The sun of ZORA beat down hard, turning the clearing into an oven where the yellowed grasses shimmered. Crouched down, a gnarled stick clenched in his fist, ZE-RAK, eldest son of the great hunter ZE-BE, stared at a stump with unreasonable intensity.
"Alright, let's see..." he murmured, a smile playing on his lips.
And the world around him faded away.
In his mind, the stump transformed. It became a cat, a real one, with shiny fur, twitching whiskers, and a tail held high like a flag. The little feline stared at him with big yellow eyes, looking wary yet mocking, as if it knew it was untouchable.
"Oh ho... you think you can escape me, huh?" thought ZE-RAK, his lips stretched into a smile.
The cat pretended to lick its paw, then suddenly leaped sideways with dazzling speed. ZE-RAK reacted instantly, throwing himself forward, but the animal had already vanished from his sight, darting behind his back.
"Too fast!" he grumbled inwardly.
He bent his knees, attentive. The feline was now trotting in circles, supple and elusive, as if taunting him. ZE-RAK waited for the right moment, reached out his hand, feinted left, then dove right. His fingers brushed against the animal's tail, but it leaped away again, graceful, escaping his grasp.
The boy burst into panting laughter. "Clever! But I can be cunning too."
He began to crawl, half-crouched, advancing slowly, his eyes fixed on his opponent. The cat, intrigued, stopped, ears perked up, tail whipping the air. ZE-RAK waited, motionless, a statue of patience. Then, in one sudden move, he pounced!
This time, he caught the animal by its belly, lifting it into his arms like a trophy. The cat meowed, squirmed, scratched a little, but it was no use: ZE-RAK held it firmly.
He stood up, short of breath but beaming with pride. "Haha! You see? Even the most agile feline is no match for ZE-RAK!"
He raised his imaginary "adversary" high, like a warrior displaying his spoils. In his mind, the crowd cheered his victory.
Then the clearing returned to him, silent, still, scorched by the sun. His smile remained, wide and brilliant.
"Brouhaha! Too easy for the future great hunter ZE-RAK!"
He stood up, puffing out his chest, covered in sweat and dust. This was his "special ability." To replay, to invent, to simulate. His father said it was the foundation of a true hunter's instinct. His mother saw it as a child's daydream. For ZE-RAK, it was his bridge to glory. The only way to get closer to the man who was both his role model and an insurmountable wall.
Because ZE-BE refused to train him. "You will learn from your own experiences," he had said, his gaze impassive. "You will start on the same line as the others. That way, you will have rivals, and you will learn to push yourself. Otherwise, you will become lazy and arrogant."
ZE-RAK had nodded, but deep down, he doubted. Was it really for his own good? Or was his father, the man who seemed to touch the sun, hiding something? A flaw? A fear?
"Phew! The sun is merciless today!" He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his forearm. "But well... it's normal, I pushed myself hard."
He burst into a proud laugh, a little too loud. The sound echoed in the empty clearing.
"Alright, I need to go home. Mother will scold me again if I'm late."
He raised his arms to the sky, putting on the airs of a victorious lord. "Hehe, don't worry, mother! Your only son, ZE-RAK, will become the greatest hunter! Father will be proud of me! Brouhaha!"
His little sister, ZE-YA, would surely have rolled her eyes and mocked him. "Tss, brat. If only you knew how powerful I'm going to be... fufu..."
It was at that precise moment that the calm shattered.
A sound of hurried, disorderly footsteps tore through the silence. ZE-RAK threw himself aside by pure reflex, his body reacting before his mind could comprehend. GO-ZO, a boy younger than him, known for a pathological shyness that made him stutter, charged straight ahead, his face distorted by an absolute terror so profound it was dehumanizing. He was pale, his bulging eyes reddened, his mouth wide open gasping for air that seemed to burn his lungs.
"Eeeeh! GO-ZO?!" exclaimed ZE-RAK, his chest suddenly tight. "Are you trying to run me over or what?"
GO-ZO stopped abruptly, bent double, hands on his knees. His entire body trembled like a leaf in a storm. Dry, tearless sobs shook him.
"I... I was looking for you... everywhere..." he gasped.
ZE-RAK's worry turned into a cold, visceral anguish. Seeing GO-ZO in such a state meant the unthinkable.
"What is it?" he asked, his own voice sounding strangely distant. "Did something happen?"
"Your father..." panted GO-ZO. "Your father is..."
"Injured?!" ZE-RAK's hands began to tremble. He grabbed the boy's shoulders. "Where is he? Speak!"
GO-ZO shook his head with desperate violence. "No... he's at the judgment hall."
ZE-RAK's world tilted. The colors became too vivid, the sun too white, the sounds too sharp. The judgment hall? Only those accused of the worst crimes were summoned there, those who had violated the sacred taboos, the laws that maintained the tribe's balance.
"What did you just say?" he screamed, his voice shrill, uncontrolled. "Why would he be there? Tell me what's happening!"
"They... they say he violated the taboos!" cried GO-ZO, his eyes full of contagious horror. "That he committed a sin! That he killed..."
ZE-RAK's blood ran cold. An icy chill ran down his spine. "My father? No, that's impossible! You're lying, aren't you? TELL ME YOU'RE LYING!"
He shook GO-ZO, searching his glassy eyes for a sign of deception, a bad joke.
"I'm not lying! I saw him, that's why I came to warn..."
ZE-RAK was no longer listening. He released GO-ZO as if he had become burning hot and started to run. His legs, so solid moments before in his simulation, had turned to cotton. His heart pounded against his ribs, a frantic drum beating out a single thought, a single denial: It's a lie. Father would never do that. Never.
The run through the village was a blurred nightmare. The huts seemed to warp as he passed. Faces turned toward him, but he saw only indistinct blurs. The only fixed point was the judgment hall, its imposing structure standing in the center of the village, sinister and threatening.
It was packed. A dense, noisy crowd had crammed in, vibrating with an unhealthy energy, a nauseating mix of eager curiosity, fear, and pure schadenfreude. ZE-RAK slipped between bodies, shoving without care, hearing murmurs that died down as he passed.
"Father!" he cried, emerging at the front rows, ignoring the disapproving looks. "Father!"
And he saw him.
ZE-BE was there, standing on the platform, straight as an arrow. Too straight. Like a wooden statue. Seeing his son, a strange, complex light flashed in his eyes—a spark of tenderness, of painful pride, and something darker, resigned. He sketched a faint smile, a smile that didn't reach his eyes, a ghost's smile.
"ZE-RAK, you're here?"
The apparent serenity of his father chilled him. "Huh...? Why is he... smiling?"
His gaze frantically searched the crowd. "Mother?" he murmured, spotting them, relegated to the shadows, set apart. His mother, her face streaming with silent tears, held his little sister, ZE-YA, close—pale and trembling, her big eyes, usually so mischievous, wide with incomprehensible terror.
"Mother, what's happening? I heard that father has..."
She shook her head, unable to utter a word. Her shoulders trembled as if all was already lost. Her glassy eyes, fixed on her husband, seemed to already see beyond, into the realm of the ancestors. She had always taken things seriously, perhaps too seriously, but this despair was of another nature. It was surrender.
"Calm down, mother! Father would never do such a thing!" he tried to reassure her, but his words sounded hollow, drowned in the ocean of his own bewilderment.
Suddenly, a thundering voice cut through the air like a blade, imposing an immediate and fearful silence.
"Silence! The Elders and the Priestess are arriving!"
A leaden silence fell, as heavy and oppressive as the heat. The respect mixed with fear that these figures inspired stifled all speech. They took their places on the platform, their faces grave and impenetrable. The Chief, marked by years and the weight of power. The Elders, whose gazes seemed to judge the soul. And the Priestess.
Her gaze, impassive, seemed to sweep the assembly and settle for a moment, heavy and inquisitive, on ZE-RAK. It was a gaze that weighed, that probed, and that, perhaps, already knew the end of this story.
The tension became palpable, a rope stretched too tight, ready to snap.
The judgment of ZE-BE, the idol, the role model, the father, was about to begin.
And ZE-RAK,the son who dreamed of glory, stood there, powerless, on the edge of an abyss.