[2]

Wang Ming escaped the shelter of the Temple of Maat and surveyed the city, yellow stone buildings bathed in the gold and maroon of the retreating sun.

Thrafwul: his solace and his burden.

With every sinful soul he judged in the temple, did his kingdom truly become safer and kinder? The view still remained the same.

"Great Ghadol."

"Yue Ha, we are alone."

"Haha... Alright, Wang Ming."

He remembered the time, many moons ago, when she had first slipped out of the shadows of the Temple pillars, startling him.

Now, he continued to overlook his land, finding relief in her silhouette in the corner of his eye. Yue Ha sighed and stretched.

"To'Qiryah is beautiful in the sunset, as always."

"Do you think that because of the sunset, or the city?"

After a few seconds without reply, Wang Ming turned to his quiet companion, whose eyes were gazing at him with a pitying look.

"Though your thoughtfulness makes a great leader, it does not make the most pleasant company."

"... I'm sorry."

"Hush with such empty apologies. I'd prefer if you were solemn rather than foolish, my Ghadol."

"Surely there is no Tzelem as talkative as mine."

Yue Ha's face shifted from one of pity to one of challenge.

"Are you betting on the Ghostly Records?"

Betting on the records.

Wang Ming knew this tactic well; Yue Ha had used it to motivate his studies when he was younger. At this age, however, he simply huffed.

"The last rays of the sun are fleeing. Let us retire to the palace."

Her reply was a chuckle.

"A boring Ghadol is certainly a better one."

Yue Ha was truly Wang Ming's best counterpart.

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Having returned to the palace, washed up, and changed into evening raiments, Wang Ming retired to his chamber. He laid on his soft, luxurious bed, a single candle illuminating the room in orange hues.

When the sun sleeps, so does the Ghadol, the customs say.

Yet, what of those who do not sleep? Those whose slumber is taken by the hunger, thirst, or cold? Those who trade their sleep to live another day?

What of those who sleep, only to never wake again?

Wang Ming knew his own age. His fifteenth year approached him in 3 full moons.

In the soft candlelight, he looked upon his unmarred hands.

Hands that, the law deemed, were still too young to truly rule his mighty land.

What kind of Ghadol was not complete master of Thrafwul?

With that thought, he closed his eyes and exhaled a deep breath. Yue Ha was right; he was not the most pleasant company, even to himself.

He snuffed out the candle, and the Ghadol slept.

But Wang Ming was still awake, and watched the Tzelem step into his view with soundless footfalls.

_______________________________________________

The Tzelem bowed before her leader.

"A pleasant evening, my Ghadol."

Yue Ha had always said that greeting, though Wang Ming never found the contents of their discussions made the night very pleasant.

"Yue Ha, who was it today?"

She raised her body, and her eyes carried that familiar look of pity.

"A rising merchant under Counsel Tzaphan. A husband with two young children."

"Despite his higher status, he had continued to close his stall without servants, proceeding to bring the food nearing spoilage to the poorer districts before retiring."

"..."

The first time Wang Ming had judged a man guilty was the birth of his unrest. The first he inquired of a guilty man, tears did not elude him through the night.

Though his eyes were dry, the same sting remained. The same questions arose.

Why were such evils disguised by cloaks of uprightness? Did some evil people dabble in good, or was it the other way around? Perhaps, that was just the way men live?

With every night like this one, he set aside his dissonance with greater ease.

"Thank you again, Yue Ha. You may attend to your duties."

"Anything for my Ghadol. The Tzelem lives for you."

She bowed, turned to return into the opaque darkness, and did not re-emerge.

Wang Ming settled into his bed.

When he would wake, he would be another day closer to standing among the court, not just a figurehead being spoonfed the speech of the moment.

He wished once more for a bounteous Thrafwul as sleep took him.

_____________________________________________

Darkness crept over this earth, just as it had on the spirit's home. The difference, however, was the uplifting hope that it would give way to light in a cycle of life.

Before that, it had wandered.

It had never seen green vines so large and strong, leaves so thin you would believe them a trick of the eye in passing. Smaller, slender flora dotted along the land in hues like the grains they rested upon.

Miniscule creatures traversed the heat, barely larger than the grains they treaded upon. Dark-winged beasts with long, crooked necks perched upon dried trees, and swooped down to pick at the dead til all remained was bone. Even still, did four-legged animals reminiscent of gale hounds prowl the ground for those bones, grinding and chewing until nothing was left.

After a millenia of dust, this life was beautiful.

As a frigid chill blanketed the land, the spirit gazed upon the pale round light in the sky, softly illuminating the warm, harsh world in a deep, cold blue. The life it had seen retreated with the light, and a quiet slumber began.

This change, too, was beautiful.

It had decided to partake in the meaningful repose as well, before whispering crackles disturbed the silence.