The gate creaked. Dust lifted.
"Ma?" the man said, unsure of the word in his mouth.
Clay shattered inside the yard.
"Gun… " Her voice broke. "Gunley?"
She rushed out, apron smeared with red earth, hands shaking. She grabbed his face, then his shoulders, then pressed her forehead to his chest. "You're here," she laughed. "No, look at you. You came back."
"I told you I would." He set down the bundles, heavy enough to draw eyes, layered wraps, trade seals intact.
His mother loosened her grip, setting her eyes on the bundles, "What have we here?"
"Spices. Cloth worth stealing, and Sugar you only see in city shops."
Neighbors spilled in, before dusk.
"Othmir work paid you well," someone said.
He smiled. "It pays more than it asks."
Hands patted his back. Questions stacked. Laughter bounced off walls. Pride flickered across faces that had known hunger.
Footsteps scraped behind them.
Navir hesitated. Time had refined the man, edges cleaner, copper skin dulled to a lighter hue, touched by gentler suns. His red eyes remained unchanged.
"That must be Navir?" the man asked.
"Mhmm," his mother nodded in reply.
"You were… small."
"You look a lot more different, Brother, I could hardly recognize you." Navir said. His silver-black hair lifted in the breeze.
"We all are."
The young man turned to Sorvan, "And you must be…?"
"Sorvan," Navir cut in.
The Man's eyes brightened, "he looks a lot more older,"
"And handsome," his Mother added.
"That's Nimi, and uh… Samaveh," he said, pointing to them both, simultaneously.
Nimi smiled awkwardly, trying to contain her excitement. Samaveh smiled politely. Sorvan stayed quiet. Ardavan nodded once. Torin lingered at the edge.
"And you?" the man asked, eyes narrowing.
"Torin," he said easily. "We haven't met."
The man caught the accent. The clothes. "You're not from around here," he said without heat.
"From Kunrok."
"Kunrok? You look too calm to be from Kunrok." The man replied.
"Kunrok!?" Sorvan replied, completely oblivious.
"The Biggest slums in Argathe." The man replied.
"Why didn't I catch that sooner?" Sorvan replied.
Laughter erupted.
Torin grinned. "Still breathing."
"And… Ardavan," the young man added. "How much taller would you get?"
The group laughed again.
His mother clapped her hands. "Wait. I have something." Glances followed her as she rose, she returned with a folded photo. "That's my boy, on his Graduation day."
The picture passed. A younger face stared back, hair rough, teeth uneven, eyes too wild for the smile.
Torin leaned toward Ardavan, then whispered. "He looks like he lost it before he left."
Nimi's boot came down hard.
Torin sucked in air. "I deserved that."
Laughter broke the circle.
"You think that's funny?" the man said, amused. "I was terrified that day."
"Of leaving?" Samaveh asked.
"Of staying," he replied. "Argathe never appreciates talents. In Othmir, efforts never go unnoticed."
"You literally get paid for existing."
Navir watched his hands. Clean. Steady.
"So I heard," Navir said.
"There's order," the man answered. "If you bend."
"I don't follow." Navir squinted.
More neighbors arrived. Cousins. Old friends.
"Come back again," his mother said.
"I will," Samaveh promised.
The group exited the compound.
Navir's skin prickled. Wind slid cold along his neck.
He glanced at the road. Too quiet.
His hair lifted, slow and sharp.
Something had shifted.
____________________
The bedroom door creaked as she pushed it open, arms trembling, a tray balanced unevenly in her hands. Steam rose from the porridge and bread, scenting the air with warmth. Her eyes caught him first, lying still on the sheets, chest barely moving, eyes wide and blank, staring up at the ceiling as if the room had vanished. The tray wobbled; a drop of porridge sloshed over the edge. She froze, one hand hovering midair, the other gripping the tray like it might anchor him back.
The tray crashed, spilling the food on the marble floor.
"Gunley!?" She exclaimed in shock, voice reaving.
His body shivered slightly, but nothing stirred behind the red eyes. Alive, but gone.
"Arghhhhh!"
Her scream tore through the streets.
Neighbors poured in. "What happened?" one gasped. "Is he breathing?"
"He… he's here," she whispered, tears streaking her face, "but he's not. Something's wrong.
The ambulance siren wailed nearby.
Medical attendants rushed in.
"Ma'am, please step back," a paramedic said, tone brisk, stethoscope slung around his neck, clipboard in hand. "He's conscious, but exhibiting catatonic-like unresponsiveness. We need to maintain a safe perimeter and monitor vitals. Airway clear, circulation stable, but we'll initiate continuous observation and apply stress-episode protocols."
"What's wrong with him?" She asked.
"Ma'am, step back," a medical attendant said, voice clipped, clipboard in hand. "He's alive, but it's a stress-related episode. We need space."
"Stress-related?" she screamed, nails digging into the attendant's arm. "No! He's inside, he's trapped! Can't you see him? He's gone!"
The attendants exchanged glances. "We need you to let us work," one said, guiding her toward a chair.
Navir stood at the doorway, silent. He watched the chest rise and fall, steady, ordinary. Yet the mind that had laughed, joked, and carried the warmth of a lifetime had already slipped somewhere else. Pulled inward, into a place untouched by sunlight, untouched by medicine.
"He's… he's still with us," the mother said, voice cracking. "I can feel him, but he can't speak. He can't, "
"Ma'am, breathing is good. Eyes are open. That's enough for now," an attendant interrupted.
"No! You don't understand! He's alive, but he's being dragged away!"
Navir's stomach clenched. The threads connecting the man to the world thinned, fraying. The air shimmered subtly, a faint pull in the room he alone could sense.
The mother's cry shredded the quiet of the morning. Her hands clawed at the air, as other women restrained her, fingers trembling as if trying to grab something invisible. Her mouth opened wide, eyes glistening with tears that caught the sunlight like liquid rubies. Faltering even medical personnels. No one could touch what had already slipped beyond reach.
The crowd parted as medics loaded the young man's body onto the ambulance.
Navir's eyes stayed fixed on the ambulance, as it drove off.
Sirens wailing from a distance.