Zuberi

The hum came first. It was low and melodic, threading through Zuberi’s groggy mind like a song once cherished, now half-remembered. Then awareness crashed over him, his body jerking as if pulled by invisible chains. Each breath burned sweet and sharp, like inhaling lightning. The air itself vibrated against his skin, as though it demanded his full attention.

Zuberi pried his lids open to a deep purple sky streaked with emerald and gold. Two suns loomed on the horizon, one scolding red, the other cool blue, bathing the world in surreal mauve hues. Long, thick, and distorted shadows stretched around, as if they were hiding unimaginable monsters.

Zuberi pushed himself upright, wincing as his body protested. The ground beneath him shifted with a faint, crystalline sound. Underneath him was not soil but a bed of iridescent pebbles, smooth and shimmering as if holding a tiny flame within. Each movement sent ripples of light across the pebbles' surface; the lights show coordinated with the strange hum that had awakened him. He brushed his hand through the tiny stones, marveling at their cool, glassy texture.

Without warning, fragments of memory surfaced to Zuberi’s mind with an intensity that almost sent him back to the ground. Dark waters crushed him, the taste of salt and fear buzzing in his mouth. The suffocating pressure and frantic struggle for air. The sharp pang of helplessness as the ocean swallowed him. Faces followed next. Amara’s laughter, Father’s stern gaze, his people’s cries for help, each a shard of pain pressing deeper, threatening to crush his chest. Zuberi knew he could not afford the distraction, yet the memories refused to fade. Like wounds he could not bandage, they demanded his immediate and undivided attention.

Forcing his eyes shut, trying to stabilize the spinning world, Zuberi brought his hand to his side, finding the familiar cool metal of his chakram. The weapon’s presence steadied him. Even though something felt different about it, the familiar etchings on its surface helped calm his racing heart.

Slowly, Zuberi willed his breathing to even, ignoring the sense of doom that hung around him, forcing his mind to deal with the real, the here, the now. The way his damp robes clung to his skin, the sash around his waist, loosened by unremembered struggle, his bare feet against the glowing, vibrating pebbles.

When he opened his eyes again, he gazed at the clearing in which he found himself, the tall trees that cast the strange shadowy shimmering rainbows, their looming branches with indigo bark translucent leaves. Zuberi’s eyes narrowed as he took it all in, the surreal beauty filling him with wonder and dread in equal measures. Strange brushes nearby swayed in a nonexistent wind, bulbous fronds, glimmering pods, and twitching vines. The air felt alive, heavy with expectation, as though it waited for him to do something.

A small glowing creature, half-butterfly, half-dandelion seed head, fluttered past, its translucent body pulsing with light. Zuberi reached out with his finger, but the thing darted away, surprisingly agile, disappearing into the underbrush. Once more, the encounter left him with a strange mixture of awe and unease.

The hum grew louder, threading through the forest. Every patch of moss, undulating blade of grass, glowing vine, and the air itself felt connected, aware. Every time the buzzing in the air peaked, for it had a rhythm of its own, Zuberi’s hair stood on end, the way it did when a powerful storm gathered on the horizon. When he brought his hands before his eyes, he noticed faint lines snaking in strange patterns on his skin, racing along his arms, glowing with his heartbeat and with the rhythm in the air. He rubbed at the lines as if they were stains. They faded only to return the second he removed his hand, resuming their gentle pulse.

A rustling sound drew Zuberi’s attention. His grip tightened on his chakram. The shadows beneath the trees seemed to thicken, dimming the omnipresent light.

“Who’s there?” His voice cut through the hum, steadier than he expected given the unease crawling up his spine.

Silence. Then, something burst from the underbrush. It was sleek and low to the ground, its silver scales shimmering like liquid light. Crystalline spines lined the creature’s back, refracting the twin suns into sharp, dazzling glares. Its large, violet, and intelligent eyes locked on him. A predator’s gaze.

The beast circled Zuberi, each step taken with care, muscles rippling with power. Zuberi’s eyes narrowed, instincts sharpened, every nerve attuned to the predator’s movements as he matched its pace, chakram ready. The glowing lines on his skin tightened, the way blood had once stretched his skin as it dried up in the aftermath of battle.

For a heartbeat, the creature paused, hesitating. Recognition flickered in its gaze, an acknowledgment that what stood before it might not be pray after all. Then, as if deciding it was the hunter, the apex predator, it growled, low and guttural, and sprang.

Time slowed. Zuberi sidestepped, his hand closing around the chakram’s blade as naturally as drawing a breath. He hurled it toward the creature, its edge gleaming with a reddish glow that was too bright for reflected light. The weapon struck the beast mid-leap, and what happened next made Zuberi’s breath catch. The chakram arced back toward him, its spin intact, as if it had bounced against an unseen force. His hand moved as if on its own, catching the weapon that should have severed his fingers. Instead, the deadly edge stopped the instant it touched his palm, as though recognizing its owner, the glow around the rim fading back to its usual silver on black sheen. With one eye trained on the beast, noticing the cut along its flank, nostrils flaring at the pungent odor reminiscent of turtle shells left too long under the coals, Zuberi eyed his weapon.

Circling in the opposite direction to the dog-sized creature, Zuberi sheathed his chakram and reached for the spear slung over his shoulder. With a practiced motion, he flicked the shaft up, allowing the string to rotate the spearhead from pointing at the ground to aiming at his adversary in less time than it took to draw a single breath. He observed how the sturdy yet simple shaft, which he had carved from an acacia tree in a single afternoon, was now heavier and sturdier. Textured material coated parts of the dark wood, offering exceptional traction.

With a shrug, Zuberi loosened the spear’s sling, once old rugged boiled leather braided into a thicker one, now a lighter, still braided, black string. He twirled the spear, the edge flashing before his eyes, all rust removed from the iron head now coated with a matte black material. He replaced the spear, securing it by looping the sling over his head, and drew the machete at his hip. The handle had the same coating that offered an incredible purchase for his hand. Zuberi, ever mindful of the predatory creature nearby, observed the impeccable balance of the tool. Its primary function was to clear dense foliage and, if necessary, be a secondary weapon in the absence of another. Yet, this was no crude tool of an everyday bushman. This was a weapon he would have offered as a gift to the neighboring tribe once they made peace. This observation confirmed his suspicion. His weapons, and even tools, though familiar, had undergone a transformation. However, regardless of their wondrous improvements, investigating his weapons during a fight would result in one outcome—death.

Knowing he did not want to risk his spear against a foe he knew nothing about, Zuberi decided the chakram was the better weapon to keep the beast that now favored one side at a distance. He switched weapons again, tightening his grip around the chakram and forcing his breathing to steady once more.

The beast’s violet eyes remained wary, watching Zuberi with its neck lowered, eyes not meeting his. For a moment, they stared at each other, predator and prey caught in uneasy silence, each trying to impress on the other which role they played. Then a roar cut through the air. It was low, thunderous, and more importantly, unknown to Zuberi who prided himself as the best tracker of his generation, capable of identifying most animal calls from the low savannah to the dense jungles and even to the barren, cold, mountaintops. The beast’s head snapped toward the sound, its spines bristling like chimes stirred by a gust of wind. It hissed, and with a final glance back at Zuberi, darted back to the forest from where it had come.

The roar came again. Closer. Goose bumps rose on Zuberi’s skin. Deciding he did not want to find out what had made that sound, he turned and ran in the direction opposite to where the beast had fled. As Zuberi ran, the forest blurred past, glowing vines whipping at his face. Creatures scattered, their luminous forms lighting his path, the hum in the air alternating between chaotic noise and the low hum he now expected the way one does the aroma of manure when it is planting season. Zuberi soon fell into a good tempo, one that let him build distance between him and whatever had belted that spooky cry, but did not drain all his stamina, lest he needed to output a burst of speed only to find himself empty.

Zuberi surged through a curtain of vines into a clearing, cursing at himself for letting his mind wander as he ran. He stopped, panting, his heart a drumbeat in his chest, and studied his surroundings. The forest behind him fell silent, as if waiting in suspense. Ahead, the ground sloped downward, the iridescent pebbles giving way to black sand that glittered with smaller pebbles. In the distance, silhouetted against the strange sky, giving off an ancient and foreboding feel, enormous structures, half crumpled like gigantic dwellings in the wake of a hurricane, loomed. They were towering ruins that clawed at the heavens. Like everything he had come across so far, the ruins pulsed with a faint light. He lowered his eyes to his arms where, under the layer of sweat, the same light flared, dimmed, and flared again.

He eyed the descending slope and followed it to formations that looked like granite boulders at first glance but looked more like growths of black crystals upon closer inspection. He thought they looked sturdy enough to offer shelter while he rested, recuperated, and processed his new reality. Once he committed, he gave a small nod and darted down the incline.