Godless Blood: Last Apostle

The boy lay in the field of white flowers, his silver hair swept by the wind like the grass and petals around him. The scent of petrichor lingered as he turned his head to the girl beside him. Her long brown hair flowed with the wind, and the seashell necklace she always carried on her was glowing underneath the bright sun.

She was his older sister in everything but blood. Mira.

He vaguely remembered Mira finding him in a crib, shielding him from the heavy rain, and her bright eyes filled with worry when he was brought to the village shaman. How she protected him more than his parents ever did.

He smiled at her, and she smiled back. the warm smile he'd protect at all costs.… Without opening his mouth, he communicated with her.

'I hope this will never end.'

The girl simply tilted her head, and chuckled silently.

'Me too. But you know the truth.'

The boy frowned, reaching out to her.

'What do you mean?'

The girl simply smiled, as the sky suddenly turned red. A strange scraping sound could be heard somewhere behind him. The flowers stopped moving. A single drop of blood came from underneath her chin, as her eyes turned stone cold.

'Don't worry...I'll see you in the next life.'

The boy suddenly shot up in shock, now suddenly on top of the worn, creased mattress that he's slept on for years.

The cold of the night desert hit him. Even though he was used to it, he couldn't help but shiver.

Another dream.

Could it even be called a dream?

He looked outside of his disheveled hut through the hole in the wall, as the stars, above the other worn roofs of the village, stared back at him.

He let out a sigh, his breath turning visible under the low temperature, as he plopped back down onto his mattress.

He'd been having the same dream over and over again, and yet he still couldn't tell what it meant. He had asked the village shaman once, but all he received was a shake of the head.. As he folded his arm over his chest instinctively from the cold, he thought about when Mira would return.

His older sister was a mercenary. Ever since the day she was given a True Name by a wandering magician, she's been trying to help the village as much as she could, trying to give him a better life.

But in doing so... She left him alone in the dark. He hid his scowl with his hand as he tried to reason it out with himself.

She was doing it for the village…

But his thoughts were interrupted as the sound of crunching sand could be heard from outside the hut. Soon enough, the cotton curtain that he called a door was pushed open, as a face popped in from the darkness. A soft voice called out to him, cutting through the dead silence of the night, sending a slight shiver down his spine.

"...Silver… Are you awake?"

…That's right… His personal name was Silver. He could still remember Mira's voice when she called him that for the first time. Groggily, he spoke.

"...Yeah… I'm. You were… Shu, right?"

Shu gave him a bright smile, barely visible in the pale moonlight. Silver still remembered the first time they met. The little boy was an orphan. Just like him.

"I'm glad you remember. I couldn't sleep… Can I stay for a bit?"

Silver blinked the sleep from his eyes, rubbing his arms against the cold. The wind outside carried a faint, dry whisper, slipping through the cracks in the hut's wooden frame. He sat up, stretching slightly, before glancing at Shu.

The younger boy stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot, his silhouette outlined by the faint glow of distant lanterns.

The village never truly slept, not with the desert nights as treacherous as they were. Somewhere beyond the rows of huts, the faint laughter of drunken traders mingled with the barking of wild dogs.

The scent of burnt incense clung to the air—a ward against spirits, or perhaps just a lingering comfort for the weary.

Silver sighed and gestured for Shu to enter. The boy wasted no time, stepping inside with the cautious enthusiasm of someone who had done this before. He lowered himself onto the rough wooden floor, hugging his knees to his chest.

"I had another dream," Shu muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Silver tilted his head slightly.

"The same one?"

Shu hesitated before shaking his head. "Different this time… but I still heard it. The scraping."

Something in Silver tensed. He had never told anyone about the sound in his own dreams—the sharp, unnatural scraping that came before everything turned wrong. But now, hearing it from someone else, a strange unease settled in his chest.

"What do you think it means?" Shu asked, his gaze flickering between Silver and the hole in the wall.

Silver exhaled slowly, leaning back onto his mattress. "I don't know. But I don't think dreams should bleed into reality."

Shu chewed on his lip, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. He looked toward the village, his dark eyes reflecting the glint of lantern light.

Outside, the wind shifted. The low murmur of voices grew louder as a group of figures passed by—cloaked in dust and exhaustion, fresh from the outskirts. More travelers, more wandering souls seeking shelter before sunrise. Some would stay. Some would disappear without a word.

Shu hugged his knees tighter. "You think Mira will be back soon?"

Silver didn't answer immediately. His eyes lingered on the torn fabric covering the doorway, as if expecting her shadow to appear at any moment. But the night remained still.

"…Yeah," he said finally. "She always comes back."

The words felt more like a plea than a certainty.

Shu remained silent, as he stared blankly at the stars from the other side of the hole in the wall.

"I hope you're right."

The two sat there, not making a sound, but their silence spoke words. A started breeze shifting the sand wrongly, and a dog growling at nothing. They seek comfort under each other's presence. They slowly scooched a bit closer to each other, as the two gazed off into the unknown.