Chapter 2: Grains of Sand
As Amaris stepped into the sunlight, the golden rays illuminated the bustling streets of Kebakaran. The air was thick with the scents of spices, fresh bread, and the unmistakable hint of smoke from the street vendors' fires. Her heart raced as she took in the sights around her, the vibrant tapestry of life unfolding before her. The kingdom sprawled in a riot of colors, from the ornate banners that hung above the market stalls to the lively garments worn by the townsfolk. Each day, the marketplace transformed into a stage for the mundane and the extraordinary, but today, Amaris felt like an outsider, watching from the periphery.
Kebakaran was a land of contrasts, where the opulence of the Royal Court clashed against the stark poverty of the outskirts. The capital, with its towering spires and gilded roofs, glimmered under the sun, a stark reminder of the power that ruled over the realm. Yet, beyond the castle walls lay districts where the shadows loomed longer, where desperate families scrounged for food, their eyes haunted by the weight of their struggles.
To the north, the jagged peaks of the Iron Mountains loomed, their snow-capped summits piercing the heavens. It was said that the spirits of the ancestors resided there, watching over the people of Kebakaran. The mountain folk revered their ancestors, offering prayers and sacrifices at the altars scattered throughout the rugged terrain.
To the south lay the lush, fertile fields of the Golden Plains, where crops swayed in the gentle breeze, promising abundance. The farmers toiled tirelessly under the sun, their lives bound to the land and the cycles of nature. They worshipped the Mother Earth, honoring her with festivals that celebrated the harvest. Amaris had once dreamed of running through those fields, free and unburdened, but those dreams felt as distant as the mountains now.
In the east, the thick, sprawling woods of the Whispering Forest stood, shrouded in mystery and legends. It was said that ancient spirits dwelled among the trees, guiding those who sought their wisdom. The people of the forest practiced a nature-based religion, believing in the balance between the seen and unseen worlds. They would gather under the full moon, chanting songs that echoed through the branches, their voices blending with the whispers of the wind.
To the west, the tumultuous shores of Falkar Bay met the open sea, its waves crashing against the cliffs like the heartbeat of the land. The fishermen cast their nets into the depths, hoping for a bountiful catch. They worshipped the Sea Goddess, believing her favor was crucial for their survival. Each night, the fishermen lit lanterns, sending them adrift on the waters, a signal of their devotion.
As Amaris walked through the marketplace, she felt the weight of these traditions bearing down on her. The people moved about, engrossed in their lives, their joys and sorrows intertwined. They were woven into the fabric of Kebakaran, while she remained an insignificant thread, a grain of sand on the vast beach of existence.
Suddenly, the laughter of children playing nearby shattered her thoughts. Their carefree joy contrasted sharply with the turmoil in her heart. She felt anger welling up inside her—anger at her situation, at the weight of expectations placed upon her, and at the foolishness of allowing herself to believe she could matter in a world so vast.
"Just a lowly servant girl," she muttered under her breath, her fists clenching at her sides. It was the truth, a harsh reality she could not escape. In the grand scheme of Kebakaran, her life held as much importance as the tiniest grain of sand slipping through the fingers of time. She had been orphaned at a young age, left to fend for herself in a world that viewed her as expendable.
The villagers' offerings to the king would not change that; they were merely a way to appease the darkness that threatened to engulf them. She was being sent to Quellin as if she were a mere trinket, a token of loyalty in a game of power she couldn't comprehend. Her anger flared anew, illuminating the darkness in her heart.
"Why should I be a pawn in their game?" she whispered fiercely, though the wind swallowed her words. "Why should my life be traded as if it held no value?"
As she navigated through the throngs of people, her mind raced with the implications of her impending fate. She recalled the faces of those who had come before her, the girls who had been sent to the king, and she felt the chill of despair creeping in. Each one had likely been just as terrified, yet they had been offered to a man cloaked in darkness and power.
With each step, Amaris found herself questioning the very foundation of her existence. She had fought so hard to retain her dignity, to carve out a semblance of a life amidst the chaos of the Golden Peacock, but now, all that effort felt like sand slipping away.
Why do I even care?" she thought bitterly. "What does it matter if I die tomorrow or live a hundred years in servitude?
The thought stung, igniting a fire within her. She had always believed in something more, a life beyond the shadows that loomed over her. Yet, reality was a harsh teacher, and as the market buzzed with life, Amaris felt the gulf between her dreams and her reality widening.
The clamor of the marketplace faded as she reached a quieter area, where the cobblestones gleamed with moisture from the morning dew. Here, the sunlight streamed through the gaps in the buildings, illuminating the path ahead. It was a moment of clarity in a world filled with confusion.
As she turned a corner, Amaris spotted a man waiting by a cart. He was gruff and imposing, his face weathered by the sun, and his eyes glinted with impatience. The cart itself was laden with gold, jewelry, and spices—the tithes of the townspeople meant for the king.
"There you are!" the man barked, his voice cutting through the sounds of the marketplace. "You're late! Get in the cart, now."
Amaris's heart sank. She approached the cart, hesitating as she glanced at the other occupants. Three girls, clearly of noble birth, sat huddled together, their expressions a mix of excitement and disdain. One blonde, one redheaded, and one with raven tresses. They wore silks and jewels, their hair adorned with intricate braids, radiating an air of superiority. They were the pinnacle of beauty.
"Look who decided to join us," one of them sneered, her voice dripping with condescension. "The lowly servant girl. I guess you'll have fun scrubbing the chamber pots while we become queens."
Another girl giggled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I doubt she even knows what a real life of luxury feels like. I pity you, really."
Amaris bit her tongue, fighting back the retorts that threatened to spill forth. Instead, she climbed into the cart, feeling the weight of their judgment pressing down on her. The other girls continued to chatter excitedly about the prospect of marrying the king, of having power and riches, their voices rising above the rattle of the cart wheels.
"Imagine the gowns I'll wear," one girl exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with dreams of grandeur. "I'll have servants waiting on me hand and foot."
"Let's hope we catch his eye before he gets bored," another chimed in, a hint of mischief in her tone.
Amaris sat in silence, her heart heavy. She could feel the disdain radiating from the girls, but it no longer stung as it once had. Their laughter echoed in her mind, mingling with her thoughts of anger and resentment. She was not a pawn in their game, and she refused to let their mockery define her worth.
As the cart jostled along the cobblestone path, she stared out at the scenery blurring past—market stalls, bakeries, and the golden fields stretching beyond the city. The thought of leaving it all behind filled her with a strange mix of fear and determination.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over Kebakaran, but all Amaris could feel was the chill of uncertainty creeping into her bones. The cart rattled onward, carrying her toward a fate she could not control, yet she resolved to face it with every ounce of strength she possessed.
"I am not just a grain of sand," she whispered to herself softly, her voice firm, even as the other girls chattered. "I am Amaris, and I will not let them decide my fate."
With renewed determination, she turned her gaze forward, the castle looming closer with each passing moment. The anger that had once threatened to consume her now fueled her resolve. She would face whatever came next with the strength of her convictions, even if it meant standing before a king shrouded in darkness.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone