In Flames

Flames.

They were everywhere. Every building, every tree, every inch of the village he was born in, all up in flames. They boy remained on his rear end and brought his knees close to his chest, burying his head behind his legs and willing the flames to not reach him.

The flames that had already reached all he had left.

His mother always told him that crying was a sign of weakness; that men are not to show their vulnerability to anyone. It was an invitation to push you around, to humiliate you. The shedding of tears meant that humans did not understand what to do with their hearts.

But did it matter now? When everything was burning down around him…

What was there to lose? His mother? His infant brother? His father was dead for all he knew.

There was nothing to lose. Nothing at all.

So he cried.

He didn't know how long he had stayed in the same position – probably the time it took for the obelisk's shadow to make one oscillation. The heat had died down around him, pins and needles had attacked his limbs countless times, but he didn't move.

It was when he felt the rays of Ra did he finally lift his head, and let the warmth embrace his face. He had run out of tears long ago. There weren't any to be dried.

"I wasn't aware there were other survivors," a voice, resigned and tired, drifted from somewhere behind him.

The boy started and turned his head slowly to regard the speaker. "Mahaad."

Mahaad nodded. "Set."

Set stood up so that he can look Mahaad in the eye proper, but having been born in the winter before Set was, Mahaad still stood a head taller. That spark of hope that he thought had died with the flames was ignited once more.

Set's ears caught a sniff, and it was then he noticed the young child – no older than four – cowering behind the older boy.

"This is Mana," Mahaad said, placing a protective hand on the toddler's head. "I found her hiding in a pot. She's the only one I've found… other than you, of course."

The girl was in a tattered linen tunic that seemed too large on her tiny body, her brown hair slightly singed. Mahaad didn't seem better off himself, if the burns on his right arm and leg were any indication. A piece of cloth was wrapped loosely around his waist.

"How did you survive?" Set asked.

"… I do not know myself," Mahaad averted his eyes, looking off to the side. "The fire surged towards me, and I placed my hand out, and I closed my eyes to be delivered to Osiris… but the flames then went away."

"The flames… went away…" Set repeated. His eyes grew wide. "Did you perform… magic, Mahaad?"

"I… that's impossible! A mere peasant, like me?"

"How do you explain what happened, then? Why was your life spared?" Set moved two steps closer. "The gods must have a role for you."

"It can't be," Mahaad shook his head vehemently. "The gods do not regard the lowest of the low."

"Things don't happen without a purpose!" Set snapped. Mana squeaked and further hid herself behind her saviour. "Your magic could be valued by the high priests in the palace. You could serve the pharaoh!"

"… I'm not as ambitious as you, Set," with a sigh, Mahaad picked up the girl by his side and let Mana burrow her head into his shoulder. "All I hope for now is to keep on living."

Set huffed. He wasn't exactly close to Mahaad, although they had some interaction when they joined the other boys in their games. It did not take a veteran eye to analyse Mahaad's character. He would take the games more seriously than the others, and was never a sore loser. When his mother called for him to return to the house, he complied without complaint. To Set, Mahaad seemed a very boring person.

"… Like it or not, 'keep on living' is a pretty vague plan," Set finally said as a breeze picked up, sending up clouds of sand and dust. "We should head to Thebes, regardless. It's the capital – surely there will be jobs for us. We can work odd jobs for food and shelter. Surely they won't turn away orphans like us?"

The older boy agreed with him after some consideration, seeing his logic. "There should be some rations left around here. We can gather them for the journey ahead."

"Then we'll meet back here when Ra is directly overhead."

Between the two of them, they had been able to salvage some pomegranates, radishes, and a half-full jar of honey. Mana contributed two figs. All these were dumped in a makeshift rucksack that Mahaad shouldered. Mana was handed over to Set; the girl herself was initially reluctant to hold his hand, but she couldn't very well trouble Mahaad any further.

Set had nicked a dagger from one of the cottages and hid it under his clothes. The desert was harsh and dangerous, the bandits skulking its corners even more so. It would do to arm oneself, even if one had never had experience in wielding any kind of weapon.

"May the gods be with us," Mahaad whispered. The two boys regarded each other, and it was then they realised the many similarities between them.

Both have lost their hometown. Both have lost ones they held dear. Their futures remained blank slabs of stone, unsure and uncertain the longer they dawdled in a broken place that they could not call their own anymore. Set nodded, and they made their way out of the village.

Set paused on top of a dune and gave his once-hometown a final glance. He cast his thoughts back to the girl with the long white hair he saw before the White Dragon appeared. The creature that had gave him another chance to live. "One day, I'll meet that dragon again…" he murmured. "And I will repay my debt." Mana glanced up at him with a quizzical expression and tugged at his hand.

"Did you say something, Set?" Mahaad called. He had gained some distance ahead.

"Not at all."

Ra shone brightly above them, a beacon to their destinies.