《Indra of the Accursed Blood》


 Let the Gods decide

    Her silver hair fluttered by the gentle Wind as the wavering water danced inside the jar. She fondled her hands around it, kept it immobile at the top of her head, walked around the dried and dead leaves scattered through the Autumn village.


    The scorching hot Sun blazed through her weary eyes. She closed her eyelids for a moment, a numbness of mind and a flash of blind pain wrapping her smooth forehead and puncturing holes in her brains.


    Just a quick rest, she needed a break. It was a very hot day, more than usual. Indeed, not even the elders, with their tough skins and roughed attitudes that fumed with the ravages of war, could bear the wrath of Sun. He wasn¡¯t kind to her people, and they were thankful for that.


    The strong are born from harshly wounded wombs. Weakness was not to be forgiven.


    Her eyelids slowly rose as she steeled her resolve to move on. A fierce crooked smile traced her lips, it was indeed a blessing. Pain and suffering ¨C seeds to be planted in the human body.


    Blood would nurture their roots, growing healthy, bearing magnificent flowers, fruits coming with the age.


    But that day, it was hot, so very hot. Temperature was high enough to dry her flesh, to melt her skin, to voraciously lick the bones of her soon-to-be fallen body, leaving behind nothing but a pile of chalk.


    She never felt like that before, it was nauseating, suffocating. Her lungs were failing her.


    Her mother¡¯s steps hammered her ears while she moved forwards, only forwards, never backing down a step. Tears could not flow down her eyes as she was taught not to cry in any situation. It would be a waste of liquid.


    Sun kept her feet shackled to iron balls, her back crushed by a stone block. She stumbled, falling to the ground like a rock left to free fall. That second was divided infinitely in time, feeling like an eternity, falling to a rabbit¡¯s hole, chasing after a turtle.


    The jar broke into multiple pieces, water spattering the ground. The mother turned to face her.


    ¡°Look at what you¡¯ve done¡­ You know we can¡¯t afford to waste water.¡± She said, eyes as cold as iron staring at the girl¡¯s fragile body.


    ¡°Get up¡± she commanded, but the girl would not listen.


    ¡°Get up¡± again she marshaled, to no avail.


    Laying her own jar carefully on the barren sands, down on her knees, she touched the girl, tried to drag her upwards.


    The skin was in pure heat, like volcanic ashes, steam reeking from the covering red rashes.


    ¡°Tss¡­ Child¡­ Help! Indra will die!¡± she screamed in confusion.


    Every person struck by these symptoms would not live for the day after, a sudden death with no meaning behind it.


    Sun¡¯s curse, the reaper of strong men, it was the first time it happened with a woman. Not just any woman, the last child of her stringing bloodline. The lineage would offer company as worms feasted on her rotten corpse.


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    The girl must live.


    The mother begged and cried for help, the aide of those proud and tactless men of the curved blade, the war dogs. Only one young lad came to offer assistance.


    ¡°She will certainly die. Let¡¯s take her to the elder, give her the last rites.¡± He said tragically, no man survived so why would Sun spare the girl?


    ¡°No¡­ She can¡¯t... My poor girl¡­¡±


    ¡°Come¡­ Before our hands can¡¯t hold these scars¡±.


    They held the girl in clothes and traversed quickly through the empty village, in no time reaching for the elder¡¯s hut. It was a dark, moist place, filled with stumbling scents and the arousing smell of herbs.


    He was bald and tanned, back scarred and wrinkled face with deep black eyes. His body was uttered with dirt, his long beard engrossed by filth, the elder sat on a mat of wood beads, legs crossed, meditating.


    The girl was dropped before him, he opened his eyes in thought.


    ¡°Elder¡­ Give her a few words before she is no more¡­¡±


    The old man threw an uninterested look at Indra. Her temperature was going down, body becoming stable.


    ¡°She won¡¯t die¡±


    The mother let herself calm down, pacing her uneven breathing and caressing the child¡¯s silver hair. She was safe, she wouldn¡¯t die ¨C so said the elder, and his words were absolute.


    The girl would live, yet why were his eyes so keen and inquisitive?


    He glanced at the man that accompanied them, asking him for a time with the mother, and he vanished out of the room.


    ¡°She won¡¯t properly live either¡±


    ¡°Elder¡­ What is it you mean?¡± she asked defensively. Did he fill her with hope only to steal it away?


    The old man lifted his neck, planting his eyes on the rooftop.


    ¡°Dendra, you should have noticed as well. Your bloodline is poisoned and not by any poison. It¡¯s both a blessing and a curse, a double-edged sword crafted by the most powerful being on the universe¡±


    ¡°No¡­ It can¡¯t be¡­ The hateful bloodline¡­ She chose us¡­ Why?¡±


    ¡°Mere mortals can¡¯t grasp her intentions. Only a God can understand another God¡±.


    ¡°Impossible¡­ We can¡¯t let that happen¡­ Just like the old sayings and chants pointed, the hateful blood must be purged!¡±


    ¡°¡­ We won¡¯t step in on the matter of Gods, we won¡¯t invoke their wrath¡±


    ¡°Then¡­ What do we do? What can we do?¡±


    ¡°¡­ I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s nothing to do. Take your daughter away from all the villages and leave her to her fate.


    Let the Gods decide¡±.

 Farewell, my family

    They took Indra to the uncharted lands governed by Ocean, the keeper of secrets and protector of the unknown. Unlike the burning sands of the roaring Sun, her sky was blue like the sea waves, her earth was rich and bore luscious fruits, her rain was generous and plump of life.


    It was the land of the devourers, the heartseekers, loathsome creatures that feasted upon human flesh. As children of Ocean, they savored her inebriating love and warm caresses, partaking on her taste for the forbidden fruit of death, that which could only be tasted by the primal Gods.


    The ever brimming isle of no name, from whose extending claws could no one escape.


    Indra was shipped on a lone boat; by tradition, her mother and father on the rowers. Sun was no more dazzling and violent, for his rules reigned far away, on the desert.


    The lush greeneries of the high forest and moisture of the mossy swamps drew a cool breeze, signaling their arrival.


    She was dropped on the slushy earth as the scornful gazes of her parents whipped her corrupt body. It would be the last time they would see her.


    They held no hatred for their daughter, but felt disgust for the blood running on her veins¨C the blood running on the family¡¯s vessels. The poor girl was not to blame.


    The fault was on them.


    ¡°Indra, my daughter, we have nothing but shame to show in front of you¡± sobbed the weeping mother, hoping Sun would forgive her for the sin of crying.


    ¡°To bear this cursed blood and spread it to my children like a disease, an infection¡­ I am a disgrace to my people, to my valiant brethren a disgrace i am! Indra¡­ This is our farewell, and though i wished to muster the strength of a beast, i can¡¯t look into your eyes as we part¡±


    ¡°F-father¡­What is it Sun teaches us?¡± she inquired, a coughing low voice.


    ¡°In my world live the strong, they prey on the weak. But the strong, too, perish, and return to me¡± he chanted.


    The mother¡¯s tears stopped cascading through her cheeks. They wouldn¡¯t come back to Sun, his hands could not reach them, not like that.


    ¡°Indra¡­ We must put an end to this nightmare, and there is only one way out¡±


    ¡°Mother¡­¡±


    ¡°When we return to Autumn village, we will forsake our lives over the sacred fire of the pyre. Your brothers and sisters will fight each other to the death in an attempt to appease Sun, who¡¯s watching us above the clouds.


    The last one standing must kill himself, spilling the last of our rotten blood¡±.


    ¡°Don¡¯t¡­Don¡¯t¡­¡± cried Indra, who could barely move without being struck by pain.


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    ¡°Indra, for our sacrifice to be noticed, you should also cease from living. Tomorrow, when Sun is at his highest, bleed yourself to the ground with this. It will be the end of the hateful bloodline¡± finished the father, spreading her hands and securing the knife on her five fingers.


    ¡°Father¡­ Don¡¯t do this¡­¡±


    They stood up and pushed the boat in the water, saying their last words before disappearing into the fog.


    ¡°Don¡¯t disappoint us, Indra.¡±


    ¡°Our lovely daughter, hear your father¡¯s words. Don¡¯t let our deaths be in vain¡±.


    Indra wanted to cry just like her mother did, moments before, but it was useless. Crying was the advent of the mind¡¯s weakness.


    Weren¡¯t they supposed to fight? To battle? To gamble with destiny for a chance of surviving?Why was it they were giving up? She didn¡¯t understand any of it. What was the blood they so much spoke of?


    As her skin shone by the small sparkles of light diluting the thick mist, like a dying star, these doubts sprouted in her head.


    It wasn¡¯t an answer she was looking for, neither a hope to attach herself to, because if dying was the only way out, she would gladly hold the knife at her throat and go down like a proud, ferocious tiger.


    She wanted a reason to move on, to feel her death wouldn¡¯t be useless and her life kept ameaning.


    Indra couldn¡¯t afford to die, not like an animal abandoned in the wild, a discarded object.


    Her muscles relaxed slowly, allowing her control over her body. She tightened the knife on her hand and clenched her teeth with a scathing headache destroying her consciousness.


    Her vision was blurred and short-sighted, although she wouldn¡¯t be able to see in the fog even if it was perfect.


    She dragged herself one step at a time. Even that weak light punished her flesh with the pain of a thousand needles skewing her every angle.


    Indra endured the pain, tolerating hunger and thirstiness, bit the knife to free her hands and crawled like a worm with her face dug in mud, clothes dyed brown and hair tastelessly honeyed.


    She spotted a small puddle of dirty water and crammed her head inside it, slurping the rancid liquid as a dog licking its own wounds. It tasted worse than she imagined, but kindness was not to be expected even from nature itself. Her stomach filled,she kept crawling by the bog.


    The first hurdle, finding a safe haven for the night.

 Unending rain

    Sprawled on the ground, dulled senses, Indra clawed her way through the soft soil with unyielding tenacity, her gnashing teeth pressing harder and harder against the metal. She had no clue for the destination, but idling by would not end that suffering.


    Burly trees stretched to the skies, farther than human eyes could see, spiky bushes of purple black leaves standing by the wet, itchy moss. The song of flowing and splashing water ran on the white background, birds chirping and the noises of a cicada accompanying the dull symphony.


    Every now and then, there would be rain. It was short and frequent, making it much difficult for her to sink her nails in the terrain. She vaguely remembered her childhood, when she climbed mountains at winter¡¯s end for the Rites of Passage.


    At least that time she felt like her efforts to scrape by pointy rocks were significant.


    Suddenly, a fragrant smell invaded her nostrils, just like the incenses of the village¡¯s elder, which healed her insides and strengthened her tissues with a sniff. That one burned her lungs with exhaustion.


    ¡°Ghh¡­Reat¡­Tssss¡± she moaned tortuously, biting the iron stuck in her mouth, chewing it like a juicy meat, blood spitting from her mashed gums.


    As her heartbeats drooped with the piercing rain, ears washed of any sound, that sweet, delicate perfume was the only thing left unbound. It didn¡¯t seem to come from any direction, as if it didn¡¯t exist. In that messed up state, she couldn¡¯t tell.


    Nonetheless, she kept moving on,  without stopping for a quick breather or to watch for her surroundings.


    Her poor line of sight grasped an egg-shaped darkness narrowing the path upfront. She was a rattling snake, sneaking around with her crackling weak bones, choking amidst the thin arms, trying to touch the darkness.


    A giant spider leg.


    The feeling of danger sprinted her skin, she backed off and uselessly distanced herself from the beast, mind sharpened and exploding heart. The survival instinct of Sun¡¯s people was a truly hideous aspect of their lives, keeping them alive, hurrying them to the depths of madness.


    She spoke not a single word at that sight, the animal inside taking over her brain and controlling every action done afterwards. Her pupils widened and her skin paled with adrenaline, blood finally pumping wildly inside her veins and giving her strength to stand up, awaking her inner demons.


    But she didn¡¯t stand up.


    For minutes she waited without batting an eye. Every movement could be her death, or her salvation. For now it was only stress and sweat licking her forehead.


    When water fell for the third time since the apparition, an impactful sound cracked upon the leg and destroyed part of its flesh. It had bulk, was hairy and appeared to be covered by a strong carapace. But it didn¡¯t move either.


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    For a spark moment, the fog cleared out and she was able to see the beast. It had at least six times her height and was of much greater magnitude. But it was no threat. Indra noticed the small, strained head.


    Dead.


    The spider¡¯s body curled up in front of a mountain full of holes. Didn¡¯t seem like a place to lay eggs on, spiders that size would never fit in. Indra wasn¡¯t fearful of whatever could hatch, if it was. Not in this state.


    The only danger lied in the first night. She desperately needed a rest, even more, a meal. Thirst was not a problem, but the lack of nutrients would slowly shut her personality. That¡¯s when Sun completely takes over his child¡¯s body and destroys it, for no vessel can incarnate a living god. She wasn''t, however, under Sun''s jurisdiction, and thus had no knowledge of her end.


    Indra glanced at the spider¡¯s exposed flesh. It was festering quickly due to the climate and constant hammering of the raindrops. Would vanish in less than a week, the husk would stay. Meanwhile, the sticky blood became more fluid duo to the water.


    Looked really bad, but was meat.


    She loosened the blade, stood on her feet and painfully dragged her legs near it, falling multiple times as the weight of the rain pushed her down. Indra stuck her head in the wound and tore fangs into the flesh, strong backbone holding her carnivorous stance.


    She dropped her head not to swallow it, mulling it over with her tongue. Not much after, she spat it off, both out of disgust and because of the unknown poison hiding within it.


    The carapace was not slippery from the rain, but Indra needed to wait it, so she could climb it with no hassle. Years of experience would certainly help her accomplish the feat, but it was grim determination that made her stick to a task so arduous.


    Biting the knife, vampiric gaze befitting of her bloody mouth, she invoked ungodly force to pass the trial, much more than her overstrained body could hold.


    A lion uses all of his strength, even to catch a rabbit. A human destroys himself, so long there is a small remaining piece he can call life.


    During that whole time, she ceased from thinking, all kinds of reasoning have been scrapped. What passed through her were sensations. Her head was a mixture of smells, colors, forms, noises, tastes, feelings, all very similar but distinguishable from one another.


    A sweet vision of impeding darkness, dominant amongst all others, invited her inside the mountain.


    She collapsed.