The wind tonight had teeth.
It scraped through the holes in their home's crumbling walls, lifting sand like whispers of old ghosts. The fire in the clay pit had already dimmed, and the flicker of its dying light danced on Nilo's face as he snored softly. Kanan sat awake, knees to chest, back aching from the cracked floor beneath him.
He hadn't slept properly in weeks. But tonight, something gnawed at his gut louder than the hunger.
Nilo had coughed again. Not just once — but in fits. Deep, clawing sounds that left specks of blood on the corner of his mouth. Kanan had wiped it away before his brother noticed.
That cough…
He'd had it once too.
Not long after his own vision began to fail, when his legs trembled beneath him for no reason, when he first felt like the world was fading faster than he could hold onto it.
He didn't speak. He only watched. The way Nilo had run earlier, chasing the broken spoon like it was a sword — only to collapse behind the water drum in a dizzy spell.
Nilo had smiled through it. Just like Kanan used to.
That terrified him more than the cough.
Their mother, meanwhile, was still muttering in the corner. She hadn't eaten today. Or yesterday. She spoke to the wall in tongues Kanan couldn't follow — nonsense words about old gods and their generosity.
He had grown numb to her wild laughter. But Nilo hadn't.
Earlier, when the sky was still orange and dry, their mother had grabbed Nilo by the arm and whispered things into his ear. He didn't say what she said. But Kanan saw the way his smile faltered afterwards, how his shoulders seemed to carry something heavier than usual.
The world was too cruel for a child like Nilo. Kanan had always known this.
But now… the signs were here. The same signs.
His heart beat louder than the wind. Something raw and wordless stirred inside him. He wasn't a man of strength. He couldn't hunt or speak like the Elder. He had no magic. No food. No answers.
But he had one thing left.
He could try.
Kanan turned toward his brother, studying the firelight on his cheeks, the wild curls and soft breathing.
"You won't end up like me," he whispered, the words dry and certain.
"Even if it kills me, Nilo. I won't let it take you."
A gust of wind burst through the doorway, scattering dust across the fire. It flickered… then flared… then died.
Kanan remained in the dark, unmoving.
But something inside him — a shadow long buried — had finally stirred.
[To Be Continued...]