The Desert Spirit: Mirami
Kaien's possessions were few, but in his mind, he had cataloged them carefully.
A handful of dry corn, a blanket once belonging to his mother, and some torn clothing to change his bandages with a flute, given by his father.
He bound everything securely in a large square of cloth, tying it tightly across his back, knotting it firmly at his chest.
Around his waist, he wore the remaining token of his mother, a jar carefully tied, its contents hidden within.
His water, stored in a bag made of animal hide, was capped with a wooden stopper, a meager amount meant to sustain him.
On his feet, he wore shoes scavenged from the body of a deceased villager, protecting him from the relentless desert heat beneath.
Kaien knew better than to drink water too often; he had heard the warnings—overindulgence could be fatal in a land where the sun itself seemed to burn its way into the soul.
But the relentless heat of the blazing sun, which appeared to hover impossibly close to the earth, and the unbearable heat rising from the ground beneath, stirred in him a growing restlessness.
It didn't take long for Kaien to realize that he could no longer walk during the day. The blazing sun left him no choice but to seek shelter from its unforgiving rays. The night would become his only ally.
His body was drenched in sweat, the hissing sound of his skin as it met the blistering sunlight, each droplet searing as it slid down his flesh. His chest felt as though it might cave in, the heat threatening to crush him from within.
He had walked so far that the once-familiar smoke from the pyre he had set for the corpses was now a distant memory, lost to the unyielding desert expanse.
It was a dead end.
I have to find shelter.
Sweeping his gaze around him, Kaien saw nothing but endless sand, the heat radiating in waves as though the very earth were alive, shifting beneath him.
He attempted to move forward, but his feet felt heavy, the sand creeping into his shoes, making each step unbearable.
Now, Kaien wasn't even sure if he was walking straight anymore. In a place like this, one wrong step could send him in endless circles, a maze with no way of knowing which direction was true.
He wiped the sweat from his chin as he continued onward, his mind fogged by exhaustion.
As Kaien trudged on, he heard it—a whisper in the wind. Soft, barely audible, yet it froze him in his tracks.
"Where are you going, child?" the voice murmured, and Kaien paused mid-step, his heart racing.
He glanced around, but there was nothing, no one. Only the vast, barren desert, stretching endlessly in every direction.
It must have been a trick—something the villagers used to talk about. They spoke of illusions, of voices that played with the minds of those who ventured too far into the desert.
Shaking his head, Kaien took another step, determined not to let the tricks of the desert distract him. But the voice came again, louder this time, closer.
"Where are you going?" it asked,a woman voice, with an unsettling clarity that made Kaien's skin crawl.
He didn't stop. He couldn't afford to. The heat and exhaustion gnawed at him, but he pushed forward, his mind focused on the goal.
"Ho ho ho! All the others I've met have lost their minds hearing my voice after such exhaustion," the voice laughed, its tone rich with amusement. "They think they've lost their sanity. But you—you're different, aren't you..hm?"
Kaien's pace quickened, and the voice followed him, its tone growing more excited, almost delighted in the challenge.
"Hy, kid! Can you not hear me?" The voice paused for a brief moment, then the sneer was unmistakable. "But you paused when you first heard me, didn't you?"
The voice seemed to grow darker, its mocking tone now dripping with malice. "Come on, child. I know you're listening. I see you."
But Kaien didn't falter. He refused to give the voice the satisfaction of a response. His staff in hand, he focused all his energy on ignoring the whispers that grew more desperate with each step he took.
The voice hissed, its sound now laced with frustration. "You must be a strong-willed boy, aren't you? You must think you can survive this endless desert."
There was a slight shift in the voice now, a drop in its previously gleeful pitch as it spoke once more, its words laced with venom.
"But you see, no matter how strong-willed you are—or even if you were a dragon—this desert will swallow you whole."
Kaien paused for a moment, his breath coming in short gasps, his body wracked with exhaustion.
He could feel his fingers tracing the water bag at his waist, but there was so little left. Just a trickle.
That's when memories of his mother came flooding back—stories she had once told him to lull him to sleep.
Kaien's weary mind drifted back to those stories—his mother's voice soft in his memory as she spoke of things beyond the horizon, far beyond the limits of their village.
He had always been curious about the world outside, a curiosity that set him apart from the others.
Most of the villagers had never left the confines of the town, and those who ventured into the desert were soon found dead, their bodies ravaged by the unforgiving elements.
It was a cruel truth, one Kaien's parents never discouraged. They supported him, his mother especially, often whispering to him the tales of distant lands and strange beings.
She spoke of spirits—desert spirits, to be precise. These ethereal beings, she explained, were born from the arid sands, forever trapped in the desert's endless stretch.
They waited for travelers to cross their path, feeding on the despair and darkness of those who wandered too far.
"They live on Yin Qi," his mother had said, her voice a soft lullaby in the night. "The energy that comes from human sorrow. It is this energy that keeps them alive. But in the desert, there are so few souls to feed on. So they are desperate. They devour everything—life, hope, energy."
Kaien remembered his mother's eyes, full of both tenderness and sorrow, as she continued, "In the towns, there are always many people. The spirits find their nourishment in the darkness of the heart, hidden within the people. But in the desert, where few travel, the spirits are starved. They are forced to wait... and when a new traveler comes, they must devour them entirely, for they cannot survive without feeding."
A shiver passed down Kaien's spine. His mother's stories were chilling, but they had fascinated him—stories of spirits known as Mirami, creatures of the desert who were as dangerous as they were cunning.
Kaien had listened intently, his small fingers clutching his blanket as he lay beside the warmth of the fire. "If you ever meet a Mirami," his mother had whispered, "make a pact with them. They cannot break their word."
His father had chuckled softly from across the room, setting down his tools as he fixed the door, "Umi, stop telling such horror stories to a child. He's just three years old lamb."
Kaien's mother had ruffled his hair and tucked him deeper into his blanket. "My Kai is brave, and you stop calling him a lamb," she had said, a playful smile on her lips.
The laughter that followed—the loving warmth of that moment—seemed to fade as the years passed, a memory buried beneath the weight of time and sorrow.
Kaien's heart felt heavy with the weight of his mother's words, and as his feet dragged through the unforgiving sand, he found himself wishing for the comfort of her voice.
The voice whispered again "why suddenly so silent? I see...are you afraid of death too"