Daybreak

The world was silent when we died. And on this day, the world – our world – remained silent. The low rumbles and crackling of the raging fire was all I could hear. I turned away and closed my eyes, willing to rid of the sight before me. I rather see darkness than death of a loved one again.

“You mustn’t look away, my child.” I felt a hand rest on my shoulder.

“Papa,” I shook my head, my eyes still closed. “I don’t want to watch this. Not again.”

“I know.” Arnon’s voice was low and soft. “No one does.”

I slowly exhaled and opened my eyes. Taking another breath in, I felt my lungs wither, drowned by the stench of smoke and soot as I watched our home burn. It was only yesterday, I was walking down the dusty market streets, weaving through the throng of people, ignoring the cacophony of shouting of deals and gossip. The air was dry but filled with many scents of food, produce, and spices so rich I could taste them in my mouth. Now, the only flavour I had felt was the bitter taste of copper lodged in my throat as I tried to swat the ashes away.

“He promised he would take me to Guadolem’s Peak tomorrow…”

The Elders wouldn’t tell us what happened, but Ascher said our hunters found him, gravely wounded. Ascher said it looked like he was tortured. Despite our best healer’s greatest efforts, nothing could save him. Not even my father. It was at nightfall when he took his final breath and it was at first light we burned everything. The morning light had barely stroked the ground when we gathered our belongings and kindled the fire. Now, the fire was destroying everything.

I felt my father’s hand grip tightened. His voice grew weary, “As we acknowledge life, we must also acknowledge death.”

I watched the flames flicker and curl, almost hypnotised in a daze. We built our dwellings from stone, fabric and when available, wood. We carved each stone meticulously, and each fabric was woven by our hands. I remembered the times Lamein would sit me on his lap and teach me the needle and thread. I remembered when Cassia and I had to sew the fabric for Eril’s window. It took us longer than usual, from dusk till dawn, but we finished the cloth. It was magnificent, vibrant with colours. It matched our streets and its people. Despite our hands being tired and sore and despite Ascher saying it was poor needlework, Eril loved it. As did Lamein. Lamein paraded that cloth all day, strolling through the market streets to the temple gates, showing everyone our work. I remembered how Cassia and I glanced at each other, stifling our giggles and beaming with pride. Now I was watching the fire consume our once beautiful village. Nothing but ashes would remain. I sighed, wrenching my eyes to break free.

“Come, my child.” Arnon beckoned me to hurry, his weathered face concreted a grim expression.

This was one of our ways, our quiet burnings. The steady ache inside me intensified as I began to walk away. As much as I questioned why, I knew why this was our way. The stories Arnon and the Elders told me since birth were deeply engraved in my memory. Those memories don’t belong to me, but I have lived my life as if they were. I shook my head at the thought, my hair now saturated with the smell of smoke and dust. I haven’t lived in those times we were once known, but I knew the truth. I knew what would happen. I know we cannot afford being discovered again. The brutality of our beloved Lamein was a horrific reminder our reality.

“We must continue walking forward.” Arnon frowned as he adjusted my hood over my head, in a similar fashion as his. His seasoned hands brushed my cheek. Here in the desolated wasteland, we always wore our cloaks. Aside from shielding us from the blistering heat, it provided us Halflings great stealth. He wrapped his cloaked arm around me, urging me to move. “My child, enough. Let’s go.”

I nodded. I mustn’t linger. This was our ways. Now with everything burnt and destroyed, we can move quickly and find a new home. I had always dreamt of the day we’d never have the need to move again. I hesitated and glanced back at our home. It wouldn’t be today.

The smoke was overwhelming, burning my eyes that they began to water. My chest felt heavy and ached with each beat, each breath I took. I felt the unsettling truth twist and pull inside me. I knew why. I knew the truth. We all did. But we never spoke about it.

We are not pure. We are not natural. To them, we are abominations.

I clutched my satchel and lifted my gaze, turning towards where we headed next. Our next home. I saw what I had known my whole life. Beneath the cruel sun, stretched as far as the eye could see, I saw a landscape of golden sand. I wiped my brow and began the walk. My mouth was already dry. Not even a whisper of wind would soften the unforgiving heat.

“For you.” Arnon extended his arm and unclenched his fist, revealing a calloused palm. In it, a small whirlwind began to manifest. I watched the current spin faster and faster, the sound of wings flapping echoing louder. The small whirlwind intensified, developing into dazzling sphere.

“Aethra…” I leaned forward at the sight. Use of Aethra was common, but to materialise it? Only a select few could master. I knew Arnon could, he just never showed me. Or anyone, for that matter. The winds faded, but the lustrous orb remained.

“Use this and you can call upon the wisdom of our people.” Arnon looked at me as he handed me the orb. “Our wisdom is of good and evil, but you mustn’t use this for evil.”

I held the orb to the sky. A beacon of light pierced through the orb, deflecting beams of iridescent light, illuminating my face and arm. Aethra. Arnon frowned and placed it in the palm of my hand, closing it. “This Aethra is the gift of healing. Use it wisely.”

Turning to my father, I tried to smile as I pocketed the orb. “My people are your people.”

“And mine are yours.” He wrapped an arm around me as we walked on. “Let us walk. The time has come.”

I nodded and wrapped my arm around my father in return. It was time. I never believed it would come, a time without our beloved Lamein, but the orb Arnon gave me made it feel less surreal.


The walk was a long and silent journey. Only at night, I heard the wailings and cries of our people. We can only mourn when we know we are safe. Death has come and gone but we continued to live in fear and silence. I swallowed, ignoring the gnawing pain in my chest. I know the outside world doesn’t acknowledge our death, let alone our life. They may not know it or care to, but it wasn’t fair and it isn’t right.

That night, I heard the quiet sobs leak from my father’s room. The raw pain flared up inside me again, I lost my breath. I clutched onto my garments and cradled myself. I felt the numbness wash over me. Lamein was like a father to my father. He was a father to all. Arnon told me the stories of how Lamein gathered other Halflings and gave them a home. He founded this village for Halflings. In my heart, I knew what really happened. Lamein was probably searching for other Halflings to help, but instead was discovered by them – the pure races.

Being a Halfling, I know the stories of the other races, the stories of the Humans, the Elves, the Sprites, the Drakes, the Diablons and the Celestians. But what about us, the Halflings? Do we not deserve a life? Is it because we are half of we are less deserving? Throughout our lives, we cried in silence and cowered in fear. I clenched the Aethra orb in my pocket and looked forward, willing my tears to stop flowing, hoping this numbness would just swallow me whole. But inside me, beside the pain of sorrow, I felt the seething flames of anger grow. It’s been a while since I heard the cries of our people – though we are no strangers to suffering. But, I’m tired of it. I hated this silence. The world was silent when we died, but one day, I’ll make them hear the cries of our people. One day, the stories of our dead will be passed beyond their burnt grave.