Bloodlines of Archaea I. Afira
A Hidden Secret from the Past

“So because neither of us slept last night, we should have just a little while left to go, until we reached the Island of Meilei” I said tiredly, putting the torches away.

“And just to be safe, one of us should stay awake to keep watch, even if it we think we’re safe at an inn, or something, we never know when the shadow creatures may arrive.” Akuma said, dropping our anchor into the water. I groaned at the thought of never having a full night’s rest for the rest of the trip.

I dug around in the storage, and pulled out a melon, slicing it, and handing half to Akuma. “Your hand should be healed, by now,” I said, “you can probably unwrap it.” I watched him as he carefully unwrapped his hand. When he was finished, he looked down, expecting to see his hand healed, he looked up at me, shocked. “What is it?” I asked, worried. He held his hand up, for me to see. My eyes widened as I took in the sight of his hand, utterly confused. His hand had healed, but in the place of his wounds, were huge scars, which covered most of his palm. “I don’t understand, why would it have scarred this way? There shouldn’t be a single scar, and yet…” I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence. He looked away, as if the sight of his hand, itself was painful to look at.

“Maybe a piece of dirt?” He asked, quietly.

“Did you feel anything? I wish I had checked sooner.” I said, blaming myself.

“It kind of burned at times, I was afraid to see what may be happening,” he said. I winced, hoping it wasn’t my fault. He looked over at me, realizing what I thought, and quickly said, “that’s a poor choice of words. What I meant was it stung, it probably had nothing to do with you.”

“How could it not have? On the one hand, I accidentally hurt you that one time, and on the other, I was the one who unwrapped and rewrapped it, every day.” I said, folding my arms over my legs. Something hard hit my side from inside one of my pockets. I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand, remembering what it was. Akuma seemed to pick up on my excitement.

“What?” He asked, moving closer. I pulled out an old book with a dark grey cover.

“It’s Maktu’s book. I forgot it was here.” I said, flipping it open. The pages were dusty, and some of the words had faded, but the top of the page read clearly, “Savali’s journal, my Encounters.” I looked up, gasping as excitement flooded my brain. “This book belonged to my Mother,” I whispered.

“Wait, what?” He asked, in disbelief.

“Why would Maktu give me an old book that belonged to my deceased mother?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“Maybe it has information we can use?” He said, unsure, as he watched me flip through the pages, excitedly.