116 - The Absence of Something Important

  In the days that followed, Nexha began to notice subtle changes around him. It wasn’t something obvious, but small things accumulated like an invisible weight on his shoulders. The silence that hung in certain moments, the averted gazes when he entered a group conversation, the hesitant responses when he mentioned the opposition. Like footprints erased in the sand, it was as if something had been swept under the rug, and he was the only one who didn’t know what it was.

  Whispers would abruptly cease when he approached, and even those who were always the most talkative now seemed to measure every word in his presence. Small gestures made him uneasy—a fleeting glance, a tense smile, a sudden change of subject. It was as if everyone knew a secret he had yet to discover, and this involuntary exclusion only made his mind spin in search of answers. The suspicion began to take root within him, growing like a thorn beneath the skin.

  Jasper was the first to voice a more direct doubt. During dinner, while chewing on a piece of fish with his small fangs showing, he furrowed his brow and looked at Nexha.

  — Did those… annoying ones… run away? — he asked, clumsily swaying his tail as if he were still trying to formulate the question properly.

  Nexha paused for a moment, blinking.

  — What annoying ones? — he tried to feign ignorance, but a discomfort crawled up his chest. He already knew whom Jasper was talking about.

  Jasper blinked his large, curious eyes, his snout slightly wrinkled as he searched for the right words.

  — Daddy… got so mad… will they… come back? — The question was innocent, laden with that childlike purity that made him seem so small, yet at the same time, carried a crushing weight. Nexha shifted his gaze to Krahs, who continued eating without any sign of interruption, as if the conversation didn’t exist.

  The silence that followed was thick. Nexha wanted to ignore it. He wanted to believe it was just a coincidence, that Jasper was merely repeating what he had heard without understanding its meaning. But as the days passed, Nexha realized that the village was different. There were fewer murmurs about the protests, fewer complaints, fewer… opponents. Where were those who once shouted that fire was dangerous? Where were those who spat insults at him? They had simply vanished.

  Seeking answers, Nexha searched for Nalu and Helen. He found Helen near the makeshift market, a space that had gradually grown since he started encouraging trade among the villagers. Before, resources were shared in a disorganized manner, but now there were bamboo stalls where rare shells were traded for algae, tools for dried fish, and even small inventions were beginning to emerge. Helen was there, organizing some woven bamboo mats with the precision of someone who knew them well. He approached her without hesitation.

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  — Helen — he called, and she looked up at him.

  — Yes?

  He hesitated for a moment. Where should he start?

  — Have you noticed that… some people have disappeared? — he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

  Helen paused for a moment. Her gaze was sharp but also carried a certain pity, as if she had known this question would come sooner or later. She sighed, returning to handling the herbs.

  — I have — she replied simply.

  — What happened to them? — he insisted.

  She took a while to respond. Then, without looking directly at him, she said:

  — Some people reap what they sow, Nexha. And some seeds should never have been planted… Nalu might explain it better. She’s at the nest, tending to the eggs.

  The answer didn’t satisfy him. He felt his heart beat faster. Helen seemed unwilling to tell him everything, but now it was clear she was weighing each word with extreme care. Nexha bit his tongue, feeling frustration grow inside him. He sighed and went after Nalu.

  He found her weaving bamboo at the old nest while also watching over her eggs with patience. Her presence was comforting to him, but at that moment, Nexha couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in his chest.

  — Nalu — he called.

  She looked at him and smiled, but her eyes carefully analyzed him.

  — What is it, Nexha? You look strange. Did someone say something wrong to you again?

  Nexha approached and lay down on the sand of the nest.

  — No, I just wanted to know what happened to those who spoke against us before… — His voice was firm, more than he expected. — And I don’t want vague answers like everyone else is giving me.

  Nalu didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on his, assessing his determination. Then she sighed, shifting her eyes to her eggs.

  — Do you really want to know? I know you’re not used to many of our customs, so it won’t be comfortable for you, not now, Nexha.

  His heart pounded. He swallowed hard but nodded.

  — Yes. I want to know.

  Nalu was silent for a while, then spoke, her voice as low as the night tide:

  — Krahs doesn’t forgive betrayal, Nexha. Nor those who put his family at risk.

  Reality crashed over him like a cold wave. Nexha didn’t need further explanations. He understood.

  A shiver ran down his spine, as if the world around him had suddenly become smaller, darker. He had always known Krahs was a strong leader, but he had never stopped to think about how far he would go to protect—how far he would go to silence even an opinion.

  Nexha felt a knot form in his stomach, a mixture of discomfort and uncertainty. He hadn’t thought that mere opinions could be enough to expel someone from the tribe. It was strange to realize just how different the customs here were compared to his old life. The idea that someone could simply disappear because they had challenged something unsettled him. A weight settled in his chest, and for a moment, he felt an even stronger need to change these customs along with the people.

  — I urgently need the school, but it will be hard to make everyone want to attend. Maybe we should start with something basic, like a divided school, with sections for cooking, training, math, agriculture, weaving, construction, and stoneworking for now… — He placed a hand on his chin as he thought. — This will put me under pressure. The cooking classes already take up a lot of my time… Maybe I’ll need teachers. Over time, someone could take my place in the cooking class, and then I could teach other things—maybe alchemy and forging later.