The Last Amulet

1. Nadia  I shielded my face with a veil as I walked towards the dawning city. “Aishhh- why now?” I complained.   The blasted wind was working against me. No, rebelling is a better word. Rebelling, bullying me even, it’s unfair. I’m blaming this on my granny. That woman’s up there howling in her seat, watching the sand feast at my life. I caught my breath and waited a sec, deliberating whether I should just return home. In that moment of hesitancy, I felt the exposed areas of my body stinging, pulsing in cadence to my anger. Like the wind wasn’t already enough, golden coils of sand lashed at me, leaving cruel marks against my feet. Pockmarked, already from the last spasm of bruises and blisters, I regretted every decision that made me live out in the frickin’ desert. s**t, I can't do this anymore. My sanity was at a tipping point this morning, especially since walking to my master’s house was a pain in the a*s. As the finishing touch to this endless bad luck, my energy was close to nothing. I barely fit two spoons of rice in my mouth before half of my body raced out the door.  “Ack, -ptoo! Kill me already.” I grumbled. Spitting clots of sand out of my mouth, I approached the men standing with thick tipped spears at the entrance. I breathed a sigh of relief, not feeling the spirit to make casual talk. Lucky for me, they weren’t either, nodding me in with a side glance. I wondered how they handled the sun's heat in their black outfits.  “Take care on your way, yeah?” said a passing guard, waving me by. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak right now. Haha, the only thing that’s gonna come outta my mouth is sand. If this day ain’t stress-free-, I thought, wincing at the pain in my back. Putting my stuff down near an abandoned store, I fixed my shabby appearance through the broken window. The fresh clothes I pulled out of the hamper this morning, was a soiled mess covered in the art of ~sand~. How wonderful, I rolled my eyes. I spent hours making this outfit, and for it to just go to waste made me wanna break shi’ apart. I swallowed the angry tears and picked up my stack of hay again. Forget the outfit. At least I can make another with the salary I’m gonna receive next week. I shoved the broken chunks of rubble out of my way, my eyes watering from the dust that resulted from their shift in position. The empire left all the buildings untended in this area, save for the occasional d**g dealers or the homeless. Are you telling me the empire’s tryna hide this side of Pereshwar? Yet it’s at the entrance to the city… what clowns, leaving this area broken and wasted. It made me smirk, remembering the bullshit I learnt in grade class.  The Kingdom of Pereshwar, magnanimous for its majestic desert and ethereal oases. Pereshwarians took great pride in their land, of course. The sand was an exotic beauty spanning lengths of land... Yaddee, yaddee, yadda, who the hell wrote those damned history textbooks. “Try walking through this shitstorm every morning, my dear historians.” I heaved the sack of hay again. “I wanna know whose blood runs through this ground, not what covers it, yeah?” I love how I’ve normalized talking to myself. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. I shook my head and continued along my path, trying to forget about how sarcasm was the foundation of my speech now.   Anywho, Palawana, the town in which I currently live, is probably the closest to the city. Nonetheless, it's also the most ignored, which works well in my favour. Why, you ask? To keep my existence low-key, that is.  I, Nadia Rafsani aka Nailah El Nour, am currently working in the grand city, Karandish, infamously known as the land of the exotic bimbos and himbos and everything in between.  Not gonna lie, I take pride in the diversity of Karandish. Although I’m mainly oriented on knowing the root of its history, I still find the city one of the best in the entire empire. Credits go to Mother Nefertiti for becoming the heart of this city. No seriously, what would we be without her? Being the only woman to defeat the strongest warrior with just her character, Mother Nefertiti embodied the emancipation of the Pereshwarian Empire. Centuries ago, the most notable victory against the Vlademese of the West took place in Karandish. I remember the exhilaration I felt listening to those empowering tales.  “The Battle of Karana,” I closed my eyes, savouring the gruesome details of those whispered stories.  Some things are better left unknown, my mother used to say, and I’d agree...to an extent.  Mother Nefertiti defeated the evil calamity known as Emperor Lahad Valdere the III, giving peace and protection to the citizens of Pereshwar… And it stops at that. Even the most authentic history books barely mention it.  “Take out the fluff, and I’ll fill in the missing details,” I smirked nastily. That’s why I still roam these streets. To cause chaos, to ruin history, to avenge my grandmother. Yes, that’s my purpose. After all, revenge is for the living.  It is impossible to take out a whole lineage without it leaving a legacy of resentment. Literally, f**k the patriarchy, the bigotry must go, man. I looked at the castle, dead a*s, hoping I can send them an exaggerated image of me flashing them the middle finger telepathically. f**k you bitches-  One day, I’ll grow the courage to do it in real life, haha. I lifted my now-damaged tunic and gently wiped the sweat off my face. Quickly pushing down my pessimism, I approached the goddess herself. “May the goddess’s blessings reach you,” a kind lady bowed, taking a position beside me. “And you,” I smiled at her before closing my eyes in prayer. Mother Nefertiti is not a God, but we all thought that she was a vassal, after everything that she did for us. I remember how I etched her beauty into my mind, the lines and curves, the light and warmth, the power and magnificence. I smiled as I followed the trail of light emanating from her, losing myself in the lull of her world. I reconstructed the gold lines that ran through shiny brown marble, following the spirit that travelled through the Mother’s veins. In an intricate pattern of crisscrossing, it entwined her body and circled over her heart. Although it looked deathly, it revealed the struggle of her love and pain for the future of the Pereshwarian generations. The image that I created gave her life, a soul, and it recognized her spirit. The pioneer of our history and a symbol of our native identity is more a convenience for this damned empire to view her as a decorative placement. More tourists, more money. Capitalism is honestly the worst existence to ever grace this planet- and that’s saying something. As the gentle chatter of the surrounding people filled my ears, I slowly made my way outside. “Oops, watch your head there, sweetheart!” A lanky foreigner kindly alerted me before carrying a large box of maps over my head.  I stared belatedly, not so used to the choice of words. Surprised that it lightened me a bit more than I had expected, I felt a genuine smile emerging on my face. Shaking myself out of my reverie, I resumed my walk to Master Thelowars’ mansion. This time, I paid particular attention to which side of the street I walked on.  It’s common practice for servants to keep their heads down while walking on the sidewalk. As many nobles, aristocrats, and scholars pass by, servants trigger them for some dumb a*s reason. The ego- I mean pride, of these very dignified nobles are sky level, and it’s probably for the best, not to interact with them. “Ayo! Move, ya hussy!!” a large man shouted from behind me. Before making way, I felt something clip at the back of my feet and shot an irritated glance at the hoarse voice. The burly man pushed a cartel of goods, letting out a string of curses as other servants like me crowded the pathway. I didn’t let this cloud my chances of having a good day. It’s my pride or nothing, and I had no courage to do the former.