The fire was set, and the crackles of it were making its own song. The girls were dancing around the fire, and some others were playing the instruments while Nënë was singing the old folk song. Jasin/JK was sitting on the bench which was about to crack down. There was a ghost of a tiny smile on his lips, hands tied in his lap. The night breeze was serene, causing shivers to run down his spine.
They were welcoming the spring, thanking spirits who gave them the rain, the harvest, and so more. Praying for them to guide the Earthers to live a respectful life.
Jasin/JK wanted to be there with the girls, dancing throughout the night and praying to the gods and goddesses for a good life. Alas, he was sitting alone at the back, far away from the crowd. However, the bad omen he read this morning was causing nausea in his stomach and making it hard for him to move around. He remembered how he begged his Nënë this morning to uphold the ritual for the time being and only received a harsh rejection.
“I cannot tell our people to wait no more, Jasin/JK,” she said with a stern voice. “And I cannot explain the reason to them. That you are receiving oracles. Let us proceed with the ritual, child.”
So he did exactly what his great-grandmother asked and sat back. Holding his hand over his chest, silently praying for the gods to give them strength. For the children on earth, for the greater good.
However, the gods had different plans.
An ear-scratching scream came from deep in the forest. Jasin/JK flinched in his seat; getting up on his feet, he started to run towards the crowd.
“Stop,” he shouted. “Immediately, stop and escape! Run!”
Everybody in the close vicinity turned toward him. They reacted as if he was mocking them; making fun of his expression that was full of fear they continued their joy for the night. He tried, tried, and tried; tirelessly. But it was all futile.
There were only a few steps between his Nënë and him but everything came to an end when her body staggered forward because of the push she got behind. Jasin/JK watched it happening; his Nënë slowly falling on her knees and the blood staining the top of her white dress. Her hands were reaching out to Jasin/JK to hold them.
“Run, child,” she murmured between breaths, blood coming out of her mouth. “Save yourself and our legacy.”
Jasin/JK was the only man witch in the family and he was the strongest one among many others.
(...)
JK wakes up from a dream where everybody calls him Jasin with a pain in his chest that is hard to describe. He is having a hard time breathing and needs his asthma inhaler but there is no chance of finding it when he doesn't even know where he is. It is dark, and there is a sound coming from his left; it reminds him of a droplet sound. He tries to search for his memories from the past hours to understand what happened.
It is all blank, like space. His memory is blurry.
“So, you decided to wake up.”
JK’s blood runs cold and he becomes like a statue, completely frozen. He gulps nervously and waits for his eyes to get used to the environment he is in.
“Don’t try to do anything stupid if you value your life.”
The voice is low and velvety but a little bit on the ragged side. It causes the goosebumps to stand on his skin. JK feels threatened and imposed.
“You know who I am, right?”
(...)
Jasin/JK was running barefoot. All the pebbles and pieces of bushes were cutting his skin but the adrenaline that was flowing in his veins was keeping him focused on the task of escaping. He was hearing the screams, shouts, and fighting sounds from behind, and with every step he took, he was praying for power.
The back of his right shoulder was engulfed with burning pain as an arrow cut through his shirt and stabbed into his skin. He lost his balance with the force of the arrow as his body slowly fell on the soil and the sound of a galloping horse followed closely.
Grunting with pain, he leaned his forehead on the ground and closed his eyes, waiting for the correct time to make a hell from the very place he was in. Praying, praying, and praying till no end.
“You know what I am looking for, right, witch?"
The voice was deep and ragged but it came to Jasin/JK’s ears like a smooth velvet, tickling the inside of his mind.
“Get up and turn around.”
He did as he’d been told. However, the outcome wasn’t something he anticipated to see. The man on the horse was hiding his face from the eyes down with a piece of cloth. As much as Jasin/JK could make it out, he was tall and had a straight posture. He didn’t seem like any other normal mercenaries; even the sica (sword) on his belt was expensive.
“Such a shame,” the man said with a click of his tongue. “You would sell well at brothels but instead, you will be the one who’s paying the debt of my family’s death.”
While his nails forced the skin in his palm to be cut into two, Jasin/JK smirked. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
The frown on the man’s face was visible when a strong breeze pushed the cloth out of his face. Jasin/JK carved the face of the man in his mind. He had distinctive eyes that looked imposing a great deal of anger and plump lips where a scar made its home on the left side. His tanned skin glowed under the full moon.
Jasin/JK sacrificed his blood right before vanishing into the air but couldn’t escape from the new arrow that reached his chest.
/
Or, a Namkookau where JK’s and NJ’s past lives already met and died in their hands. They were great enemies as JK’s tribe was full of witches and people from the bloodline of the witches, and NJ was a captain of a mercenary. NJ, in the present, remembers only a part of his past life where his family got killed by some witches, and he only sees JK’s face. So he obsesses over it for quite some time. Funnily enough, NJ runs a gang in the undergrounds of Sicilia and JK is a history student.