Chapter Text
The seedy districts of Shanghai disappeared every year under the onslaught of the new building. For the little kids as Alatus the poetic nicknames "Pearl of the Orient" and "Paris of the East", heard from tourists could in no way be associated with slums, spread far from the center. Two-story houses that stood on parole, narrow streets dotted with people constantly preparing and buying food, noise and evening bustle, were a small part of what remained imprinted in the memory of Alatus. To the surprise of the boy, his father was unusually quiet. He tightly squeezed the miniature palm, as if fearing the escape of an eight-year-old child. Family outings were not part of their lives.
"Father, how long do we have to go?"
The voice sounded plaintive, because of which the man spat in annoyance, grabbing his son comfortably and tightly with his hand. The question was forced - by the standards of Alatus; they walked for quite a long time. Unknown houses, strangers, unusual sounds replaced each other many times. All this was extremely exhausting. Alatus looked down at his feet, not wanting to look around. The environment and behavior of the father were alien, instilling growing fear. Therefore, when the man called him, the boy continued to drill the ground with his eyes. It was only by glancing back that he noticed a run-down building and a middle-aged woman walking slowly towards them.
“That will be better for you,” his father whispered.
Alatus swallowed softly as women`s fingers stroked his cheeks and chin, forcing his head up. The childe thought that fingers captured his throat, forever remaining there. The pursed women`s lips stretched into a pleased smirk.
“The eyes really are like amber in the sun,” the stranger commented, straightening the hem of her dress. “The fee has not changed.”
The boy's father threw out his hand, intercepting a purse with money thrown by a woman. Alatus stared in amazement at his father, who took two bottles of booze and then walked past the boy without looking back. The last thing he said to him was, “I don't think she could forgive me. But it will be better this way.”
The stranger woman enjoyed what was happening, watching everything with a smile.
Alatus looked into the distance, not knowing what to do next. Something told him to run after his father, but the look of this strange woman did not give him the opportunity to move.
"He won't be back," she replied, reading the child's silent question. – You`ve been sold."
Too fast. Everything happened too fast.
***
"Madam" - this is how this woman behaved. In the house (if it could be called that), the child met drafts, peeled mattresses on the bare floor and four pairs of eyes staring at him in surprise. Children. From them Alatus learned the rules of survival in this place. As for the "madam" - she turned out to be a fortuneteller, well known in narrow circles.
She was about thirty years old; her black hair was gathered in a high bun. The boy doesen`t want to remember her face and her at all. Each time he tried to look away from her face - it was unbearable to look at her lips twisted into a smirk. The most frightening were the eyes clinging to you.
“Your father said that you know how to devour dreams,” his squinted gaze clung to the boy’s slightest movements with a squint; my mouth was dry and my body was trembling. “This is true?”
Alatus silently opened his mouth, his tongue numb and pressed against the palate, his throat constricted suffocatingly. Sounds stuck in his chest. He intended to say something, but he could not utter a word. The woman furrowed her eyebrows in indignation, shaking her head indignantly.
“You must answer my questions. You are my commodity, so you must behave appropriately,” - the voice rose a couple of tones higher. “I'm not going to collect a worthless boy for nothing.”
A cold hand burned his thin cheeks with a ringing blow. Alatus sighed muffledly, clutching the sore spot with his palm. Heavy tears rolled up to his eyes. The woman is constantly mockingly studded him.
“Answer if you do not want it to happen again.”
He stepped back, collecting his thoughts. “What happens if I tell the truth? She definitely will not let me go. However, if I lies, she will throw me away. ” For a couple of seconds, silence hung in the room, broken by childish, hateful sobs to Alatus. With a low, treacherous whining voice, he broke the oppressive silence.
"It's true," he sighed heavily.
An unhealthy gleam flickered in her brown eyes. Perhaps it was from a motorbike passing through the window; it does not matter at all. The boy became even more uncomfortable. After wiping his tears from the bottom of a blue, frayed T-shirt, he silently stared at the floor, waiting for the actions of the “mad”.
***
The crumbling mattress quickly began to look like a soft bed. A hand, soft sheets - holey rags, replaced a feather pillow. A breakfast - dried bread, which was divided between five heads, a warm lunch - everything that can be found on the street, dinner - when it was at all. Work, a lot of work every day tirelessly. Some of the children "worked part-time" as a cripple, begging for alms, some were taken to brothel houses or to rich people. It could be said with this stretch that that “workers” were a little more fortunate: the person has more profit with them; she counted the earned money for herself and gave a couple of banknotes for survival to those children. To the regret of two boys who, in their words, work in the "adult industry", the younger ones also wanted to work there.
“It’s much easier to lie with some uncle under the covers, and then you’re writhing in the cold street in the depths, begging!” - Once shouted one of the smallest, frowning angrily at the person who came early in the morning.
The slap from the always quiet and peaceful Kuan Goh was unexpected and therefore terribly painful, according to Alatus. He himself silently watched from the side; do not know what to do. “Perhaps, I will ease his suffering,” flashed through his head and was immediately forgotten in the routine of the same day.
“You still don’t know a lot of things, so shut up, if you’re so smart.”
From now on, this topic was not raised among them. Nevertheless, envy hasn't gone away. The madam was more lenient towards the boys, who worked at an adult job. She fed a little better, in order to get rid of her increased thinness; she allowed them to sleep for an hour, or even two times more, with inflammation of bruises under her eyes. These children, it can be considered, were the face of her "company". They were about sixteen. Boys with attractive appearance: big eyes, pleasant complexion and black, like a crow's wing, hair and face with no scratches or damage left by the "madam". They were sympathized and envied at the same time.
An overwhelming desire to help did not allow one to sit still peacefully, forcing thoughts to get confused and intertwined. The constant question: "Is it worth it?" - Alatus only once checked their nightmares, seeing Kuan tossing in a dream. He had never tasted such a vile taste mixed with street dirt and dust. A bitter and sticky feeling poisoned his soul for several days. Rough hands roaming freely all over the body, feigned kind smiles, nasty lips that strove to kiss. Inevitability. That is what scared in this situation. After eating that nightmare, Alatus curled up into a ball, wrapping his arms around his legs. Kuan Goh fell asleep peacefully for the first time in months. The nightmare never returned to him, burying itself in the body of a eight-year-old child. Then, for a long time the tears rolled down cheeks of Alatus in a hail, and he, unable to stop them, he tried to fall asleep and get to his "home".
***
"Home". Alatus had a home, a place where you always want to return. Where you are surely loved and expected. But only no one expected him and did not like him.
There was no one.
The subspace formed by itself was always empty, in rare cases birds and insects appeared there, often-outlandish butterflies and fabulous peacocks, once and somewhere seen by Alatus.
This place was always calm and peaceful; food and water were not required here. Perhaps a paradise for a lonely person. However, the golden-eyed boy had an immense desire to make friends and help anyone he could. Therefore, slowly and gradually, the green meadow spread farther and farther, leaving behind a wasteland. The firmament began to illuminate the rising or setting sun, softly playing with the shadow of spreading trees. The fields have acquired outfits - wild, freedom-loving flowers. Fast streams flowed into crystal clear rivers. Life in this world proceeded imperceptibly for the rest. Here Alatus easily caught his breath, for a couple of moments forgetting about the outside world, to which he was doomed to return every day. Nevertheless, the nightmares got him here too. They took on human form and with all their hatred tried to bite into the body of a little boy. Then he fled back to the Wasteland - no one is able to exist here, except for him alone.
“Why, why did I get this bestowal?”
The hands tightened around his neck.
“Why do they want my help so badly?”
He felt sad and lonely in my heart from such thoughts. After all, Alatus was not to blame for the illegibility of the Gods, who inadvertently gave the gift of the spirit of Baku to a mortal. However, it was for him to pay the price. All the nightmares eaten gradually ate him from the inside. Thus, the help given to people free of charge cursed him herself. Not fair. To one of the Gods, this seemed extremely unfair. Why the little child should pay off for his kindness and innocence. Broken destinies and do not count. All he could do was give his blessing in the hope that it would help Alatus in the right way.
***
Alatus was the second boy to be taken to the master's quarters. But, to his delight, not for carnal pleasures. Nightmares. Countless nightmares poisoned his soul day after day. More food did not satisfy his hunger. Luxurious mansions, rooms furnished with sky-high expensive and high-quality furniture, dresses made of expensive and delicate fabrics. Everything was full of colors, playing with colors, slowly turning gray in the eyes of the "devourer". "A new nightmare. How will it taste? - The only interesting action of Alatus.
The madam was unhappy with such a quick receipt of previously partly living toys.
“So it won’t work, only a year has passed, the demand for you is growing, I feed and began to dress you better than all the garbage put together. And you can't even squeeze a smile out of yourself in front of high-ranking guests.
"I'm sorry," Alatus said softly, looking down at the floor.
Terrible dreams came to his soul in that world and slowly choked him, whispering curses in his ear. Upon awakening, their voices turned into an annoying noise, growing in complete silence. Physically, he did not suffer in any way, only morally and mentally, having long ceased to pray to the Gods for mercy. Well-being is not important, nothing is important, except for eating dreams. He is healthy and can walk and talk. What else does a hostess need? Pretense? He will try to please. And he could. A soft smile played on his exhausted face as he met and escorted the gentlemen to their chambers. Even as they fell asleep, Alatus continued to smile as he ate on another dream. The days went by, a large number of people found out about the boy with the gift of Baku. And everyone wanted to make sure the veracity of the rumors.
The rescue. An unfamiliar eccentric greets him when the young devourer returns home with Goh.
"I will help you. I just need to make sure you're the boy with the golden eyes. Eat my nightmare and I'll help you."
His eyes lit up with hope. Goh stared in amazement at smile of Alatus, perhaps the first in a year and a half that wasn't forcedly feigned. He tried to dissuade him, but Alatus did not listen to him.
On a dark night, he went to the place that the man had appointed. Alatus ate the nightmare quickly, almost choking on rot and the heaviness of dreams. However, nothing happened. The next day the stranger did not come to the yard, also no one was looking for a boy with golden eyes in the market, and did not let lead about his self. In anticipation, the following days passed, after - weeks. Two months later, Alatus stopped waiting and hoping for rescue. He understood one thing: to trust strangers is to make yourself worse.
***
As time went on, the blessing sent by God began to start. At first, it slowly acquire physical features - its thoughts and desires. It began to hear the endless thoughts of the child's mind, shattered and fragile, resembling an overflowing glass of water - a couple more drops, and the water dissolves. It felt heaviness in the region of the ephemeral heart and an annoying sensation of pain, burning through the body. At the end, blessing took on the form of a man and opened amber eyes to the singing of birds.
Quiet footsteps echoed across the Wasteland, alerting the owner that a stranger had arrived. At first, the boy could not believe his ears. Intrusive images remained in sprawling meadows and breathtaking valleys, driving Alatus back into the darkness. If someone was here, then this is a raging fantasy playing a cruel joke with him. He sat up and folded his legs under him. His eyes picked out a tall figure out of the darkness, cloudy in a simple robe. Without having time to say anything, the shadow disappeared. “Did it seem?” - The question wandered in his head for a long time. Alatus tried to find somebody but in addition to golden flowers, nothing was found at the place of the departed.
“How…?”
Thin fingers gently touched the petals. A light touch and slight pressure proved they were real. The flowers were real. Outside this place, they were commonplace, but here - never before the Wastelands acquired wondrous beauty.
The slender figure appeared several more times, until the boy's patience came to naught:
“Who you are?” - Asked Alatus, fearlessly and with mock indifference.
Stranger did not answer, looking around with interest. The saving corner was filled with darkness not to the brim - a weak light gathered around the boy, which barely noticed the arriving guest. A young and stately man of high stature, such were rarely seen among the inhabitants. He saw a lot of people just a couple of times - foreigners hanging around the streets of Shanghai.
Sparse flowing hair, a straight nose and thin lips - all that Alatus managed to see from afar. Today the figure did not move. From the unaccustomed tension, the ears were blocked.
“Who?”
Soft as velvet, the voice inadvertently interrupted the speaker.
“I'm sorry, but I don't know it myself.”
This was clearly not the answer Alatus expected. Invented colorful nonsense about his arrival and the purpose of the journey in a dream - that's what should have been expressed now. However, by no means unknowing of oneself.
“Are you seriously?”
“Completely.”
The stranger took a couple of steps towards him, sat down neatly beside the devourer and greeted him kindly.
“From what I've learned from my time here, you're the owner of this place. Perhaps I am your creation or something else, I, alas, don`t know it. If you want, I can tell you how I ended up here.”
Amber. It seems to the boy that the eyes of men are like real amber. Indeed, the soul of the tiger played with colors in the eyes of this man. In ancient China, it was believed that after the death of a cunning and cautious predator into the ground, and there it turns into a sun stone. Now she has acquired life in the existing, sitting opposite the owner of the same eyes. But meeting with someone Alatus did not even think that she would certainly lose. Waving aside those who were sure of finding thoughts, he moreover declared:
“It would be nice.”
The story of the incessant thoughts, painfully reminiscent of the boys' own, was the first mite in the relationship that arose between them. Perhaps, this stranger really gave rise to his fantasy, or the hypnosis of the Lady, in order to break the boy completely. The last one was the hardest to believe. Too zealously and independently looked like this man.
“It seems that I remembered my name,” the interlocutor leaned towards the sprouts.
“Truth?”
He slowly nodded his head.
“Morax. Maybe, that's what my name is.”
“Understood,” the boy propped up his hand, continuing to look at the man with interest."My name is Alatus."
“Pleased to meet you,” - the corners of the lips, stretched in a slight smile, were quickly hidden behind the tight sleeve of a light shirt. Quiet laugh.
"Is he making fun of me?"
For some reason, slimy fingers, barely loosening their grip, seemed like a feeling of relief, allowing him to breathe deeper.
“Our acquaintance turned out to be very strange,” said Morax, removing his sleeve from his face. The Devourer grunts sarcastically as he stands up to stretch his legs, “It will be dawn soon, and you will leave this place again.”
The boy turns around, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "To consider it in the light of day." He stops. It will not work - the creatures will quickly attack him. Not fair. He is locked in the primal darkness and must be intimate with them.
“I don't completely trust you.”
Alatus tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. A moment's silence.
“That`s normal. In time, we will both learn to trust each other. I will await you’re return, Alatus.”
The fingers squeeze harder - they remind that they exist, and then the grip weakens.
The boy nods. Ignoring the man, he lay onto his back, crossing his arms over his stomach and closing his eyes. The hope that the stranger will suddenly leave him forever will remain only a hope.
***
“Morax?”
The name on the exhale sounds alarming.
“But how?”
The peaceful face, the hair gathered in a thin ponytail, the belted shirt - everything was uncomplicated. Why, behind the edge of darkness in the rays of the rising sun, did a man have a partly majestic or even divine appearance? Perhaps the boy would have examined him further, but behind the cloudy dome, he could not see him better. "Who is he anyway?"
“I was wondering what lies beyond this place.” Morax gestures toward the Wasteland. “It’s very beautiful here; would you like to keep me company?”
The Devourer swallows saliva, then in the floor of his voice announcing:
“I cannot.”
Hands involuntarily clench into fists, nails painfully dig into the skin. Many thoughts are spinning in his head, among them it clearly and distinctly breaks out:
"Not fair."
He squints, hoping to ward off the vision. There was no physical contact between them, only conversations. Therefore, Morax is a fake, a vision, or a nightmare that somehow managed to infiltrate the Wasteland.
“But he…”
Doesn't add up. All hypotheses were logically refuted, confusing more than ever. The heart is beating fast, pounding in the temples. There is a high probability that they are trying to drag the devourer there so that the shadows attack him. He wants to hurt himself by creating an unreal entity that traps him. "But where are the flowers from?" Alatus squints harder, until his eyes flash.
"Not fair"
The flow of thought interrupts the touch. A stranger`s warm palm covers the whitened knuckles, proving the reality of the person standing opposite. Goosebumps run down his back.
“If you are afraid to cross the line, you can close your eyes and take my hand. I will guide you,” - velvety, like honey, the voice covers the ears. The devourer hesitates, not answering.
"He is real…"
“Don't be afraid, Alatus.”
“I’m not afraid,” the boy replies mentally, shifting from foot to foot.
Comfort. That's what was important for him in this situation. The Wasteland envelops with its blackness, closing from the light of the world beyond, taking away the remnant of regrets about the impossibility of walking among the sprawling fields. Moreover, most importantly - saved from nightmares. With the advent of Morax, the sun's rays increasingly brightened their way through the ghostly dome. Now the man could admire everything that Alatus had created for himself. “And let…” The boy takes a deep breath, focusing on the feel of his hands.
“N-no.”
The devourer is ready to fight back: to sink his teeth into the flesh, to push away, to wake up. However, no pressure. The man pats him on the head and walks away. A man's shirt is visible through half-open eyelashes.
“As you say so.”
Fists unclenched - legs almost to the blood tore the skin. Morax touched him no more.
"Not fair"
Slimy fingers press harder on the throat.
***
They meet every night, often spending time silently with another friend. The boy occasionally talks about the world outside the Wasteland, what places Morax can visit. Dry and short - as taught. Without unnecessary words, unnecessary emotions, unnecessary gestures. Even in complete solitude, he observed the rules carved on the soul with pain.
There were more and more flowers every night. Miniature plots and then full-fledged clearings are filled with Wasteland. Instead of an intangible floor, there was grass. The dome of darkness grew thinner.
“Alatus.”
The boy gets a little annoyed as he looks up from looking at the young sprouts. He looks at the tall man sitting behind him.
"I thought. You can walk through the Wasteland on the edge, and I'll be behind it."
"Again he talks about the same..."
This time, the proposal seemed more appealing than before.
"If you don't want it, I won't insist."
"Want?"
There were no desires.
They didn't exist at all. With precise instructions, life was easier: you clearly know the requirements of the owner. Ordinary needs, like thirst and hunger, Alatus satisfied in small quantities, there was no other way. The last, most likely most likely desire was not to cross the line. But nothing more. That woman constantly gave out limited instructions in the work, not offering to express her displeasure or other thoughts. The devourer could not have everything with him, so he killed any desires that arose in the bud. From this word “you want”, it rang so strongly in my ears.
The gaze moves from side to side. For a long time, the question remains unanswered, until a barely audible; "come on" escapes the boy's mouth.
“Good,” Morax nods, holding out his hand to Alatus. Rising slightly, Alatus grabs it. The palm gives off heat to the icy body. He's still not used to it.
Led by Morax, Alatus never takes his eyes off the approaching edge of light. The fingers are unclenched - the boy stops a few meters from the saving line, the man goes further.
“Let's go to?”
Step by step, they slowly move along the borders. The man folded his hands behind his back, turned his head to the side, does not give the opportunity to know the true color of the eyes of Alatus, who is constantly studying him.
"Want…"
From that night, their walks began. They were partly dull, filled with the distant singing of birds and the whispers of nightmares. Nevertheless, it was because of them that the boy began to feel a little better. Next to Morax, the realities of that world were forgotten, dreams became reality.
***
Morning greeted with a cool breeze of wind, meeting the half-open fortress. The leaden ages are only slightly opened, letting look around. The same white peeled ceiling, damp walls and the head of Kuan Guo at hand. Intrusive shadows in an undertone are dangerous about retribution; slimy hands choke a little more. Alatus blinks - trying to recover. As usual, it doesn't help. The boy squeezes and unclenches his numb fingertips, swallows saliva and trying to rise on his elbows without hitting the sleeping man. The head is a little dizzy, the leg are cramped; eyebrows converge on the bridge of the nose, the mouth opens in a silent scream - the last nightmare was particularly strong and has continued to this day. Such clients Alatus liked least of all - driven in their own fear, hurting themselves.
The body continues to ache, breath catches in the chest - the devourer begins to suffocate. Kuan opens his sleepy eyes, rubbing them. The place of Alatus is empty again, a reflection of a barely perceptible remnant of warmth. “He ran away again,” thought the young man, earlier laying back on the leaky mattress. The devourer stands under the door of the house, convulsively smoothing out his sleep-rumpled shirt. The heart is beating wildly, loud breathing cuts the ears, the eyes are slightly closed, and the face remains imperturbable. No one should see him weak and helpless, especially people who lived for a long time next to him.
Alatus rolls up his sleeves, washing his face with rainwater from a basin. Today is Thursday, the day the madam comes to personally give orders. She appeared early in the morning, not depriving herself of the right to make caustic comments on the side of the boys. Slow steps behind - she came.
“Alatus,” a haughty voice calls out to him. The throat at the moment rises in a lump, the shoulders straighten, the gaze rushes to the floor. Each of her arrivals carried with it the burden of the work ahead, each time more and more difficult.
“I'm listening, Mrs,” he walks a couple of steps towards her, bowing in a friendly bow. She looks expectantly - the devourer has imagined it.
“We have a very important client, so be ready to have a tea ceremony.”
He steps back, still refusing to make eye contact. The woman chuckles as she leaves the house. For a few more seconds, the boy stands in a bow, looking at the drops of water flowing down his hands.
"Important…"
The madam called such clients either foreign businessmen with a large amount of money, or nobles from wealthy families in China. The tea ceremony was held in both cases - to show skill and increase the value of the devourer in the eyes of customers. The Lady herself taught this craft to the boy, also watching his speech and manners. Any disobedience or violation was punished, from which Alatus quickly learned everything. The price of the toy grew with his age and acquired skills. The madam was clearly going to put Kuan Goh on the boy's future training. She casually mentioned services that Alatus, due to her age, does not yet provide, but in a year or two, she may begin. He still remembered Kuan's once-eaten nightmare: a sore throat every time he talked about adult work. It was scary to provide services of this nature.
In the evening of the same day, a pale blue qipao hugged the shoulders of the devourer, symbolizing the beginning of a new work. This time the customer was an elderly gentleman, dressed in a red hanfu, girded with a black sash. Beside him sat two women, the older one perhaps the wife, the younger one the daughter. They all sat silently at a small table in the middle of the living room filled with yellow and gold colors, carefully watching the tea ceremony led by Alatus.
Bowls were neatly arranged on a bamboo tea tray. Porcelain dishes were warmed up and rinsed with boiling water, the boy had to put a couple of grams of tea and wash it from dust in an empty teapot. Through a sieve, he pours water into bowls. Repeats the action, only this time he offers tea to the gentlemen. When words of praise fall from the customer's lips, a feigned smile stretches across the boy's face. The madam is pleased with this arrangement - her eyes sparkle from under half-closed eyelids.
The master begins the story of his nightmares without going into details, and hastily speculates on what they could have come from. Soon the boy is led along the painted corridors along the small windows to the bedroom. Antiques, soft featherbeds, gilded vases do not arouse Alatus's interest: too often they flashed before his eyes, having lost their value. Entering the room, his gaze clings to the figurine of a tiger standing on the bedside table.
"Morax."
He became the first association. In his waking hours, the boy had no time to think about the stranger who had arrived in his utopia. However, for some reason, right here and now, the name of the man was spinning on the tongue. Whether the color of the eyes of that person was amber, the boy could not say for sure. Alatus and the madam sat in the chambers, waiting for the gentleman who had been away for a couple of minutes.
“This client wanted you to stay all night,” the woman announces coldly. “But don't forget that tomorrow afternoon you have to accompany me to the meeting.”
“Yes,” whispers the devourer, nodding.
The door opens and several people enter the bedroom. An aged man and someone behind him, the boy cannot understand whom - the madam blocks the view.
“I'm sorry, I forgot to warn you,” the elderly Gentleman turns around, revealing a view of the person standing behind him. Golden-eyed he would move a little forward and froze: a peaceful face, hair gathered in a thin ponytail, a shirt girded with a belt - everything was uncomplicated.
“My old friend would like to attend the night procession. He's really curious about how you deal with the damned shadows. Would you mind?”
“Of course not,” the madam smiles softly.
“How nice. Please, come in, dear friend.”
A young handsome man of high stature bows in a slight bow.
"Perhaps I'm dreaming?"
The boy could definitely say that the newcomer's eyes were like amber in the rays of the dazzling sun.
The fingers squeeze the throat with triple force.
The stranger raises his head, looking at Alatus. It's hard to believe, but it was a reality - the boy pinched himself hard. In the next moments, the sound seems to disappear - the ears hurt painfully. Only the remnants of the phrase thrown by the young man reach the devourer:
“My name is Zhong Li.”