She was there again, for the third time this week, though she knew she shouldn't, though giving up on finding him was not an option currently.

The Strive in Kinnos was just like the Strive in any other province in Qardis, inhabiting the people who could barely afford to live inside the wall. But they were also the late children of their forefathers, those who concertedly complied to live under the rule of a government. And so this was their reward, a life of serenity and structure within the enclosure of the Girdle, where none of them would have to endure the threatening survival of life under anarchy beyond the frontiers. This was their promise, the united creed that held all the nine provinces of Qardis together. Yet walking through the streets, she felt the provinces were already at the brink of collapse, the promise that had held them together long faded away.

The gravel on the roads was brittle and as unstable as her hood that kept falling off. Hale followed the path she knew by memory for the longest time now, evading the sight of the worn-out houses and all the people casting curious glances her way. She kept her head low and hopped into a narrow thoroughfare over a puddle. The ground refused to forget yesterday's soft rain. But Hale's mind clouded with one and the only serious concern at hand, and the hem of her hooded robe sweeping over the mud under her quickened footsteps were the least of her complications. However she couldn't ignore the serene normality of the people's lives in the Strive, something that was seldom seen in the Prime.

A couple of loud giggling children sprinted past her, one of them chasing the other with a beetle he must've found in the mud. Even the peacocks seemed to enjoy the bliss of the Strive, hunting for food in the crevices and cracks of stone on the road and walls, plucking the beetles from their hiding place. On another avenue, a mother gracefully balanced a dainty basket of corn on her elbow as she crossed the bridge from the farmer's market; a sprawling horizontal hut housing an array of bustling stalls, teeming with Strivers passionately proclaiming the prices of fruits and crops like each transaction was a momentous occasion. She caught a boy in a dirty brown vest forevowing to a girl by the doorstep of a distant tavern they just exited from. Hale wished she knew the joy on the girl's face, longing to feel the sense of those emotions she was feeling, just to rediscover the genuine excitement she once knew, the happiness she once cherished when she had Xerach beside her.

Was this the burden to be born in the Prime? A life of opulence but never one of content? A life of wealth but never satisfied? A life where she was promised she'd have everything but was a lie? Perhaps she should've run away with Xerach that day when he looked at her for the last time. She still remembered his eyes, the way he looked at her like he had never looked at anyone before, the way she felt the softness of his palm on her young cheek before he drew it away.

She wished Pappe would recruit a Thirdhand to search for him, but it'd be of no use. The Ironhands would have arrested him by any means possible. They were relentless, and committed to maintaining order in the Provinces that would leave no stone unturned in the entire land to hunt the last dreamer to exist.

Yet there was an undying hope, a subtle flame inside her, that Xerach might have escaped the Monocle's clutches, evaded from their frightening pursuit at least—a hopeless—delusional endeavour that urged her to visit the Strive in search of him, now that she was fifteen and permitted to explore out of home by herself. But if not him, she had no better reasons to not stay in the house, especially not with Alwold. However, walking the streets without a paid escort still disturbed her bones.

She walked past the confectionery stores, sucking in a deep breath, revelling in the warm afternoon air mixed with the smells of Marzipan, Halva and hot chocolate from the confectionaries further down the alley. As she neared the artifacts shop, she inadvertently stroked the polished jewel—a Black Tulip pendant framed in silver resting above her chest—the only trace of her mother's memory remaining, a trinket with a dark story just as its glistening facets.

The bell rang when she stepped into the shop, and there she met the old man again.

"Something for me today as well, Seyin Hale?"

Hale lowered her hood, and drew out a small silver ring from her pocket.

The man studied the ring, then looked at her. A curious smile stretched on his face. "What anecdote would you like me to entertain you with today?" he said, continuing to polish a brass goblet and placing it amongst the extensive array of artifacts behind him on the shelves.

"Has it become obvious?"

"A Primer continually visiting an antique store in the Strive while there are better establishments in the Prime to pawn such prized ornamentations does leave one guessing about their motives."

Hale stopped a sigh from escaping, refusing to acknowledge the accuracy of his deduction. "I had been thinking about what you said last week," she spoke instead, shifting the conversation. "Do you still have the ornament I gave away then?"

"The Whitestone?"

"No, the one with a blue gem on top."

"The iron ring? Why ask, Seyin?"

"You told me something about that gem fixed on it."

He stared at her, then moved away from the counter to one of the cupboards in the far corner to bring it out. He returned with a small box, pulling out the ring where a deep blue gemstone was fixed on its head. She didn't ask him to bring it out though.

"This is Lapis. A rare stone mined in the deserts of Zorra Kesh, then forged in Blackgarden where the merchants from Qardis bought it to embellish the royal throne of the Elysar dynasty."

"No, you told me something else. About the Rose Artisans?"

"This... wasn't made by the Rose Artisans of Mishk," he said, frowning. He inserted the ring back into its box, "it's the amethyst bracelet you gave me before this," he began moving to the shelves again.

"No, I don't want you to bring it out. I'm not here to take any of them back anyway."

She was surprised to find no expression of relief on his face.

The man looked at her fixing his oval glasses. "This is the third time this month you have come to give away jewellery, Seyin, and you don't ask for money in return. Wouldn't it be prudent to deposit them with the Prime's pawnbroker or any jeweler there?"

"No, it's too risky with the Ironhands keeping watch unceasingly around the Prime. Besides, I feel you might need it more." She gave occasional glances out through the stained windows on her right and back inside at the aisles between the shelves on her left. "They don't come here as often as you expect them to, do they?"

"I'm afraid I haven't lived in the Prime to observe an indifference between their watch in the Prime and Strive. But they do visit sporadically, so we don't keep an eye on their random visits here. It's best to always be cautious. It's not to say they are never around here."

Hale sighed as she buried her hands into her robe's pockets, noticing the subtle mist escaping her nose as she breathed. It was cold outside, and she opted to remain inside for a little while longer.

"When was the last time someone here in the Strive was arrested for dreaming?"

The shopkeeper's eyes widened like they could fall off his head. He slammed his hand on the counter. "You should know better than to say that out in public, Seyin," he leaned over the counter and whispered harshly at her. "We do not speak of the Unspoken. There is little trust us Strivers give each other, even less to the Primers who come here. The Monocle may have warranted us security in this city but their policies regarding anyone involved in dreams is unforgiving, and merciless described at best."

"I know," she countered, "but I feel like I can trust you—"

"No!" He scrambled around the counter to draw the curtains over the windows and locked the door. "Listen to me, Seyin Hale," he addressed urgently, "You cannot trust anyone here, not even your own family when you learn anything about the Unspoken."

She gasped at that sentence.

"There is a reason," he said in a laboured breath, "that folk beyond the Everdam call Qardis the 'City of Whispering Walls'. I'm partly relieved you bought it up here instead of someone else, but regardless, DON'T SPEAK OF DREAMS. Not here, not ever. Tell me you understand."

This was a man she thought was living abiding by peace and his immaterialist philosophies. Hale watched him with disbelief. She realized she was being held by her shoulders only when he drew his hands off her. Does everyone fear the Monocle to this extent?

"I'm afraid you must not return to the Strive anytime soon, Seyin," his tone had calmed down, "It's best for you. And for us too."

Hale stared at his grey fear-stricken eyes. "Have you lost someone yourself, Sey Gareth?"

He sniffled, removing his burgundy fez and running a hand over his balding head. He nodded. "My brother's nephew. Taken. Never seen or heard of again."

"I'm sorry. Was he close to you?"

"No, but I knew him as a child." He walked back around and sat on the chair behind the counter, inviting Hale closer to the table so their exchange was hushed. "Like many they sent him off to the Prime to earn for the family, and now the entire family is dying in regret."

Hale bought the brief silence that followed to contemplate. She glanced at the curtains obstructing the daylight trying to creep in, the racks below the window displaying the ceramic ornaments. Pappe had always wanted to own the ornate tea set with the daisies painted in them.

The man resumed before she could pose her question, "My grandfather once told that the Unspoken was impossible, then he believed no one when my father was taken away after that. The Monocle say something, and now for the last sixty years we were all left wondering what was even the truth in it in the first place."

"The last twenty, you mean?"

"No, my child. The Unspoken is a knowledge as old as time itself, but they do not want you to know about it."

"I wish I don't."

"So does every single one in Qardis. The people are afraid and they live afraid until they die afraid. People do not fear for no reason."

"Perhaps. But would you think it's necessary?"

"Fear? Necessary how?" he repeated incredulously.

"Well how else would you affirm control without instilling fear in the people?"

A chuckle, but it was forced. "You're young child. There are so many things in the world that do not make sense to your young mind."

"But—" Hale realized what she was trying to elucidate. It was true that the Monocle needed a sensible reason to allow the Ironhands to warrant arrests in the province. The people have been silenced. No one proclaimed of the Unspoken anymore, unless they desired to be stripped away from their family. Perhaps that was what Alwold should've done.

Or maybe what I should've done.

"You are deep in thought," Gareth broke silence, lighting a candle before he placed it inside a lamp. "I can tell you are a thoughtful young woman, but sometimes it's best to let the hunger of curiosity die."

"It's just that—" She tried to find the words, but didn't want to reveal too much of anything. "I've been suffering with the same questions for as long as I can remember and I need answers. Has anyone been returned because they were taken away accidentally?"

"As far as I know, the Monocle's methods of inspection are truthfully valid, and I hear the arrested are usually taken to the barracks far away to confirm they were taken for the right reason."

Hale found herself annoyed. This was getting her nowhere to finding out more about Xerach when she realized the route this conversation took.

"The Monocle is assertive in their operations in this matter." Gareth shook his head, wiping his spectacles and putting them back on, taking the opportunity of her annoyance to end the discussion. "And I should recommend that you keep the affairs of returning ornaments to the establishments in the Prime itself from now on." He paused, then took away the severity of his warning by saying, "just because we are protected inside the Girdle does not mean we are free of thievery."

Hale bit her tongue. "My apologies for disturbing your peace, Sey Gareth."

The man mustered a sincere smile. Showing her to the door, he said, "there are better things for you in the Prime to worry about. You have a long time ahead of you. And one day, you'll be forevowed to in less than no time as soon as you complete Second Academia."

His attempt to cheer her up was lousy and morbid. "There'll be a boy with a little rabbit, and there will be the occasion of foraging for roses for the wedding—"

"Oh!" Hale stopped him before he opened the door for her.

The man tightened his jaw, trying his best to disguise his frustration behind his tight lips.

Hale pretended to contemplate. "Never mind. I lost my thought."

"I would suggest you resort to the books instead of following risks coming to the Strive unacquainted with all that lurks here, Seyin. There are not a lot of good people just as there are in the Prime."

"You are a good person."

The man smiled again, his head dropped to humble himself. "I am no more a good person than a mirror is beautiful. I only show the best of what others bring to me." He stroked her cheek lightly before stepping back to close the door.

"Do you really think I must not visit the Strive anymore?"

The door was halfway close. "Not without an escort of course. They give the dirty-eyes to an unescorted Primer—"

"I know, I know," she sighed. "Well, I think I must take my leave. And I'm sorry."

"I wish I could encourage our conversations in a different state of circumstances"

Hale opened a smile at him, and he flashed one in return, then she stepped out between the crack of the swinging door.

The cold hit her like a slap in the face again. There was no time to lose. Pappe would have been back, and so would have Alwold. She had little time, but that was to scour the unexplored routes of the Strive. Hale prayed Xerach might still be here and the only reason she hadn't seen him was because he was too afraid to show himself after happened.

After what had happened.

Gareth's words rang in her head the entire walk back from the Strive, to her expected disappointment finding no evidence of Xerach or what she used to remember of him. She needed to try while he still lived in her head, try scouting every corner of the Strive if she had to. But Gareth was telling her something else.

You cannot trust anyone here, not even your own family.

The words were as heavy as her trudging footsteps. They rang repeatedly in her mind, echoing in every corner of her head. Because it was true and she had witnessed the misplace of trust in her family by her own eyes. Sometimes she came to think that maybe Alwold was right all those years ago. Perhaps if her nine-year-old self had just listened.

But what could you do after five years, if it was you who were the reason your own mother was arrested? 

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