? Faris S. J. 2024. All rights reserved.


    Chapter Two: Luca''s Shattered Dream


    ‘Luca… Luca… wait, don’t forget to have your lunch! And tomorrow is the celebration day. Prepare yourself!’


    My mother called out from the window as I rushed outside, hurrying to catch the workers'' cart to the city. Her voice, filled with worry and tenderness, was something I’d grown used to. But I couldn’t stop—this cart was my only chance to reach the city on time. I ran as fast as I could, ignoring my empty stomach grumbling about the meal I’d left behind.


    My name is Luca, I’m nineteen years old, and my mother named me after the great national hero, Luca, who led our kingdom of Desilta to freedom from the Ravens Kingdom. That kingdom ruled over nations, enslaving people without mercy, and my mother’s stories of the great Luca’s bravery in facing oppression always filled me with deep passion. I’d always imagined myself as a warrior like him, standing proudly among the ranks of brave fighters.


    I lost my father in the revolution that Luca led against tyranny. I never truly knew him—all I knew were the stories my mother told of how he fought valiantly among the rebels under Luca’s banner. My father died in a battle against the Ravens Kingdom, and whenever my mother spoke of him, tears would fall silently down her cheeks. It always left me with a mix of pride and sadness to hear about his heroics. His absence formed a gaping void in my life, but his memory, and the courage he passed down to us, burned like a fire pushing me forward.


    Tomorrow, I’ll turn twenty years old—the day of the “Path of Life” celebration for every young man in Desilta. The more I thought about it, the faster my heart raced, and the more my nerves tensed. I’d watched others experience this event and always wondered eagerly: when will it be my turn? Tomorrow, at last, I’ll learn about my destiny.


    This celebration determines my entire future—the path I’ll follow for the rest of my life. The thought filled me with both dread and excitement; knowing that my entire life would be decided in a single day was terrifying, yet it also brought a sense of stability and certainty.


    I dream of becoming a warrior—of walking in my father’s footsteps and following the path of Luca, the great leader who guided the revolution against tyranny. He ruled the kingdom for only one year before disappearing, leaving behind his will and laws to establish justice and equality, the core principles that shaped our kingdom’s governance. I picture myself wielding a sword, defending the oppressed, and fighting for justice. The images of my father and the great Luca never leave my mind; I can almost see them there, encouraging me to hold on to my dream.


    The disappearance of Luca was a devastating blow to all of Desilta, but he left behind a will, instructing his deputy to rule the kingdom temporarily until his return. My mother always said this was what gave the people hope—she believed he would come back. Even after all these years, we still cling to his words, living in the hope of his return and striving to uphold his teachings.


    ? ? ?


    I arrived at the village square, where the workers’ cart waited to transport us to the “White City”, the capital of Desilta, to continue the expansion and construction work. Workers crowded around the cart, each carrying their tools, ready for a long day of hard labour. The heat was stifling, and the road ahead rough, but our passion for building our homeland was enough to chase away the exhaustion. Each of us carried a sense of pride at seeing Desilta grow before our eyes.


    The supervisor called out firmly,


    ‘You, go to the western part of the city… and you, head to the north and help repair the roofs damaged by the rain… and you…’


    This was how the workers’ supervisor distributed us when our cart stopped at the assignment square. The man was strict but fair, ensuring the work was divided equally. When my turn came, I was chosen to head to the southern part of the city, where I was tasked with helping to fix a house door damaged by the heavy rains that had fallen throughout the past week. I felt excited about this task—it was a chance to prove my skills in manual work and learn more.


    I went with one of the senior carpenters, assigned as his assistant to repair the damaged door. The carpenter was a seasoned and meticulous man, and I tried to learn as much as I could from his experience. I knew that any skill I gained today could prove useful in the future, regardless of the path that would be chosen for me tomorrow.


    Once we completed the repairs, we returned to the gathering point in the centre of the city, where we waited for the supervisor’s next instructions. This time, I was tasked with accompanying one of the builders to the western part of the city to repair the roof of a merchant’s farmhouse. The sun had begun its descent, but the work was far from over. Exhaustion crept over me, yet I urged myself to keep going, reminding myself that this effort was my humble contribution to building my country.


    Finally, after completing the roof repairs, the supervisor announced the end of the day’s tasks. I joined the rest of the workers in the cart that would take us back to our village. Despite the weariness that showed on everyone’s faces, we all felt satisfaction in our day’s achievements. We shared stories about the work and laughed at some of the amusing situations we’d encountered.


    On the way back, my mind was occupied with thoughts of tomorrow—of the “Path of Life” celebration. I wondered what I would say if I were chosen as a warrior and imagined the joy of my village at the news. I pictured myself wearing the warriors’ uniform, the Life Bracelet glowing red on my wrist, and wielding a weapon to defend my homeland. But deep down, a small worry lingered—what if I were chosen for a different path?


    The Path of Life celebration was a complex ritual, requiring the participant to pass through the Life Gate to see the path they would follow. These were the laws of Desilta, set by the ancestors hundreds of years ago. I often wondered how this process worked. Would it be painful? These thoughts surfaced repeatedly as the outlines of my village came into view. Yet I promised myself that, no matter which path awaited me, I would give my all to serve my country, just as my father and the great leader Luca had done.


    ? ? ?


    The next morning, I awoke to the sound of my mother calling me, reminding me to prepare for the evening’s celebration.


    A surge of joy filled me—at last, the long-awaited day had arrived. Excitement and anxiety mingled within me, and anticipation coursed through my veins. I rose from my bed, fully aware of the importance of this day I’d always dreamed of. I dressed slowly, my mind brimming with all the possibilities that might unfold.


    Moments later, I heard knocking at the door. It was my friend Chris, who’d come to congratulate me and accompany me through the day’s rituals. Village traditions dictated that men share lunch and drink together before wearing the ceremonial garments of Desilta. I opened the door to find him waiting, his face bright with a wide smile. He embraced me warmly, offered his congratulations, and entered the house brimming with enthusiasm, already talking excitedly about the day’s plans.


    ‘When the red dusk appears at sunset, we’ll head to the celebration square atop the high hill, shared by several Desiltan villages, including ours, to begin the Path of Life ritual.’


    Chris explained the details of the celebration, and with every word he spoke, my nerves intensified. I tried to hide my feelings, masking them with a show of confidence and eagerness. I looked at my mother and asked if she wanted to accompany me to the celebration, but she gently replied that she preferred to stay home and prepare the celebratory feast for my return.


    Chris and I headed to the nearby tavern, and as we drank together, I noticed an odd expression settle on his face—a mix of worry and hesitation. Chris was a year older than me, and his path had already been chosen; he was a builder. Yet it seemed as though he wanted to tell me something important, something he was hesitant to say. I tried to read his mind, but his features gave nothing away.


    I asked calmly,


    ‘Chris, is there something you want to tell me before I go through the Path of Life ceremony?’


    Chris looked at me, hesitating before he said,


    ‘No… not exactly… but listen to me, Luca. Your life will change. After today, you won’t be the same Luca we’ve always known, free of obligations. Your path will bind you to a way of life, and you’ll have to sacrifice and dedicate yourself to it.’


    There was a seriousness in his tone, and something deep in his eyes I couldn’t quite place. It made the weight of his words settle heavily on me.


    I answered confidently,


    ‘My friend, everyone knows that. My life’s dream is to become a warrior, and I’ll commit to it with everything I have.’


    I tried to sound resolute, but doubts had started to creep into my heart.


    Chris gave a dry laugh, weighted by drink, then looked at me with tired eyes and said sarcastically,


    ‘And what will you do if you’re not chosen as a warrior? What if your path assigns you to be a builder like me?’


    He raised his hand and stared at his glowing green Life Bracelet. His gaze carried a mix of mockery and pity. Anxiety surged within me; this was the thought I always avoided. Just imagining being chosen for anything other than the warriors filled me with fear and unease. I forced a strained smile, trying to banish those thoughts, but Chris continued,


    ‘I wanted to be a warrior too, but the path chose me as a builder. And Jack—that chubby lad—he dreamed of becoming a merchant, but he was assigned to servitude. For him, it was the worst possible path, and that’s why no one sees him anymore.’Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    His words weighed on me, adding to my nervousness. I felt cold sweat gathering on my forehead.


    Chris carried on, his voice tinged with bitter acceptance:


    ‘You know Desilta’s laws and its paths. We must respect them. The ancestors established these paths, and through them, Desilta’s greatness and prosperity continue.’


    His words enveloped me in a sense of resignation. I began to recall the words of our schoolteacher, who once told us,


    ‘There are five paths of life in Desilta: the path of builders, the path of merchants, the path of warriors, the path of sages, and the final path—the path of servants.’


    I tried to steer the conversation away from these dark thoughts. I said,


    ‘Chris, I’m optimistic. My name is Luca, after the great leader Luca, and I have a strong will. My belief that my resolve will guide my path fills me with hope.’


    Even as I tried to appear confident, uncertainty swirled inside me.


    Chris shook his head with a faint smile and said,


    ‘Well then, I wish you luck, my friend. Let’s head to the square to get dressed for the celebration. Perhaps others will join you today as they face their own path of life.’


    His tone held a mix of encouragement and doubt, sending another wave of tension through me.


    ? ? ?


    We arrived at the celebration square, where I was presented with Desilta’s ceremonial attire for the occasion. A black cloak embroidered with silver threads and the “Life Bracelet”—a heavy silver piece—was placed around my wrist. Its weight reminded me of the gravity of this day that could determine my entire future.


    The square was crowded with people—families and young villagers gathered to witness the ceremony. The air buzzed with tension and anticipation, and I could feel everyone’s eyes following me. It only heightened my unease. I climbed onto the platform, where I met two other young people in identical ceremonial attire: a boy standing beside me and a girl with red hair dressed in the women’s version of the ceremonial outfit, black with shimmering silver embroidery. I tried to read their expressions, but they both seemed far calmer than I felt.


    The Master of Ceremonies stood at the centre of the platform, his glowing blue bracelet marking him as one of the sages. His face was serious and stern. The Master of Ceremonies shouted,


    ‘Today we celebrate these youths as they reach the age of twenty. Today, their path of life will be chosen. They will be bound to the great land of Desilta and will make sacrifices for its sake. Long live Desilta!’


    The crowd responded in unison,


    ‘Long live Desilta!’


    My heart pounded, and my anticipation grew.


    The young man beside me was called first. A girl standing next to the Master of ceremonies carried a tray holding three small vials. With every step the boy took towards the table, I felt the tension within me rise.


    The Master of ceremonies handed him one of the vials and instructed him to drink it. The boy took the vial, drank its contents, and then lay on the large table in the centre of the platform. I watched every movement, trying to prepare myself for what was about to happen to me.


    Moments later, the boy’s body began to rise slowly into the air. He looked as though he were in a deep sleep, but his features betrayed signs of intense worry, as if he were trapped in an endless nightmare. His body twitched and trembled, struggling against the invisible chains binding him. The sight was terrifying, and with each passing second, I felt an overwhelming dread creep deeper into me.


    Finally, his body descended slowly back into place, and he awoke. The Master of ceremonies ordered him to stand. The boy stepped off the table carefully as the Master called out once more,


    ‘Your Path of life has been chosen. Raise your hand and your bracelet for all to see.’


    The boy raised his hand, and I saw that the bracelet on his wrist had turned yellow. A mix of wonder and curiosity filled me as I wondered what colour mine would be.


    The Master of Ceremonies announced,


    ‘Your Path of life is that of a merchant. You are now bound to your bracelet—never remove it, for to do so will rip life itself from you. This is the ancient law of our land. Your life is tied to your bracelet, so let it guide you. Now, go to the leader of the merchants to receive his advice and guidance.’


    The boy left the platform with a satisfied expression, heading towards the merchants’ hall. I watched him leave, my thoughts tangled with envy and fear. Would I be as content with my chosen path as he seemed to be?


    Next, the Master turned to the girl beside me. She approached the table hesitantly, her eyes glimmering with both fear and anticipation. Her hands trembled as she gripped the vial, then drank the liquid just as the boy before her head. She lay down on the table, and her body, too, began to rise.


    Like the boy, her body convulsed, as though she were trapped in a terrible nightmare unfolding before all of us. I watched her intently, my anxiety growing as I realised my moment was drawing near.


    When she returned to the table, her face was pale, her eyes wide with shock, as though her entire life had been turned upside down. The Master ordered her to raise her hand, and all eyes turned to her bracelet, which had turned a deep purple. A chill ran through me, as though time itself had frozen. The crowd began to whisper, murmuring amongst themselves.


    The girl burst into tears—deep, wrenching sobs that shook her entire body. She cried like someone facing an inescapable fate, tears streaming down her cheeks as though she had lost something irreplaceable.


    The Master’s voice rang out coldly,


    ‘Your Path of life is that of the servants. You must dedicate yourself to this path and give it your all. Now go to the leader of the servants for his guidance and instruction.’


    His words felt harsh and unfeeling against the backdrop of her anguish. Yet, despite her despair, she obeyed, stumbling as she stepped off the platform, her tears revealing the depth of her sorrow. The scene was both painful and terrifying, and an even greater fear lodged itself in my chest as I thought about my impending fate.


    Then it was my turn. The Master of Ceremonies gestured for me to step forward. My heart thundered in my chest, and fear gripped me like a heavy hand holding me in place. I moved slowly, each step feeling harder than the last. My thoughts swirled, desperately trying to banish the fear of being chosen for any path other than that of the warriors.


    No matter how hard I tried to push those thoughts away, they clung to me stubbornly, reminding me of the possibilities I didn’t want to face.


    I tried to steady myself, convincing myself,


    ‘This is the day I’ve dreamed of all my life—the day I become a warrior.’


    But a small voice inside me planted seeds of doubt.


    The Master of ceremonies handed me the final vial. Despite my dry throat and the nausea swirling in my stomach, I drank it. The liquid was thick, and a wave of dizziness crashed over me as though the ground beneath me had begun to tilt. I struggled to stay upright, but my legs faltered, and black spots danced before my eyes.


    I stumbled back until I collided with the table, collapsing onto it like the others before me. The moment my back touched its surface, a sharp pain surged through my head—like a thousand arrows piercing me from within. The pain was unbearable; I nearly screamed from its intensity, a single thought echoing in my mind: Did everyone who came before me endure this torment?


    I tried to breathe deeply to calm myself, but the agony worsened with every breath. Then, in an instant, I felt a vast emptiness, losing all sense of time and place.


    ? ? ?


    I opened my eyes to find myself in a vast hall. Its walls were a deep, dark red, utterly devoid of any features. The air was stifling, and the unnatural silence weighed heavily on me, leaving me lost. I called out into the void,


    ‘Is anyone there?’


    There was no response. Only the echo of my own voice reverberated across the empty walls, intensifying my sense of isolation.


    Suddenly, the surroundings changed—the walls turned green. Nothing else appeared, but the abrupt transformation made my head spin. At the far end of the hall, a shadowy figure emerged, seated on a throne. Its features were unclear, but a deep voice resonated from the darkness:


    ‘Luca, your Path of Life has been chosen. You will not fall ill, nor will you age, so long as you remain true to your path and dedicate yourself to it. But remember, if you falter or betray your path, your bracelet will betray you, and the land of Desilta will cast you out. You will become mortal, age, and wither... builder.’


    His words struck me like a bolt of lightning. For a moment, I felt paralysed, then a voice of protest exploded from within me, shattering my world. I cried out in despair,


    ‘What? A builder? No… no… no!’


    But my cries vanished into the void. Only the silent walls heard me, reflecting my refusal back at me.


    The scream tore through me, filled with agony and crushing disappointment—as though all my hopes and dreams had been obliterated in a single instant.


    ? ? ?


    I awoke from that nightmare to find the Master of Ceremonies staring at me with an expression devoid of emotion—serious and unwavering. He motioned for me to rise and raise my hand to show the crowd my Life Bracelet, to reveal the truth. Fear gripped me as I lifted my hand slowly, terrified of what I might see.


    I whispered in disbelief,


    ‘My God… it’s green. My path has been chosen as a builder.’


    It felt as though my heart had stopped. The world around me dimmed into silence, and all I could see was the green light circling my wrist, announcing the end of my lifelong dream of becoming a warrior and the start of a reality I hadn’t chosen.


    The Master of Ceremonies proclaimed to the crowd,


    ‘Your Path of life has been chosen as that of a builder. Go to the leader of the builders to receive his guidance and instruction.’


    His words felt distant, muffled, as though spoken from a faraway place. I couldn’t fully comprehend them. I felt detached, watching myself from outside my own body as I descended the platform with heavy, numb steps. I didn’t know where I was going or what I would do. The world around me seemed unfamiliar, as though I were walking in a dream—or a nightmare.


    I was Luca who had lost himself. I was no longer Luca, the warrior. I had become Luca, the builder.


    A deep emptiness swallowed me, a wave of overwhelming sadness washing over me, as though something within me had shattered beyond repair. The dream I had lived for was gone, leaving a wound that ran deep in my heart. I tried to process what had happened, but my mind refused to accept this new reality.


    I wondered how I would face this life I hadn’t prepared for, how I would carry the weight of a future I hadn’t chosen. Each step I took felt heavier, as though my very soul had been burdened. My dream of freedom, of living a life of honour and battle, was gone—replaced by chains I hadn’t asked for, binding me to a life I could no longer escape.


    ? Faris S. J. 2024. All rights reserved.