Aiden's heart nearly stopped.
His mother.
The words hit harder than they should have — not because they meant anything personal to him, but because of what they meant to Ezra. A mother's body. A tribe waiting on a sacred decision. And he was the one expected to make it.
He didn't know what they did with the dead here.
He didn't know what Ezra would have chosen.
But every eye in that circle was watching him now — not just the elders, but he could feel the gaze of the others beyond the ring of stones. Silent, still, judging. And Rael… Rael stood like a statue at his side, giving no clue, no hint, only a calm waiting that made Aiden want to scream.
Think. Be smart. If they're asking me, it means the decision is important. Something only Ezra could decide. Or maybe something any Young Light had to do.
So what would Ezra do?
What would they expect the Young Light to say?
Aiden took a breath. His throat felt dry, the sun beating down on the back of his neck like judgment itself.
"I…" he began, voice low, then steadied it. "I would never want my mother to pass into dust and be forgotten like ash."
There was a shift in the air. No one moved, but they were listening now.
"She will be given to the fire," Aiden continued, more certain now, speaking like and winging every word. "Her body will rise with smoke, so her spirit may be guide by the winds. That is what I choose."
There was a beat of silence.
Then one of the elders — the man with the claw necklace — gave a quiet grunt. Approval? Disapproval? It was hard to say.
But then the elder woman bowed her head.
"Then it shall be so," she said, her voice like sand over stone. "Alysha will return to the flamme."
Aiden let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
Rael stepped forward and spoke with formal finality: "The Young Light has spoken. Let the rites begin at dusk."
Whispers rippled outward from the circle. Some bowed. Others left without a word. The elder woman met Aiden's gaze once more before rising slowly and turning away, supported by a tall attendant.
When the stone circle began to empty, Aiden was in his though.
'Did I say the right thing?'
Rael cut him in his though, his voice was just loud enough to carry. "You said the right thing Young Light."
Aiden nodded slightly, but his stomach twisted. Would Ezra have said that? Or was that just lucky guessing?
He glanced up at the dune where the bronze-haired girl stood again — Sahar. Her arms were crossed. Her eyes narrowed.
She was not pleased.
Back at the tent, dusk was already creeping along the dunes like liquid shadow. The wind was picking up, dry and fast, stirring the sand in long trails that danced over the village.
Inside, Tima sat beside a bundle of cloth and bone that Aiden realized — too late — was the wrapped body of Alysha. Her face was not visible, but small painted beads were placed at her sides, and fire-scarred tokens of clay sat along her chest.
Tima didn't cry.
She just held one of the beads in her hand, turning it over and over again.
"She would've been proud of you," she said softly, not looking up.
Aiden didn't know what to say to that. He didn't feel like Ezra. He didn't know her. All he had were borrowed fragments and his own instinct.
"I hope so," was all he managed.
Tima finally looked up. "You're different."
Aiden froze.
"Since you woke up," she added. "You talk slower. Even the way you walk is different. You seem more mature."
He blinked, unsure whether that was an insult or just honesty.
"But that's good," she said, with a small smile. "You're different from who you were before."
So in just a few hours observing me she could see i was different it won't last long before they discover i'm not the Ezra they i should find something to keep theyre suspicion away...I'm sorry Ezra.
"I guess... seeing our mother diying changes me," Aiden said.
Tima tilted her head, then nodded, like that made perfect sense.
That night, under a star-soaked sky, the funeral pyre was lit.
The flames rose high, and chants echoed through the sands. The tribe stood in a wide circle, silent save for the low humming songs that Tima led in a trembling voice. The body of Alysha burned like a beacon, smoke rising in spirals as her spirit was, presumably, released into the world beyond.
Aiden stood at the front, the robe of the Young Light brushing his ankles, the flame painting his face in gold and shadow.
He didn't cry.
He didn't know how.
But when the fire finally died and the tribe began to drift away, Rael came to stand beside him.
"You honored her," he said.
Aiden nodded. "I hope so."
"She wasn't only your mother," Rael added after a pause. "She was also loved and respected by anyone in the tribe."
So Ezra's mother hadn't just been loved — she was also been important.
Which meant whoever had killed her — and Aiden was starting to feel more and more sure it hadn't been natural causes — had probably shaken this tribe to its core.
He looked up at Rael.
"Do we know how she died?"
Rael's expression didn't change. But his voice dropped low.
"Not yet. But we will."
And in that moment, Aiden felt it — the first real crack of danger. Not just to himself, but to everyone tied to this strange new life he'd stepped into.
Whoever Ezra had been…
He hadn't just died.
He'd been targeted.
And now Aiden — wearing his face — might be next.
The fire had long died.
The tent was dark and still, save for the quiet rise and fall of Tima's breathing beside him. Aiden lay awake, staring at the sloping fabric above, thoughts circling like vultures.
Ezra's mother.
The tribe.
The funeral.
He was just beginning to drift into uneasy sleep when the flap rustled. A figure loomed — tall, still, silent.
Rael.
"Ezra," he said, voice low. "Come. Quietly."
Ezra sat up, heart lurching. Tima didn't stir. He hesitated for a second — then followed.
The desert night outside was cold and sharp, the kind that clung to the skin. The wind whispered low across the sand. No one else stirred. Rael walked ahead without speaking, his boots silent over the dunes.
They didn't go far. Just beyond the last tent, where the moonlight lit the earth in pale silver and the village fell out of view behind a rise of stone.
Then Rael stopped.
Ezra opened his mouth to speak — but froze as Rael drew a blade.
Its edge caught the moonlight like a threat.
Aiden's throat went dry. His pulse hammered in his neck.
Was this it? Had he figured it out?
"W-wait," he began, raising his hands slightly, "Rael, what—"
The sword rose.
Not to strike — but to hover.
Pointed just inches from Aiden's chest.
Rael's eyes didn't flicker.
"Who are you?"
Aiden's blood turned to ice.
He knows.
His thoughts spiraled, panic scraping against reason. Should he lie? Should he run? Was there even time to—
"I…" he choked, voice catching.
But Rael cut him off. His sword lowered.
"If you already knew what to say," Rael said calmly, "then why did you faint before the rite?"
Aiden blinked, stunned.
He… he hadn't seen through him. He was testing him.
The panic drained just slightly from his limbs. He swallowed hard, finding his voice.
"I think…" Aiden began, keeping his tone low, slow. "Seeing my mother's body… it did something to me. I wasn't ready. It took a toll."
A pause.
Then, silently, in his mind: Sorry, Ezra… for using your mother again.
Rael studied him for a moment more. Then his grip eased, and the blade slipped back into its sheath with a quiet metallic sigh.
"I apologize," he said, and bowed — low and respectful. "I did not consider your emotions, Young Light."
Aiden blinked at him. "Stand up. Please."
Rael straightened slowly.
"But… why do you keep calling me that?" Aiden asked.
Rael tilted his head slightly, as if surprised by the question.
"Its true you don't know yet the significance of it," he said simply. "The Light for you to understand more easily you can compare it to the kingdom people who are beyond the desert who call their chef by using the word king." Aiden forced a nod, unsure how to respond then Rael continue. "It also have a second meaning for our tribe, the light is the one who lead our tribe he is the light that will guide us. But you still young and your father is the current Light of our tribe one day you will fully be the light of our tribe."
He was starting to understand the significance of this title a little bit more.
"You look different," Rael added after a moment. "Since you were usually sick. But change is not always bad."
Aiden looked away.
That wasn't exactly reassuring.
They walked back in silence.