In the warehouse of systems, the two stood above the rest in the cold hall, whilst they watched employees wipe sweat off their foreheads, relentlessly perfecting the creations from blueprints.
From beyond the tempered glass, people from all realms shouted tribes like the name of their true homes.
Some shouted Marah, some shouted Nawra, some shouted Penthos, and some shouted Selicha.
Jibril watched it unfold from above. As the workers from below saw him, they yelled, "Great process, Head-Bearer!"
In response, he waved with a single pinky, but he only noticed the table in the center. Jibril wore a black turtleneck; every part of skin on his body was covered except for his hands.
Then, the workers automated arrays of holographic scenes. The screens of blue hues showed the interiors of a plethora of homes—houses with smiles, quivers, tears, and emptiness . . .
Jibril placed his entire hand on the glass, "Silo, we allow them to leave once a year by boat to gather new refugees. These will be our scapegoats. In a sense, we have created a prison without bars."
Silo asked, "But aren't you concerned if they leave elsewhere, away from the Ant Farm?"
Jibril laughed, "They will always return to their open cage of sanctuary, when the room the cage sits in has always been closed. The bars are clear as day anywhere else; here, not so much."
"We have created the first prison without bars, a test drive for panoptic evolution. I control, and only consider those willing to control alongside me." He placed a palm on Silo's shoulder.
Jibril felt a liquor being handed to him in his other palm. He turned, but nobody was there.
Silo seemed to wave at something walking past, but all that passed them was a slight breeze.
He gleamed behind the mask, "It takes a different kind of heart to only ever consider. You were born with one, Silo, so embrace the path it desires. However, I'm not so sure if I was born with one in the first place."
Then, sighing, "I cannot tell whether it's gold or a darker shade, yet I'm considering it. Does that mean I can control it, or is that a golden lie?"
Ambience fell louder as they exhaled in serenity.
A sudden calmness traveled up their spine, as they stared at what they were able to control and observe.
Jibril silently murmured to himself, "If I cannot see it, does it control me . . . ?"
. . . .
Earlier, before chants of a vice-chief and a bayonet emitted from a courthouse.
Adirah had assisted a bloody-eyed Kaya to the restroom.
The air felt heavy, and she felt a deep pain wrapped around her body, right above her necklace.
Her body was limp, and her blurry vision focused on a figure holding a blade that faced her, consuming all light around it. She tried to speak to it, but her lips felt heavy.
She could see it, but she couldn't control it.
On the body holding the blade: layered scars, a swirling gray eye, and that mark she saw.
It was vivid, and a memory blitzed past her sight. She remembered him laying unconscious on that bed, with that mark, only faded. Now, it appeared to be deeply tattooed into his flesh.
Her thoughts slowly formed a coherent sequence of words.
That outline . . . I knew you and me had something in common. I just didn't know it would be on your forearm. Maybe now, we can have something to relate to, something we don't have to hide anymore.
For a second, she doubted her thought, as she considered that maybe it could've been just a hallucination.
If she could laugh, she would. Instead, it just felt like a delirium that she couldn't handle. Faint images of memories crowded her, and she remembered nearly submitting to the council.
If she could vomit, she would. Instead, it felt like those decrepit fingers crawling up her waist again, and she was powerless against it.
If she could cry, she would. Instead, it felt like a river withstood in the color of her dark irises. The gold-amber in her eyes had dimmed out, as she couldn't bear that agony any longer.
Adirah heard Kaya's feet scrape on the red carpet, as she held her tightly, wrapping her arms around her waist like a backpack.
When they entered the restroom, Kaya had nearly given out. The old woman gently lay her down on the floor.
Looking around, it was a wooden bathroom with four stalls.
Noticing Kaya's dissonance, she lightly smacked her on the cheek to wake up. "You need to wake up, Kaya-dear."
Suddenly, Kaya heard a voice that sounded familiar, and she stood up with a light in her speech, "Amaya? Is that you?"
Her vision still faltered. She saw the outline of gold that shaped Adirah, although she had mistaken her. Everything surrounding the gold was filled to the brim with total darkness.
"No, darling. You need to get up. Those monsters wanted to hurt you. I know you'd never do wrong, so you don't have to. We can pretend we did, just to get by."
Kaya shook her head. Suddenly, a tear broke through, "I'll do it."
Weakly, she stood up, and Adirah assisted her. Kaya felt a weakness in her limbs, but she walked with a slight wobble in her steps. Her own weight felt like heavy blades strapped to her like ornaments.
Adirah's words deformed in her mind, condensing, yet barely making through, "You don't have to do this, Kaya. Nothing's forcing you."
It translated in her mind: "You don't have to tell the truth. You can just keep lying and nobody will ever know the truth. To them, your name is just as regular as any."
The twisted words stabbed her like the blades strapped to her, slowly piercing her skin the more she waited.
Quickly, she opened the wooden stall, and it creaked as she closed it behind her.
Adirah laid her palm on the oak-wood stall, "I can't imagine what you're going through, a young girl like you."
From outside, there were muffled chants, and what appeared to be an argument between a golden mouth and a golden lie.
Ignoring it, she continued, "Those monsters were stabbed, as they should. You have nothing to be afraid of anymore."
Beyond the stall, she heard a soft rustling as something was thrown on the ground.
At her feet, she felt a shirt land on them.
"Kaya . . ." she whispered, tightly shutting her eyes.
Then, a scratching arose, and a clinking, like blades were tapping against one another, slowly being removed.
After a second—
Thump.
The weight strapped to her had been released, and she kicked it.
It scraped the wooden floor, exiting from the stall.
When Adirah saw it, she dropped to her knees.
Turning her head, she heard silent whimpers and sniffling from the girl she thought she knew.
Adirah held her heart, as she looked around and concealed it with her body, making sure none saw.
Beneath her, it lay enveloped in a thousand truths and lies.
A wire. Cold, dark, and listening.
. . .
"Kaya. W-why?" the old woman asked, hyperventilating.
Behind the stall, she stayed silent.
Quietly, she grabbed her shirt and slowly put it back on.
Adirah spoke again, "W-was this of your will?"
Then, the door slowly opened.
Kaya began to crawl to Adirah and hugged her waist as she wouldn't let go. She wiped her tears on her clothing, as her muffled voice arose.
For a second, only her snivels were audible. The crowd from beyond the restroom had stood in awe at something.
Kaya lifted her head, "I never wanted this. But I found someone that made me want to forget it. Somebody that made it worth that weight."
Adirah stroked her hair, "It's okay, Kaya. You're safe."
Sniffling, she said, "I felt like my strip away from me every step towards here. I kept my composure for him, but that led to nothing."
"But why, Kaya? Why did you proceed with it? Did you feel forced to do it for him?" Adirah curiously asked.
Kaya's words stumbled slightly, "Because my home and the people that surrounded it brought me to this. At first, I thought if I let them search me, they'd see I was what they were looking for, so they'd only blame me rather than the others," she answered weakly.
The old woman frowned, "Ohh, but that doesn't help, dear. If they saw it, they would've sentenced you three."
"I wasn't thinking. I found someone to live for, but that weight made me remember the world I lived in. That somebody lived in a different world than me, but we understood that type of pain."
"Did that somebody save you?" Adirah inquired.
Kaya sobbed, "They did. But I felt like a golden thread of bad luck to them. Whenever I was saved, they always had to force their hand."
Continuing, "They gave me a hope that allowed me to handle it. The thought that I'd lose reminded me that I still had debt to pay."
"It was here where I gave up. The ones listening can't find me here. Here, I have a chance at rotting in peace," Kaya said.
She paused, "But now, I'm an empty shell, with the contents of its lies laid out for display. I didn't want it to be that way, but somebody had to see it, or I'd be crushed regardless."
. . .
Outside, the crowd cheered, but the restroom was silent.
Adirah patted her back, "But you aren't obligated anymore. Here, you can be born again, into another life where you can decide your truth, not a truth of any other."
Kaya saw the old woman's face, and it reminded her of an older image of a motherly figure.
The old woman continued, "If that somebody in your life knew, would they think any different of you?"
". . . I feared them telling me to never come back. I'd rather be stabbed, because then I'd bleed out knowing the weight of those words wouldn't burden me anymore."
Gulping, "I was okay with the outcome in that court, as long as I didn't have to think about it, or even anything. But at the same time, I still want to think about that somebody," Kaya uttered.
"If it came to the lives of you or them, who would you pick?" Adirah questioned.
Kaya pointed to herself with a weak hand.
"If that's so, then why did you risk everything in that moment?" she asked.
"It wasn't my will. None of it was. The thread pulled me, and I obliged, as it knew what I thought. I didn't resist, because it was the only option left. I had no fight left. I just wanted to let it go, and finally rest," Kaya muttered softly.
"That thread was sliced. Now, you have the option to do what you know is right," Adirah said.
Kaya stared at the old woman with teary eyes.
It was a stare of relief, enlightenment, and rebirth. In her thoughts, Kaya remembered that somebody's voice.
I sat beside that bed through many nights while you were in that coma. I heard you whisper, 'rebirth' many times . . . Is this the rebirth you spoke of?
I didn't know how much it hurt, but at the same time, I didn't know how beautiful it could be. I hope you can understand this. I'd understand you, even if it hurt.
After a moment of silence, an uproar arose, screaming vice-chief and bayonet. Three men were heard stomping the red carpet as they too snapped their threads.
Marching closer to the exit, they were expecting them.
Adirah gave an endearing smile and whispered something lightly in her ear, "That's our golden ticket, Kaya-dear. Don't waste your chance."
. . . .
It was a beautiful morning, for such a tragic dawn.
They walked through the golden tribe, feeling the ridged roads, weather systems, and playing children.
Each passing resident waved with a smile, as the group kept strolling to the exit past the confines of Marah.
Exiting the tribe's border, Adirah handed Zayne a bag.
"You left this outside my house before the threads convinced you to that ritual," the old woman said.
Zayne stood dumbfounded, wondering where that bag was. He wrapped it around his shoulder, securing it.
Malik assisted in carrying Kaya, supporting her as her feet struggled to stand up. He stared at her with concern, as she felt awfully light, almost like a feather.
Adirah snapped her fingers like a parent, "Pay attention, children. Go to my grandson Noam, he's around your ages, no exploring."
She paused, staring at Kaya, then shifted her focus to Malik, "Child, protect her. She's not feeling well. Remember, she's waiting for somebody."
Then, they all waved to her with a bright gleam, Awan especially, as his bright teeth shone along with his headband.
Separating, Adirah went back to her quiet home, whilst the group faced the forest once more.
Malik felt the grey eyes hung for display on the top of the border laser the back of his head, but he ignored it.
The new vice-chief guided them. This time, he didn't need a spear. He simply waved his hand and knew where to go.
As they walked, the sun flared on their skin, but they paid no mind to it.
Crying seagulls were distant, but seemed to be occupied with each other.
Soon enough, Malik carried Kaya on his back. He walked slowly so as not to disturb her.
Passing trees lined with ants, thick leaves that brought shade, and red rivers, they reminisced on each landmark.
Awan pointed at the point where they met eachother, and Zayne would lightly chuckle, as Malik could only grin. He'd turn his head at certain points and focus on her breathing.
Time passed, and the afternoon was imminent. They yawned, losing count of every plant they spotted.
Then, Kaya opened her eyes. She sneakily reached into her pocket and dropped something. When it fell, it made no sound. She sighed in her mind and went back to sleep.
In her mind, she drifted in thought.
We've both lived lives where others made our decisions for us. For you it was the person with the white hair, and the one who took the picture. For me, it was the people I never wanted to blame.
The fact that you keep moving on your path despite everything inspires me. Now, I have to follow on my path.
She finally let go.
Finally making a decision of her own will, but the question lingered in her.
Did she want it to end that way?