Once upon a time, young men knew the heavy weight of honor and responsibility and carried it with pride. Ura, the eldest son of the tribe's chief, was no different.
He sat on the sand as the sea crashed and the white foam lapped at his feet. In the distance, Ura could hear the drums beginning their song of celebration, as he battled with his decision.
Bragged to be the best looking man in the tribe, his thick black hair reached to the small of his back, and smooth tanned skin covered his taut, lean body. He had his mother's light eyes and his father's strong chin. His father always said that their only differences were their eyes and that Ura had his mother's merciful and loving spirit.
"Ura, we must go." Jaka, the second eldest of their seven siblings, stood behind his older brother, gently reminding him of his duty.
Ura's role as a male and the next chief was to provide food for his tribe. He hunted, and he fished; anything that could feed his people. This made it bittersweet to pull the net out of the ocean to find this beautiful turtle.
Jaka kneeled down beside his brother and admired the creature. Though twisted and wrapped in the aging brown net, the turtle was relaxed as it looked at them.
"It is a beautiful turtle, Ura. We will have a grand feast tonight. The shell will make an excellent shield, and its skin—a lovely dress for our sister!"
Ura looked over at his brother, his mirror image, his twin, younger by just minutes; dark skin tanned from the sun, eyes as bright as the sea and the grass, and a smile that stretched from ear to ear. That same smile looked tight and grim on his brother's face. Jaka reached towards the turtle, eyes shining with hunger.
Ura shoved him over. "Don't touch her."
Jaka stared at him in shock and stood to shake the sand off.
Grains of sand fell in Ura's hair and onto his skin as he still stared at the turtle. "See you at the feast," he grumbled at his brother, dismissing him.
Without another sound, Jaka walked away to leave Ura staring into the eyes of his new friend. The heavy burden of being the eldest son sank in. He looked out onto the sea and let the somberness of responsibility crash into him.
"It's my responsibility to bring in the food to feed my village," he whispered out into the air. The sting of tears bit behind his lashes. "How can I bring you back to the village where you will no longer be the beautiful creature you are?"
Its bright green eyes swelled, reaching out to his spirit. The green swirled into the brown of the shining shell, dripping with water, hypnotizing him. Before Ura understood what was happening, the net was thrown away, and the turtle had reached the water.
Ura stood on weak knees as the waves began to slowly swallow the turtle, until it twisted its head to look back at him, waiting. His heart beat a cadence, pounding against his ribs as he heard the drums of the starting celebration.
"Go, you must go," he urged his friend, "before they come."
With the nod of the creature's head, time seemed to slow. Once again, he was mesmerized by the turtle's beauty, yet this beauty seemed strange to him.
A dust of sand swirled around the turtle, pushing back the blue water until it raged against an invisible wall. Before him, the animal he saved turned to him. It seemed to stand on two feet and grow.
Ura was too shocked to turn away from her. His lungs burned as he held his breath. His heart beat harder and faster, making him dizzy.
She reached one hand out to him. "Ura."
Ura opened his mouth to cry out, and the world turned black.
*
A great horrible screech tore from the air, jolting Ura out of his sleep.
"Calm down," drifted a voice from far off. "Everything will be okay."
The voice was familiar to his ears, though not one he thought he heard every day. He opened his eyes, and in the sky above was a small ball of sun, whiter than the sun he grew up loving. Yet this one did not burn his skin despite being so close and did not hurt his eyes as much to stare into it. A small ball of fire surrounded by a white sky. He strained his ears for the celebration feast but heard nothing.
This isn't home, Ura thought.
Again, his heart beat a cadence of his village drum as the pressure weighed on his chest. Like when his little brothers would pile on him in fun, he felt the air leaving his body as he tried to catch it. Then a small buzzing noise seeped into his head, hurting it. Slowly, Ura looked away.
"Such a strange sky," Ura mumbled to himself, struggling to sit up.
"It is not a sky, it is a ceiling," the voice said.
Ura didn't understand but looked back at the 'ceiling'. Then he turned away once more.
The surrounding room was white and bright enough to blind Ura as he tried to focus. It was round just like his hut, but the solid walls lacked a single gap to let light in. Tables shiny as the silver of the tradesmen from the north stood all throughout the room.
The room tilted and shook before Ura's eyes.
"Please, do not scream again."
Whoever was speaking to him sounded closer, sneaking up on him like a predator. Yet, he buried any fear, refusing to believe he needed to prepare himself for an attack.
"I do not wish to startle you again."
With every word, his heartbeat slowed; his labored breath quieted.
"What kind of sorcery is this?" Ura asked without turning. "The words I understand, but a voice with such a strange sound."
Ura sat still facing a door he hadn't seen before as he could feel the presence behind him still.
Something smooth ran across his hand and his hairs stood on end. A glint of light caught the corner of his eye.
I am the eldest son; he thought to himself; I will not be afraid.
Slowly, slower than he would admit, he looked up to who stood beside him. Wonderment filled his face, and confusion took his breath away.
"I do not know what 'sorcery' is, but I do not believe this is it. I would like to learn, though. All in good time."
Ura stared at the creature. Small, round, bright green eyes stared back into him, with waves of gold flowing throughout and a circle around each as black as coal after a fire.
"You are my turtle," he said.
A smile appeared from her lipless mouth as she said, "Yes."
Ura slowly lowered himself to the floor from his high makeshift bed to stand opposite the creature.
"I can explain," she offered.
She stood tall, taller than him, with arms as thin as bamboo. Her skin shone, too bronzed to be tanned, yet beautiful to Ura. Her neck was stunning, too: longer than any animal he'd ever seen. But it seemed natural as if it belonged perfectly to her body. She stood on two feet and talked to Ura in his language. She was so much like him, yet so different.
She smiled at him, and though it was not a smile like his own, he remained unafraid. Her face grew soft with few lines. She had a smooth round chin which flowed up into flat cheeks. He looked up to her eyes again, framed by lashes of white. There was a twinkling in them that invited him in; familiar, friendly orbs.
"What are you?" he asked.
"My name is Caxanderil, and I—"
The door burst open. This time Ura didn't fight his instincts and slipped into a fighting stance to face the intruders.
Two creatures with the same skin as Caxanderil strode in. They wore metal plates against their bodies between their clothes and chest, and Ura decided they were warriors. Their bodies were built thick, with chest wider than Caxanderil's. The pair towered over her, looking down as she looked up at them. They stood tense, with hands gripped around items attached at the waist.
The first warrior said something in a language that Ura could not understand. With a sound from his friend, both turned and exited the door.
Caxanderil turned back to Ura. "There is not much time. I will try to explain everything, but we will have to hurry."
She reached out her slender palms and gentle gaze.
"We must go to see the king."
*
The two warriors and Caxanderil led Ura down a wide, bright hallway. Doors stood on every side of the hall and between them, its walls filled with pictures. In between two doors was an image of a small man with his hand inside of his clothes and a funny headdress upon his head. Between the next two doors, the images showed more men standing together on steps, stabbing another man in his back. The men wore similar clothes to Caxanderil and the two warriors leading the way.
Looking at Caxanderil, he saw that her skin shone past the bright white of her dress, and Ura couldn't help but blush at the memory of how she looked naked at the beach. He admired the way her clothes draped over her strange but beautiful form. Ura's eyes slowly traveled up to hers, feeling heat rush to his face as she caught him looking at her body.
"We know some of your future," she said with a casual smile. "Well... what I mean is your world. B-but your future, too. We know what lies ahead for you," she stumbled over her words. Slender fingers ran over each other as she twitched in her nervousness. Her vision shifted from Ura to the warriors in front of her and then back to Ura. The closer they seemed to get to where they were going, the more she worried with her fingers.
"They're from the Roman Empire—our clothes, I mean. It's Father's favorite time period of yours. That's a time a good bit after your lifetime. For you, the Earth is still young."
Her fingers flew to the chains draped around her neck attached to a brilliant jewel set into her chest. He counted three fingers and a thumb, one less than his.
"You say very strange things," Ura told her, watching her fumble with the chains to her jewelry. "If this is a dream... I am not sure what it means."
All at once, Caxanderil yanked the jewel away, leaving a crater in her chest, and shoved him sideways into a room.
Ura felt his eyes bulge from his face as he realized what she'd done. He watched her slide the door shut as his heart pumped faster, putting him on guard. Caxanderil leaned against the door, catching her own breath.
Ura could barely push his voice out of his throat. "You... you just pulled that from your body?"
She looked up at him with a twinkle in her eyes. "You have seen a lot of new and wonderful things tonight, Ura of Sand Isle, and this scares you?"
She reached her hand out and slowly walked towards him. He looked down into her long, flat palm. The jewel came alive, pulsing in her hand. "It's a small computer made to look beautiful and identify me as royalty. When I set it in, it lets them know where I am, my blood pressure, and my heart rate. They will know if I am scared and come to get me."
"Is that not a good thing?"
"If they are not the one you are afraid of."
Ura wanted to reach out and console her, but he couldn't make himself lift his arm.
"Why would they do that?" he asked her. He looked up to her chest, where her skin peeked from her dress, and studied the crater. Ura found his hand moving of its own accord, to brush the chains which appeared to be braided into her skin. "This hurts you?"
For a moment there was a tense silence as Ura ran his fingers along Caxanderil's chain and she looked on.
"It's not bad," she gasped, voice becoming husky.
Ura's hand stilled as he allowed her voice flow over him, so strange but so familiar.
"What am I doing here?" he finally asked.
"Ura..." she started, "I have been watching you your entire life. My job is to help the human race. I don't know quite how to explain this."
Ura's hand slowly slid along her skin, enjoying the feel, before he dropped it to his side.
"My people are the Watchers. We have seen the birth of worlds and the destruction of them. Our honor is to help you grow as a world for as long as you can. And Earth, your planet, is my honor," she said, beseeching him to understand.
Ura stared at her, trying to understand all her words, but he couldn't comprehend what she was telling him.
"What you need to know, Ura, is that I tested you—to see if you were a good man. Three times I came to you; like an injured bear, an enemy, and as a sea turtle."
Ura stared at her wide-eyed as he remembered the bear. After a long day of hunting and finding absolutely nothing, he had stumbled across it, moaning loud enough to alert the entire tribe. All alone, Ura had seen the blood pooled below the bear and the trap wounding it. He remembered being so angry at such a tragedy, that someone had killed something so proud and majestic. So too had he been angry to recognize Jaka's handiwork in the trap itself.
Ura had saved that bear, though it would have been an easy kill. No one had ever known what saved Ura and the ancestors. Ura didn't remember the enemy, but he could never kill another man, no matter what wrong he committed. Even the murder of a family member would not warrant that kind of hatred from him.
"And when it would have benefited you to kill me, you saved me, as well, and that makes you a good man. However, I broke the rules."
Caxanderil paced the room, worrying with the pulsing jewel that changed colors. "I broke a very important rule, Ura. And that is never to reveal yourself and never to... never to fall in love with those we watch."
She refused to look at him as she continued her pacing, and Ura's skin flushed and burned. He could not believe the words she spoke. Though everything fascinated him about her duties, her declaration of love took him aback.
We just met, he thought to himself.
"But I do, Ura of the Sand Isle. I did, and you fainted, and I couldn't leave you there. I had to—had to—help you. And I brought you here and—oh my ancestor... Father is going to kill me—he's going to kill you!"
Ura shot up from where he was slowly melting into his chair, watching Caxanderil ramble.
"No man will kill me; he can try," Ura said, puffing his chest.
Just as the Caxanderil stopped pacing to look at him, the door burst open violently as another pair of warriors appeared.
"The king is waiting," spoke one, coming into the room. "Let's go."
*
Never in his life had Ura seen such an array of colors of people, all in one room. Not even when the barbarians from the North came to marry their youngest daughter to his youngest brother. He scanned everyone in the room. Some looked at him with disgust and others with wonder.
But the most intimidating by far was the figure at the front of the room.
Towering over the rest of the people was a chair, much like Ura's father's, but the man sitting in it commanded much more presence. The gray-skinned man, as gray as Caxanderil's hair, sat wrinkled in the chair looking like a ghost, decorated in jewels and robes.
"Explain yourself, daughter," said the figure, filling the room with his voice.
"My lord," Caxanderil said. She bowed low, twisting her body in ways Ura had never seen. "Could we talk in private?"
"Explain yourself!"
His voice thundered through the room, making Caxanderil stiffen; Ura fell to his knees, and the surrounding creatures whispered and snickered.
Caxanderil bowed even lower and pressed her forehead to the floor. Ura stared at his friend and felt enraged at her humiliation, but scared of this man on the throne.
"I wish..." Caxanderil started, closing her eyes. "I wish to marry him."
The room exploded with voices as Ura snapped his head to her. Arms waved through the air as voices screeched, and the figure stood up.
"Silence," he whispered.
Instantly, the room fell silent, though Ura wasn't sure how they all had heard the lord.
"We have a guest. We shall speak his language, and no one will speak out of turn," he said. The king stalked down the steps from his raised throne, his long gray hair flowing after him like a bride's veil. "You have disrespected our laws, and by showing yourself to him, you have forever changed Earth. For this dear daughter, I must punish you."
Ura expected an uproar, but no one made a sound as Caxanderil's body went limp against the floor.
"You are the daughter of our people. You had responsibilities, and you failed us," the king said. "Stand, Caxanderil of the Watchers and Ura of the Sand Isle, and face your punishment."
Ura's heart broke as he saw Caxanderil stand, body slumped in defeat. He knew how it felt to upset his father and to see that disappointment in his eyes. The injured black bear he nursed back to health, the traitorous Northman he showed mercy to, and the turtle today were all a disappointment to his people. And here they were, with Caxanderil facing the same fate.
The king walked back to his throne, his age showing in his shaking limbs and groaning joints as he sat. So human, Ura thought, but not human.
"Ura of the Sand Isle," the king said, piercing him with his strange purple eyes. "The choice will be yours. You can stay here, marry my daughter, and in time, rule the Watchers. However, eventually, your prosperous tribe will die. Or, you can go back to your world, and I can promise you that you will have a family line till the end of your time." The king's eyes shifted upward as he said this, and the leer on his face made Ura uneasy.
"But know this; if you choose to go back to your home... Caxanderil will not be allowed to marry again for the shame of this scandal. Marriage is a sacred right in our world, to be without... is indescribable pain and humiliation."
"Father—"
With a wave of his hand, Caxanderil shut her mouth, and with grim eyes, she looked to Ura.
Ura's heart began to speed and time seemed to slow yet again, as he looked back at Caxanderil. His choices were to save his tribe or to save his new friend this embarrassment. Her green-gold eyes pleaded with him as she began to shake. He had saved her so many times without knowing it because he loved the beauty of nature's animals and the flaws of the people around him. But could he save this beautiful creature and doom his family?
"I am sorry. I-I am sorry," he said to Caxanderil, and then to the king. "But I would like to go home."
Caxanderil didn't sink to the floor, and the room didn't erupt into outrage, but something broke, and what Ura imagined was a tear slid down the king's face.
"Caxanderil," the king said in barely a whisper, "take him back."
*
They walked together in silence as Caxanderil led him into another room next to the court. She didn't look at him, and he didn't look at her.
"Here," Caxanderil said, sweeping her hand over the room and pointing out a machine. She walked over to it, pressing the side to make it open up for Ura. "This will take you home."
Ura stepped inside, feeling surrounded by the bright white walls circling around. A white bench was below him, and he sat. The cold from it seeped through his clothes and into his skin. Looking up, he saw the same light he thought was a sun earlier. How much he'd learned in such little time.
"Here," she said again, standing in front of him. "It's from the king."
He lowered his face from the light and looked at her, right below her eyes to avoid the hatred dripping off of her as she handed him a box. "Please—" her voice broke. "Please do not open this."
Ura took the box, staring down at it and away from her, ignoring the brush of their fingers. She walked back to the entrance of the room and behind white panels, he hadn't noticed.
"Just relax," she said as the machine around him whirred to life.
Light slid in front of him, back and forth as strange noises sounded off in his ear. Frantically, he looked around him.
"Goodbye, Prince Ura."
*
White lights flashed, blinding him, and when he opened his eyes to say goodbye to her, his breath caught. A warm breeze drifted across his skin. As he looked upon the beach, he knew it was his home.
Ura's heart soared when he saw the sea he had grown to love, but, immediately his elation came crashing down. The blue sea he had known since his childhood days was now dark green and smelled of something he couldn't place, but did not like.
Everywhere he turned were men and women and children. Some tan as him, some as white as the North men, some as dark as the cocoa beans they traded. Ura's mind reeled as he took in everything around him.
Father must have sent the tribes to look for me, he thought. Nodding his head to himself, he picked up his box and turned to run into the trees to return home.
But the trees were gone.
Ura sank to his knees.
The sand flowed up to a hill to grass. Unfamiliar white and silver square huts touched the sky, and things with strange wheels congregated in front of the strange huts. Ura wanted to cry, but keep it in, knowing his father wouldn't approve. He saw that not one tree was in sight, and the sky went on for miles, and nowhere did he see his tribe.
The sand dug into Ura's shins.
For the first time in his life, he hated the feel of it.
Turning to sit with the king's box, Ura looked at all of the invaders on his beach and began to despise them.
He clutched the box, thinking about Caxanderil and all the times he'd saved her life, hating himself for not being the son the tribe needed and getting into all this trouble, hating the king for lying to him.
The box Caxanderil gave him began to vibrate, and in his despair, he opened it without hesitation.
A soft bud of light sat in the bottom of the box. He could not tear his gaze away from it as it slowly began to swirl. It began to paint a picture in the box, and he felt no fear as it filled and spilled over into his hands.
"Do you see that old man," came a woman's voice from nearby. "The one staring at his box, mumbling to himself?"
Ura's heartbeat slowed, and his lungs began to strain as he found it more difficult to breathe. He shifted his eyes to the side as far as they would allow him, and he saw his hands and arms now spotted and wrinkled, thin and bruised like his tribe elder as the light slowly swallowed his limbs.
Can she not see the light? Will she not help, he thought. I'm dying.
"What old man, dear?" a man asked.
"That one right there."
Ura continued to stare at his arm, no longer seeing the light that enveloped him, but just himself slowly turning old. His lungs still burned, and he could hardly hear the beat of his slow heart in his ears.
He watched his own skin blow away from his bones in the soft breeze over the sea. With a quick prayer to the ancestors, he made peace with his death. He slowly looked up, made eye contact with a woman, and smiled until he couldn't see anything else.
"Oh my gosh, did you see that?"
"See what?"
"The old man, just... he just blew away. His whole body, just... pfft with the wind."
The pale man looked up at his wife as he reapplied his sunscreen. "Maybe you had too many drinks last night, Christine," he said to her.
"Hm... maybe I am seeing things," she laughed.
"Daddy look, look," a child called, running up to the pale man. "A turtle in the water!"
The little girl pointed towards the sea, and the couple followed the child's finger. "Look at that, Christine... that turtle is huge!" said the man. "Let's go catch it!"