章節 17: The sanctuary (16)

William's POV: Beginning of the fourth Sanctuary Trial

Generally speaking, people become aware of their existence by the age of 7. Of course, this varies from person to person, but also according to the environment in which they grew up.

"Tashi! Come and play with us!" shouted a child a little older than me, inviting me to join him.

Tashi is the name my parents gave me. I was 5 at the time, and used to playing with my elders.

The reason I remember so vividly, despite being so young, is that an unforeseen event changed my life forever.

"Tashi, can you hear me? We're going to start without you!" the child's voice called to me once again.

However, I stood still, absorbed in contemplating the sky, watching a plane fly by. There was nothing unusual about that where we lived; adults and children alike ignored them most of the time.

This plane, however, was different.

"It's too close..."

Suddenly, something detached itself from the plane, falling at breakneck speed, before landing on a group of people and exploding.

The explosion was so violent that the shockwave propelled me through the air, leaving me unconscious.

When I woke up, I was on my father's back, walking beside my mother, lost in the middle of nowhere.

"Honey, are you awake?" said my mother, tears in her eyes.

"Are you okay, son?" asked my father, clearly worried.

"Yes," I replied, shaking my head, trying to reassure them.

Looking up, I saw other people walking in the same direction as us. Some were injured, others had lost part of their bodies.

"Mom, what's going on? Why are these people hurt? And where are we going?"

I bombarded my mother with questions, but she gently put a finger to my lips.

"I know you have a lot of questions right now, but save your strength for later," she said with a sad smile. "In a nutshell, we're going where the sun sets."

"In the west?"

"Exactly! There, there are people who will be able to help us. So be patient, okay?"

"Yes..."

At the time, I didn't really understand where we were going. What was certain was that I would never be able to return home.

Our little group continued walking for weeks, without stopping. As we advanced, I saw people giving up, unable to keep up.

The first to fall were the elderly, then those affected by the explosion, and finally others, swept away by diseases unknown to me.

My comrades, my friends, my elders, all fell, one by one, without my being able to do anything.

"Don't look away, son," said my father in a firm voice.

"What are you telling Tashi?" interjected my mother, fearing her words would frighten me further.

"Sorry, darling," my father apologized before continuing, "but Tashi has to grow up mentally, and fast, if he wants to survive in this cruel world."

"But..."

"Believe me, it's the best thing we can do for him right now."

After a long thought, my mother reluctantly agreed.

"Son, are you listening to me?" my father repeated, this time with an intensity I'd never heard before.

"Yes, I'm listening," I murmured, my throat tightening.

My father paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. Then he placed a heavy but comforting hand on my shoulder, forcing me to maintain eye contact.

"In that case,"

he began in a deep voice, "listen carefully. What I'm about to tell you isn't easy, but it's essential. If you want to cry, do it. Crying doesn't make you weak, it releases the weight that's weighing you down. If you want to scream, scream! There's no shame in expressing anger or fear. We're human, after all, and this world you see around you is cruel. But..."

He paused, his gaze hardening.

"If you want to survive, you'll have to be willing to do things you never thought possible. If you have to lose your dignity, do it. Sometimes, in this world, your pride is a burden you'll have to leave behind. If you want to give up... do it, but know that every surrender is a part of you that disappears. And finally..."

He hesitated for a moment, weighing his every word.

"If you have to kill... do it. To protect your own life, sometimes there will be no other choice. And that will be the most difficult time. But always remember one thing, Tashi," he added, squeezing my shoulder a little tighter.

"All of this... everything I'm telling you here... has one and only one purpose: to survive."

These last words echoed through me like a never-ending chorus. The idea of killing, of giving up my dignity, of doing everything he described, terrified me. At five years old, I'd never thought of death in that way.

I didn't yet fully understand what he was trying to teach me, but I could feel, deep down, that the world had just changed, and that I would have to change with it to survive.

My mother, who had been listening in silence, came over and put a hand on my father's arm.

"He's still so young," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "He shouldn't have to carry such a heavy burden."

My father looked at her, his face filled with compassion, but he didn't give in. "I know that, darling... but this world leaves us no choice. Better that it be prepared, rather than see it broken by trials it wasn't ready for."

I remained silent, watching my parents exchange these words full of pain and truth. I could only feel a growing heaviness in my chest.

My father spoke again, this time more softly, almost like fatherly advice.

"Tashi, I'm not asking you to be an adult right now. But I am asking you to stay strong, no matter what. We'll be there for you, your mother and me, but the road is long, and one day you may be alone. On that day, remember what I told you today."

I nodded, sensing the magnitude of his request. I didn't know if I was ready for what the future held, but one thing was certain: from that moment on, I understood that survival required more than just staying alive. It was an inner struggle, a fight against fear, pain and, above all, against the loss of oneself.

My mother, still moved, crouched down in front of me, gently wiping a tear from my cheek.

"You're not alone, Tashi," she said in a soothing voice. "We're here with you, every step you take, we'll take together."

I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded once more.

…

As the days passed, our life-sustaining supplies dwindled. With each passing day, our rations grew smaller, our bodies weaker, and our hopes dwindled.

But one morning, as fatigue weighed on our every step, a city appeared on the horizon.

The news of this vision rekindled in us a little energy, a spark of hope. Perhaps we could find food, shelter and a moment's respite.

The faces around me changed at the thought. Adults and children alike began to walk faster, as if the mere sight of a distant city would appease their hunger.

Soon, we were at the city gates. Hope swelled in our hearts at the prospect of rescue, food and comfort.

But as soon as we approached and began to beg, humbly asking for a little bread or water, reality hit us with unexpected violence.

Instead of the compassion we'd hoped for, it was stones raining down on us, cries of anger and contempt echoing through the air.

"Go away! Don't ever come back!" shouted some citizens as they hurled their projectiles.

Confused and frightened, we backed away, our hearts breaking yet again. This was repeated in neighboring towns, each hope of help turning into brutal rejection.

"Mom, why are people hunting us? We haven't done anything wrong!" I asked, tears welling up in my eyes, unable to understand such cruelty.

My mother, who seemed as saddened as I, looked at me with tenderness, but a deep sadness marked her face.

"Oh Luca, they have the right to live too," she replied softly.

"But what's wrong with asking for a little food?" I insisted, unable to conceive that our simple request could provoke such hatred.

My mother gently shook her head, a sign that I didn't yet understand the situation in all its complexity. She looked at me for a moment before pointing at one of the citizens.

"Look carefully at this person, and compare him with one of the men in our group."

Obediently, I scanned the man my mother was pointing at, then observed one of our own.

"The citizen wears fine clothes, while our gentleman wears worn-out clothes"

My mother nodded, but there was something more, something I hadn't yet perceived.

"Are you sure there's nothing else to add?" she asked me patiently.

I was about to answer no, but something caught my eye. The citizen I was watching was thin, extremely thin. His eyes were hollow, his body trembled slightly.

It wasn't just poverty that marked his features, but deep physical distress. He looked hungry.

When reality finally hit me, I understood what my mother was trying to show me. She smiled softly, but I could see the sadness lurking behind her tired eyes.

"You see, Tashi, these people have also been going through a food crisis for a while. Look at their faces, their bodies. They're as hungry as we are. They're hunting us because they fear for their own survival."

I remained silent, absorbing the bitter reality of her words.

"So... we're the ones doing the harm?" I asked, a weight crushing my heart. I had never wanted to harm anyone, but this situation now seemed far more complex.

My mother leaned over and hugged me. Her embrace was warm, reassuring, but I could feel her shoulders trembling slightly.

"Tashi..." she murmured, her voice soft and broken. "In this kind of situation, the concept of right and wrong doesn't really exist anymore. All that matters is surviving. This world... is cruel, much more than you can imagine."

She squeezed me even tighter, her voice breaking under the weight of emotion.

"As your father said... this world is cruel. Therefore, promise me, Tashi, to survive by any means possible. No matter what happens, keep on living. Will you promise me that?"

Her desperation pierced my young thoughts. I didn't yet understand all the nuances of what it meant to survive in such a world, but I could see how much my mother cared about me, about our family, about our shared survival. Even if I didn't understand everything, I knew I didn't want to disappoint her.

"Yes, I promise," I finally said, my voice full of determination.

At the time, I didn't understand that this trip wasn't just about distance, but a real test for our souls and our humanity.