The Street
The morning came with noise.
BANG.
CLANG.
CLACK-CLACK.
Voices shouted outside the shattered cabin. Wheels rolled across stone. Vendors yelled prices at full volume.
Nyxlo sat on the wooden floor between his parents.
The blood had dried. The air smelled of rot. The broken door leaned against the wall with blood scattered all across it
He wasn't crying anymore but was deeply broken inside.
He stood up slowly. His legs felt weak. He stepped over splintered wood and walked toward the doorway.
Outside, Luxia's outer district moved at full speed.
Carts rolled past. Horses stomped. Merchants argued. Children ran. The street felt alive, which made Nyxlo feel down, as his parents were dead inside of the cabin right now.
Nyxlo stepped out barefoot.
The hard cold stone pressed against his feet.
A woman carrying bread walked past him. She glanced once at the broken door and then kept walking.
A man pulling a cart muttered something under his breath and continued forward.
Everyone noticed but didn't have the heart to care.
Nyxlo looked back once.
The cabin used to be beautiful and now it was almost in pieces.
Then he turned away.
He walked down the narrow street.
His steps echoing loudly in his mind and ears. Every sound hit him harder than before.
A butcher slammed his cleaver down on a pig's leg.
THUD.
A smith hammered metal.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
A carriage rolled past him.
Nyxlo flinched at every noise. His heart just kept pounding fast. So fast he felt like it would burst out of his chest.
He walked past a fruit stall.
Red apples stacked high. Oranges piled neatly in nets.
The vendor shouted, "Fresh! Fresh! Come get fresh fruits here"
Nyxlo stared for a moment.
He had eaten honey bread last night.
Now he had nothing, just looking at the food made his stomach growled.
He swallowed the urge and kept walking.
A group of boys ran past him, laughing loudly.
"Catch me!"
"Too slow!"
They bumped into his shoulder.
He stumbled.
One of them turned. "Watch it!, freak."
Nyxlo said nothing in response, but he wanted to.
So he just kept watching as the boys ran off laughing at him.
The street grew wider as he moved deeper into the district.
He stopped near a fountain in the center of a small square.
Water poured from a carved lion's mouth.
People gathered around it. Filling buckets. Talking. Arguing.
Nyxlo stepped closer and dipped his hands into the water.
It was cold and nice.
He splashed his face.
He looked down at his reflection.
His eyes looked darker.
He still was processing everything from last night.
He still remembered everything from the past night
He remembered the silver symbol.
He remembered the scar under the man's ear.
He remembered the voice.
"You won't remember this clearly."
Nyxlo clenched his fists.
He remembered everything.
A loud crack split the air.
CRACK!
Two guards struck a bpy near the edge of the square. The boy on the ground cried out.
"Please!"
Nyxlo watched with confusion wondering what crime the boy must've committed.
The guards dragged the boy away.
The crowd formed around the scene quickly disbanded.
Nyxlo didn't waste time and left with the crowd
He passed an alley filled with people.
He paused and turned around and walked into it.
Inside, graffiti stretched long across stacked crates and broken barrels.
He stepped in.
The noise of the main street dulled slightly.
He sat on a crate and hugged his knees.
He did not know where to go.
He did not know who to ask.
He did not know what to do.
But he knew one thing.
The men who killed his parents walked these streets too.
Maybe not today.
Maybe not tomorrow.
But they walked somewhere.
His stomach growled.
He pressed his hand against it.
Footsteps entered the alley.
Nyxlo looked up and found an old man standing in front of him.
An old man stood there holding a sack of vegetables and food. He stopped when he saw Nyxlo.
"You live here?" the man asked.
Nyxlo shook his head .
The old man studied him for a long moment. His gaze dropped to Nyxlo's bare feet. His thin clothes.
"You alone?"
Nyxlo hesitated.
Then he nodded.
The old man sighed loudly.
"Here kiddo."
He reached into his sack and tossed a small loaf of bread toward Nyxlo.
Nyxlo caught it.
"Eat," the man said. "Then leave the alley. It's not safe for a kid like you."
Nyxlo held the bread tightly.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
The old man grunted and walked away.
Nyxlo stared at the bread scared something was planted inside.
But before he could think again the old man yelled out " It's not poison kiddo just eat the damn bread.
Hearing that Nyxlo didn't waste no time and quickly bit into it.
It was hard and dry.
He chewed slowly.
Each bite felt too big for his mouth. He forced himself to swallow.
He finished it completely.
Not a single crumb remained.
He stood up, and started heading back into the main street.
The sky had shifted higher. The sun climbed above the rooftops.
Nyxlo walked everywhere without direction.
He crossed streets.
He avoided carts.
He moved through crowds.
At one point, he even ran into a noble carriage and he noticed its polished wheels, its body painted deep blue. Silver trim reflected sunlight.
Four guards rode beside it.
Nyxlo stared at the silver details.
For one second, his chest tightened.
He stepped closer.
A guard noticed him.
"Hey step back!" the man barked.
Nyxlo froze.
The carriage continued moving forward.
Dust kicked into his face.
He didn't even move a flinch; he kept his eyes on the carriage so long that he watched until it disappeared.
The silver shimmer reminded him of the embroidery on the killers' collars.
His hands shook slightly.
He did not let himself look away.
A bell rang from somewhere in the district.
People started to shift directions. Shops began closing shutters halfway. Workers moved with more urgency.
Nyxlo did not understand the schedule of the city, but he followed the flow of people.
He reached a bridge that crossed a narrow canal.
Water moved underneath.
He leaned over the railing and looked down.
For a moment, he imagined jumping.
To end himself for not being able to protect his mother and father.
To wash away everything from last night.
He stepped back.
No.
He didn't want to disappear that quick as he still needed revenge for his parents, but what did that even mean?
He didn't know.
But he would find out.
Even if it took one thousand days, or ten thousand, he would eventually learn.
A sudden shove knocked him forward.
"Move!"
A man carrying crates pushed past him.
Nyxlo stumbled but stayed on his feet.
His small hands clenched again.
He wanted to scream.
He wanted to fight.
He wanted to kill, but he knew he didn't have the strength so he kept walking.
The street narrowed once more as he returned toward the outer edge of the district.
The buildings became more smaller.
Children played near a stack of crates.
One of them tripped and fell and began to cry loudly.
Nyxlo stopped and watched as the child's mother rushed outside and pick him up immediately.
"It's okay," she said.
She held him tightly.
Nyxlo looked away quickly.
His chest felt tight.
This scene made him remember his old life that had just been destroyed, and that thought angered him so he quickly walked faster.
The sun began to lower slowly.
Shadows stretched longer across the ground.
The noise of the district shifted into evening tones.
Nyxlo stopped at the edge of the street where the outer district met a small hill.
He turned around and looked at Luxia.
Smoke rose from hundreds of homes.
Windows glowed faintly.
People returned happily to their families.
It saddened him as he stood here alone.
He had no door to close.
No table to sit at.
No candles to light.
His seventh birthday was supposed to be the best but it had ended in blood.
He lowered himself to the ground near a stack of old crates.
The stone felt cold again.
He pulled his knees close.
He didn't sleep immediately, instead he listened.
The sound of distant wheels, sound of voices. barks of a stray dog.
The city was nice to his ears but not his mind.
It didn't really care for anything nor did it not notice.
It simply was there.
Nyxlo stared at the darkening sky.
His eyes stayed open long after the last light faded.
He kept repeating one thing in his mind.
Not in one year.
Not in one hundred.
The street that ignored him would one day hear his name shouted louder than every cart, every hammer, every bell.
He did not know how, nor did he know when.
But the city that ignored him today would one day tremble at his steps.
And Nyxlo, finally closed his eyes without fear.
Tomorrow he will walk again stronger than ever.