Chronicles of Uhtrr ( Book 2 )

Lovers Pact

ANDRES/ JUAN/ DE MAYO,

For the past year, we've been smuggling resources left and right, from people of all sorts, from those who've shined at the top and those drowning at the bottom. We, or rather I, didn't really care nor consider who was on the guillotine, all I understood was how high the flow of gold is.

We were getting paid by all sorts of people, people corrupted by greed, envy, ambition, and even faith, in the end, they're all the same pointing that this is all for the greater good, an excuse they believe to perceive themselves as a higher being or to those of the extraordinary with exceptional purpose, mistaking justice for injustice.

After all, we ought to be drunk on something to keep ourselves moving forward. In my case, it's money, I need it more than anything this world has to offer, or so I thought.

In June, the year 1960, amidst the warmth of night and the hollow symphony of chimes, my blood turned cold, cold enough to make my skin pale, cold enough to wither my ankles and wrists. It happened quietly, ow so quiet. My mother had lost the battle against leukemia but won the war against life. She single-handedly raised a child with no familial support or whatsoever, even as we lived on streets after streets, she raised me to be proper, but even so, I the ignorant and the fool, unworthy of such pure and committed love...

All the money that I've acquired over the past months were but empty promises to the dead. That money was supposed to pay for her medications, but it was too late, fate had other plans for me and marked the end for her.

Shortly after her death, a few weeks had come by to harvest the life out of my comrades. One after the other, mission after mission, they gave their lives, Berto was the first, then Angeles, then Martha. That got me thinking, when will my time be? hopefully, this ought to be my last mission, like them, I grow tired too.

I, the scum but capable, would save this world from itself, a fitting last mission, ironic. A benevolent goal with selfish intentions, my finale approaches. My last waltz---but faith had once more deter my purpose. Do I tell her the truth? No! I could never pass on such a burden...My heart aches from the thought of leaving her alone in this wretched world. 

For the first time in my life, I've been nothing but unworthy of all the love that I've received yet worthy a thousandfold from all the hatred and grief, I never could've thought that I can be...something more, not until the day I laid eyes on her.

After all, what is purpose if I don't have something to live for? Grief has once more perched itself from my sore heart, for I know that my time is almost at its end. If that faithful day comes...how can I ever bid you farewell? How could I?

" Mother, Berto, Angeles, Martha, watch over me. I find myself torn between a sailing ship and an island, one that I'd prefer not to leave... "

---------------

Before dawn, and while Queen sweetly nestle in her sleep, the three of us formed a huddle to prepare ourselves for the ritual, to ask the first and true mother for guidance and her blessing. We held our necklace in the diminutive figure of the mother at our palms as a knife on the other.

" Uhtrr ë Kük. Tüg Si Tahr ük Ghivar Ise Ün De Iehtt. Uhtrr ë Kük. "

( Mother we pray. Through this night of terror shine us your light. Mother we pray. )