn't even require the vest and cotton shirt that he wore with the lava runs in his veins.

"I would have If I can fit through the window" he retorts, jumpy on the heels to heave his jute knapsack. It's been three days since we fell through a conclusion. We are taking her with us.

"So you tried?" Hiding my mock smirk I test the shaft pole for its strength. The teeth of cold bites into me. My lips have never been so crisp. Nose not so numb. Knuckles so red and skin so pale.

"If I get caught, save me" snaking my arms by the bar I clung to it, raking up the short distance "I am too young to die in the sweaty hands of Mr. Birch"

"You are almost eighteen. That's pretty old" I scowl at his remark. "I will write you a eulogy though"

That was a hollow encouragement. As if anyone would spare their time and energy to attend my funeral. With our population rising scarcely above one sixty-three, everyone is a familiar face in the throng. But does anyone honestly care?

Pulling my body up I flat my palm again my beret cap. It belonged to the old man, he religiously got furious if I sneakily tried it on and if he caught me doing so. And now I wear it for care to save my scalp from frost.

The room bathes orange with the fire lit in the corner. There is a woven dress laid by a chair which often makes sketchy noises when I had to move it aside to clean the floor. Pressed and recycled paper is stashed by a crooked dresser and a jar of ink beside it, my eyes roam around before I look down to see Dorin.

"She is not here" I yell a whisper. "What if she already got married and took off?"

Even on dark night scale, I catch the glare Dorin throws my way. Then I get yanked away with a tug, a clinch in the back of my shirt as I open my mouth to wheeze in shock.

But my instincts kick in as I twist my body simultaneously embracing the invader and gently smashing it to the ground.

Castles heaves settle beneath me as she snarls expressively.

Scooting away from her I watch her drape herself with a cotton towel and glared at me.

Then she signs.

Her fingers coils uncoil, spelling her words as I read her dictations.

"I always knew that you were a pervert?" I speak out for her in ridiculous sputter.

She nods calmly.

"Oh, you think you know everything huh?" I throw my hands in the air, my frustration seems to amuse her. "Just because you have the embossed map doesn't make me trust you a bit"

She flicks her damp fresh out of bath hair to the side, her brows points as she picks her dress from the chair. I look away politely as she lets the wrap fall to the ground. After she got presentable I stare at the dress with envy.

Like I did every time she wore something pretty. Not realizing that she thought something else of my actions.

-Else that gave her some outrageous ideas while i-

While I was envious that she could be the person she is. But she-

'Dorin told you?'

He did. Why would he not? He was the only folk I trust. And the sole means to liberation.

"He even tells me about the toe hole in his sock. In fact there are rather very less things he doesn't tell me of"

Things that involve how his heart giggles for the Castle.

But Castle seems to delight in my rude tone. Immediately I infer the mistake I made. She assumably now believes that I was jealous of Dorins attention on her.

Oh, Castle.

-And poor me.

"Well," I got up dusting my pants "I am here with a piece of information. Dorin and I have decided to start by the end of this week. You have four days to pack your things and sell your loyalty to us"

Foreseeing her contentment I look up when a dread settles on her face.

"What's wrong?" I drag the question out starkly struggling to read her face.

She simply walks across to collect some papers and hands them to me. Luckily, unlike Dorin and many others who can't afford to, I can read. Perks to having an enigmatic librarian as a mentor.

It's a wedlock page, with the date of dawn. Tomorrow morning.

'I don't have time' she motions, her desperation causing me to tug at my hair in unconsciousness As if encouraging my wig to bless me with strategy. Then I crane to notice Dorin. He seems impatient with his pacing. I can't do this to him.

Castle was the only girl he ever showed affection towards. She is the only prosperity I could help him have.

And we also need the embossed map.

So I tear the paper into two -then four.

"Wear a trouser and grab every winter essential you own so far"

At first, a frown pulls in her, then her lips part in astonishment. But it wasn't over yet.

"You better be versed with trekking mountains and ascending trees. Because I can't let Dorin loose his beneficial limbs while you play a foolish damsel"

This doesn't suffice here. She huffs in disbelief.

'As if you are too heartless to watch me die without doing anything'

I think for a moment. I genuinely do. Then I confess with a smile.

"My lady' With the amount of strength I have in my arms and faith in myself, It might be a miracle if I push past the first wave of the snowstorm"

My girl has girls crushing on her. Cute ;).

Hope you enjoyed. Vote and comment if you did. The journey to Antar begins soon :)