100 years ago…

Desert sands vaporized against an area shield spanning a league.

Zaine Everlight, twelve years of age, played with a wooden Rubik’s cube that his mother had crafted for him last night. Twenty-five squares on each face needed to be sorted. Frustration ground his teeth together, but he wasn’t going to disappoint her by failing another puzzle. She was expecting much from him, the bastard son of the Goddess of Creation.

If only she created me smarter, he thought sourly.

And why was this toy called as such? What was a Rubik? It might be someone’s name. Maybe a Sun Elf’s. Or one of those Dracos. Rubik definitely wasn’t from any of the twelve Human tribes, and he had met all the tribes, been paraded around as their future demigod leader.

Sure, why not? If they wanted to bow before him, then he wasn’t going to complain.

When the colors on the cube finally began to come together, his mother’s magical auras enveloped him from behind. She said, “You’re figuring it out.” Her voice was mellow, almost singing, with an undertone of relief. Why relief?

He asked, “You thought I wasn’t smart enough to solve this?”

“Why would you think that? You are one of the smartest Human children.”

“Aren’t I half… whatever you are?”

She was quiet for a few turns of the cube. “Yes, and no.”

“You mean I’m half and half. I understand. I’m a bastard mongrel.”

She was cross at that, but only for a second. “No… You are not a bastard mongrel, Zaine. You are unique and special.”

“How so?”

“You have a soul.”

She was being poetic again. He took that as meaning she loved him. “Right… I bet Anton’s mother also says she loves him.”

“I hope so. All my creations deserve love, including this Rubik’s cube, which you are handling very roughly. I spent all month thinking of what to make for you.”

Chagrin pursed his lips. He loosened his grip, twisting it more gently. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

She smiled. “That’s better, and I can see you’ve devised a strategy.”

He shrugged. “No, I’m turning squares randomly, but…” He was frowning in concentration. “If focus on the corners first, then—” He growled as his new strategy did not yield results.

“Keep trying. I think you might have been onto something.”

“Really?”

“Mayhaps.” She smiled mischievously, then sat next to him, her legs folding together on the rug, on the lotus flower stitchings. She was wearing her fancy dress made of gold rings again, which startled him.

“What’s happening? Why are you wearing that?”

Her head inclined. She said merrily, “You remember? I hadn’t worn this since you were barely three.”

“I remember clearly. We were with the tribe leaders.”

“Oh? I’m surprised that you do. Very surprised.”

He lowered the half-solved Rubik’s cube, looking at her. He pulled a lop-sided smile. “You’re teasing again.”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t you know everything in the world? In existence?”

“I don’t.” Her expression was mischievously guarded. “A lot of things, yes, but not everything, and especially not everything in existence.”

His eyelids blinked twice before he asked, “What does that mean?”

“You will understand one day. Well, I hope you will.”

The second half of that sentence slowly made sense. “You hope? As in you won’t be there to see if I do? Where are you going? What will I understand?”

She held his hand. “I’m not going anywhere, Zaine.”

“You’re lying.” He knew when she was lying. Her face was like painting.

“I promise you I am not.”

He hated when she lied. His jaw rolled, bones clinking by his ears. “I know you can see the future, mother. Lord Edmund said you showed him the future. What’s going to happen?”

She held a considering gaze for a dozen droplets of the water clock hanging on the hall, then exhaled. Her breath smelled of mint. “Zaine, the future is a lot like the desert—”

“What does that mean?”

Her brows lifted. “Don’t interrupt. The future is a lot like the desert. Each grain of sand is a whole, and from afar, they all look the same, but if you were to hold one on your palm and look very closely, you can see how one grain is slightly different from its neighbor. Some grains are more yellow, others are rounder, but grains that are black and burned stand out among the dunes. And most of all, remember, there are countless grains of sand in the desert, and if there is a storm, you won’t know where they will land or which you’ll catch in your palm. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” He nodded. He liked when she taught by parables and analogies. “What’s the storm going to be?”

She smiled. Her teeth gleamed in the curtains of sunlight. “Now, that is something a ten year old shouldn’t be worrying about—not when you have more important work to do.” She picked up the Rubik’s cube, offering it.

Silently groaning, he grabbed the darned thing. “Does it have something to do with the tribes? I heard they’re angry about something.”

“Zaine,” she said in her voice of authority. “It is not in your place.”

His chin dipped. “It will be one day.”

“One day, but that day is not today.”

And just then, his older sister Sazar walked in, an apple in hand. She was chewing with her mouth open, showing him mushed-up pieces. Gross. Her outfit that emphasized her girly parts was grosser, also made of gold rings. She swallowed and said, “When are we leaving?”

“One moment,” their mother said, glancing at her, then back at Zaine: “Your sister and I will be gone for a little trip for a couple of weeks—”

“Weeks?” His voice echoed. “What are you doing? Why can’t I come?”

“I told you yesterday: I’m getting my class,” Sazar said, hand on hip. “You’re still too young—and weak.”

He brushed off the insult. “Oh. I must’ve fallen asleep at your yapping. It’s really going to take weeks?”

Their mother said, “Yes, you heard correctly. You’ll be alone with the stone guards. Will your be fine by yourself?” What she really meant was: will you stay out of trouble by yourself?

Back straightening, Zaine thumped his chest over his heart with a tight fist. “I’ll be fine. You can count on me.”

“Ye, okay,” Sazar scoffed. “Just don’t lose your arm again.”

He blasted her with his meanest scowl, “You would’ve been dead.”

“They were only Sand Elementals.”

“Level ninety.”

“That’s nothing.” Her eyes rolled. “Mother, tell him how levels one to one hundred don’t really matter.”

Their mother grunted lightly in agreement. “She speaks truth.”

“See.” Sazar’s tongue poked out. “You should pay attention, Zaine. You’re going to end up dead or sealed or enslaved at this rate.”

“Whatever.” He waved her off, eyes back on the cube.

Their mother was chuckling. “Alright, it’s time to leave.” She stood and placed a hand on Sazar’s bare shoulder. “Any last goodbyes for your sister?”

“Goobye, Zar. I’ll miss you.” His voice was monotone.

So was hers: “Bye, Zay.”

And they vanished in an imploding circle of black and white light.

A devious smirk grew on the bottom half of Zaine’s face. It was time to explore this place, all the hidden rooms and dungeons below these pyramids. Mother had put there for a reason—for him.