Esra

Noun / Proper Noun

Translation: You are the Sun

Definition as a common noun: "Esra" is commonly used as a name for boys and translates to "You are the Sun," symbolizing someone who is bright, warm.

That constant beeping wouldn't let him sleep. It was relentless, like a mild hammer pounding in his ears. The voice on the television droned on, prophesying doom as casually as if they were selling fish and kale in the market.

"In a landmark decision after a decade of heated debate, Bill 102 was passed ten Summers ago. This controversial measure affects a significant portion of the Menschen population, with one in four having opted in for what's known as the End-of-life procedure, more known as EOL. The EOL procedure, which is essentially a type one blood transfusion, is conducted over several sessions. The goal is to transition the blood colour of the Menschen from blue to red, a process which lawmakers are calling 'the most humane solution' for those unable to leave this world on their own. Despite its passage, the bill has not been without its detractors. Many activists are on the streets, voicing their opposition. They argue that Bill 102 could be seen as an act of genocide."

Jericho's eyes fluttered open, the sterile white walls of the hospital room reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights above. His body felt like it was on fire, every inch of his skin painfully taut and raw from the burns. His mind reeled, struggling to grasp the reality around him.

The television mounted on the wall showed scenes of protestors clashing with police, their shouts muted by the glass of his window. It all seemed alien—the clothing, the holographic advertisements flickering on handheld devices, and even the language had an odd, clipped cadence to it.

He tried to shift, to get a better view, but his skin, or what was left of it, screamed in protest.

A nurse entered, her uniform being simple scrubs. She spoke to him in a tone that was both soothing and clinical, her words barely making sense.

"You're going to be okay, Mr. Wise. Just rest. Sleep now."

Jericho blinked, his eyelids feeling glued together. It was a struggle to keep them open. The sterile smell of the room filled his nostrils, mingling with the constant beeping that kept him from drifting back to sleep.

"Hey, you awake?" a voice interrupted, pulling him from the haze.

Turning his head slowly, he saw a man with long golden hair lounging half on the bed next to him. The man's arm was connected to a vial of red blood via a thin, clear tube. His lean frame seemed oddly relaxed as if this strange setting was the most natural place in the world for him.

The man turned to face Jericho, revealing an innocent, almost faerie-like complexion. Jericho couldn't recall ever seeing someone so beautiful. Mesmerizing blue eyes stared back at him, eyes that seemed to hold endless depth. The man's face was marred only by a series of dots and lines, scars around his eyes and mouth as if he had once been stitched together and the seams had healed imperfectly.

Jericho tried to speak, but his throat was dry, and his voice came out as if it were a croak. The man smiled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that belied his youthful appearance.

"You're in a hospital. You've been through a lot, I can tell," the man said gently, his voice soothing but with an undercurrent of something Jericho couldn't quite place. "A nice way to say you look like shit. It's alright; at least, let's hope your dick didn't fall out in the fire; that is worse than looking like shit, right?"

Jericho's eyes roamed the room. The television on the wall displayed images of protests and debates about Bill 102, but the words were hard to follow.

The man continued, "You look confused. It's understandable. The world has changed a lot—too much. I fucking hate it. I can't wait to get out."

Jericho's mind swam with questions, but his body refused to cooperate. His lips moved or tried to, but the effort only drew his gaze downward. There, on the floor, a black wolf with fur that mirrored the universe and cosmos prowled silently. He remembered tales of such a creature. Was it the Howling Night? His heart raced; who was this man beside him?

"They didn't give me the remote, so we're stuck watching this crap," the man said, gesturing to the television where flashing images and pop-up words bombarded the screen.

Jericho tried to speak, but his lips wouldn't cooperate. His head turned slightly enough to take in the sight of the golden-haired man beside him.

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"Are you trying to flirt with me?" the man asked, catching Jericho off guard. The man chuckled, a sad, resigned laugh. "Just messing with you, man, but so that you know you're not my type… I mean, because you're a dude, not because of how you look. That's what makes you interested, so keep that in mind for later. I'm Esra, by the way. I would shake your hand or give a high five, but I think that would be rude now. It's too soon for that type of familiarity, and is not because you look like… shit."

The door opened, and a woman dressed in white entered. She approached Esra's vial and adjusted the tube.

"In one hour, you should be good to go, Mr. Ann," she said with a flirty smile.

"Can I have a remote? It's stuck on the news," Esra asked.

"I'll see what I can do," she said, her eyes briefly meeting Jericho's before she exited the room.

He watched Esra's gaze follow the nurse's round butt out of the room. Esra turned back to Jericho, "Looks like we're both stuck here for a bit. Don't worry; you'll get used to it. Or maybe you won't. It's hard to say."

Jericho's attempts to speak again were futile, but Esra's presence was oddly comforting, a strange anchor in this disorienting new reality. He had a strange sand-iodine smell that reminded him of Mediah.

"Does he look like…"

And then, Jericho slipped into a restless slumber, his dreams filled with disjointed images of Nightmares, flying swords, and burning pain. When he woke, a man in a brown suit stood by his bed, leaning on a silver cane. Jericho's throat burned with thirst, and he tried to speak but only managed a dry croak. He knew that man!

The man turned at the sound, revealing an eye patch and short, vivid red hair. "Oh, Mr. Wise, you're finally awake." He moved towards the bed as quickly as his cane would allow. "I was starting to worry."

"Wha... wa..." Jericho struggled to form words.

"Water?" The man guessed, his voice gentle. He poured water into a glass and carefully brought it to Jericho's lips. The cool liquid was a relief, soothing his parched throat.

"Where..." Jericho began, but the man interrupted.

"I think the correct question is when. We are in the VI century, the Summer of 511. We are just a few decades away from the End of Times. But don't worry; there's more than enough time to get you back on your feet. No hurry. We are right on schedule."

"You are..." Jericho managed to whisper.

"Oh, sorry," the man said with a chuckle, "we've met so many times before, and then, I sometimes lose track. My name is Professor Edgar Duvencrune. If I'm not mistaken, the first time we met, I gave you an important book. I guess you didn't bring it with you. Don't feel bad. I have hundreds of copies. I've lived this day over and over again, but let's hope, always hope, this will be the last time. I mean, in a good way. Not the morbid way, well, you know what I mean."

Jericho's mind reeled, trying to grasp the Professor's words. The room, the alien equipment, and now this character—it was all too much.

Jericho's voice cracked as he attempted to speak, "Wh..."

"Where are we? Ostesh, the capital of knowledge!" the man in the brown suit answered with enthusiasm. "How did you get here? Well, thanks to your spell that unleashed enough power to light up each household on the planet for decades, and with the Ormsaat near, my Spirit and I were able to pull you back. Quite proud of that endeavour, I must say."

Jericho tried again, "Wh..."

"Why did I bring you here? A human who can summon light? Do you know how rare that is? There aren't many mages, elves, Menschen and others across all times and places who can manage such a spell. Besides me, my father and my daughter, well, there is you. I need you. You and I share a common goal: Xendrix Kaspian. That is our main quest!"

Frustrated and exhausted from being interrupted, Jericho finally forced out the question that plagued his mind, "What happened to the others? Did we... win?"

The Professor paused, "Oh!" He pulled a chair next to Jericho's bed and reached into his jacket, extracting a small book. Jericho caught a glimpse of the cover: Hexe - The Long Night by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune.

"You're asking about the first battle, Magis against Nightmares ever being recorded. Let's see, let's see," Professor Edgar Duvencrune said as he flipped through the pages. "Ah, found it! Chapter 106, 'Fishbait'"

He cleared his throat, adjusting the distance of the book from his eye and began to read aloud.

"The battlefield, still echoing with the faint cries of the lingering conflict, seemed to pause in respect."

A Decade Later: Bill 102 and Its Impact on the Menschen Population

Ten Summers have passed since the historic enactment of Bill 102, a measure that has deeply divided opinions and altered the demographic landscape for the scarce Menschen population. Known officially as the End-of-life (EOL) procedure, this legislation blood transfusions aimed at transitioning the blood colour of the Menschen from blue to red.

The procedure, designed to be carried out over several sessions, using blood transfusion, was introduced as a solution for Menschen wish to end their life. Legislators who backed the bill hailed it as "the most humane solution," providing a dignified option for individuals facing prolonged suffering. As of today, statistical reports reveal that one in four Menschen have opted for the EOL procedure, indicating a significant uptake among the population.

However, the implementation of Bill 102 has not been smooth. Activists and non-human rights organizations have taken to the streets, protesting what they see as a controversial and morally ambiguous law. "This bill, under the guise of compassion, could very well be an act of genocide," stated Elara Voss, a prominent activist. "It's reducing our population alarmingly, and we must reconsider its implications on our collective future."

Despite the backlash, many Menschen view the EOL procedure as a vital option. "We can't die, we can't age. We have seen loved ones leaving this realm, and it is now unbearable for us to these conditions; Bill 102 has been a blessing," shared Marek Juhl, a resident who supported the bill. "It's about giving people the right to choose their path peacefully, without suffering. We have lived for too long."

Legal experts note that the bill's voluntary nature is a critical aspect, ensuring that it remains a personal choice rather than a mandated directive. Yet, the rapid decrease in the Menschen population due to the high rate of participation in EOL has ignited ethical debates and demographic concerns. Are we facing a new genocide? — The Continent Press - 17th, 8th Moon, 511 Summer

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