Opium Dreams

The air above Darkhen is getting heavy. Hearts are fearful and lungs are suffocating. The city feels like a cooking pot and fire is brewing under it. The night is shaping up and a full moon is nigh. Something is going on below the surface. Idir is walking back home. His encounter with Manong and Freda lingering in his mind. He did not believe in the existence of such people. Such incredibly powerful people with supernatural prowess. He is a soldier of the common folk. He was taught to reject such ideas and trust in tangible gunpowder. But now he saw, and what he saw changed him.  He enters his house and finds his grandmother sitting at the table, praying. He sits facing her and they exchange looks. She can read his eyes and see faith.  "You saw something" she says, and smiles with a tired face.  He does not reply. He was not listening as his heart is elsewhere. He can not shake it off. This feeling that something big is cooking. A permanent change in the power dynamics of his

The Fifth unit of the red army started regrouping around nightfall.  On paper, their mission was simple. Arrest a young woman, sitting alone, in a hut.  5 minutes ahead of the action, Idir, the youngest of the unit, felt uneasiness in his chest. In fact, ever since this mission was announced, he felt it was a bad idea. Although they maintained a confident facade, he could sense that his comrades were starting to fret. Something was oozing from that hut. Some sort of waves. Not particularly malevolent, but not inviting neither. It was clear that the girl was not keen on company, and Idir and his unit felt it in their bones.  Freda, referred to as the red witch, was an emblematic figure in Darkhen. She was allegedly a descendent of the legendary Khen, and -most importantly- she was the sister of the dissident Chi, the most wanted individual in the red government’s bounty list in all of the Ghentii region. Together with Chi and their brother Mao, they were the ultimate threat to the red g

"These kinds of encounters happen rarely in the course of one's life, especially mundane people like myself" said Viola with a wry smile, as she sipped on her concoction.  Nile saw the statement and understood it as an invitation to comment, but, as has been his habit lately, he chose not to engage. He stayed silent, laying on a straw bed. Viola did not seem to mind. It was not conversation she was after, but listening ears.  "This land has been through a great deal of sorrow" she continued, "Half of it has already been forgotten. It makes my heart ache" Nile picked up his bowl and sipped a bit. It had a foul but familiar taste, and a smell that reminded him of his home on the hillside.  He looked at Viola, a middle-aged woman with fire-red hair and smart features. Her skin was a bit lighter than his but still dark, and she had on a rugged crimson gown that matched her eyes. She took his look as an invitation to carry on the story.  ''When Khen

"What do you think, Mao?" Asked the older brother. "No, How do you feel about it?" "I think it's time" "Good" He said, with a warm smile, and he tapped his brother on the shoulder.  "What about you, Freda?" He looked at his sister  "I'm hesitant. I'm not sure there's enough momentum"  "You think the people won't come if we call?" "I think our call won't be loud enough to reach them"  "Do you want to elaborate more?" Mao stood up and went towards the crackling fire. Some lizards were cooking. He turned them and added some dry twigs to the fire.  "Be careful not to burn it Mao" Said Freda " It looks a bit too hot"  "I'm giving it just enough fire to get it there" replied Mao, fixating intensely on the fire.  "You were saying Freda?" prompted Chi, the older brother, to get his sister back on track.  Freda stood up and started prepari

On the far eastern corner of the known world, in the barren land of the dragon folk, and as the hearts of kings were fixated on exploration and glory, an old flame rekindled as the hundred years came to a close.  A small flame, almost imperceptible. One may even call it a glitch in the centuries-old system. A small glitch, a minor error to be rectified at the most local level of government. A cigarette butt to be stumped without hesitation, and without consequences. The local sheriff did just that. He saw the threat and, afraid of catching fire, he stumped on it mercilessly. He persecuted the perpetrators with the most capital punishment known to man. The punishment of the one God. Fire.  What he failed to realize, what they all failed to realize, was that words have meaning in the hearts of men. Time can sometimes cover it up, like dust on stone. But the meaning remains, hidden, waiting to be conjured. And these words were no ordinary words, these were the words of Panjia, the prayers

This is an interesting story, Nile, but I find it necessary to point this out to you from the start; A long time ago, a group of people, collectively known as the dragon folk, forgot who they are. In essence, that is what this whole story boils down to. Everything else I'm about to tell you is details and background noise. As with all stories, it can start at any point in the history of this land you call the Ghentii region. However, I'll start it at a place that is particularly close to my heart. When man and dragon became one. His name was Khen. His mother was a warrior of one of the rural tribes of the Hexis. His father was a cursed dragon. Their union was unlikely yet inevitable in hindsight. Their meeting was what we call a tectonic event; a simple, seemingly random event that changes the face of the world. Khen was his name. It was his only name, chosen by his mother. The legend says that it came to her in a fever dream. He was the first king of the dragon folk. He united

Like a horse about to be put down, the winter’s last moments are always its fiercest. On the desert of Ghobi, separating the highlands next to the shore and the lands of the dragon folk, and as all of God’s creatures took to hide from the cold, a man was dragging a carriage. Next to him walked a camel, solemnly and reverently, its eyes beaming like a lighthouse. The sun has been down for a couple of hours, and the icy winds were as playful and unpredictable as young pups. The moon and stars lit ablaze, as if aware of their importance to precarious adventurers in these settings. The man was bigger and bulkier than average, clean shaved and wearing a delightful smile. He had a white robe, furry shoes, and he tied a turban around his head. He seemed to be enjoying the situation, as if on a Sunday afternoon stroll. On the carriage was a big pile of wool covers, under which a young face gazed upon the night sky with empty eyes. It was Nile. Neither asleep nor fully awake, stuck in a state o