“Your reign is over—”

Why?

“You will not—”

You cannot. This is not necessary,

“There will be no wishes that go unnoticed anymore!”

Foolishness. Reconsider.

A whirring scream like a dying banshee. Stabbing pain that felt like he was being ripped limb from limb. A piercing light.

My creations. I am sorry.

 Yilmaz jolted awake from his bed, heart pounding out of his chest. He was gripping at his clothes like he had been stabbed with something sharp. There was nothing on his chest, nor was there an assassin in his room. The crowing of roosters and birds chirping outside were the only backdrop noise in his otherwise silent room.

The candle on his nightstand had melted, the wax already dripped out of its stand. The sky outside was still notably dark, although no stars decorated it, only the visages of night being swept away to a soft hue of light blue and clouds starting to replace the horizon.

Yilmaz sighed and got up, going over to the vanity mirror that stood near his bedroom door. Leaning down, he carefully assessed himself.

Horrible. His hair was a rat’s nest, and the shadows underneath his eyes had continued to grow prominent. No under eye bags at least. Sweat matted him like he had been running away from a bear and his nightclothes were mucked like he’d fought a storm.

‘I have to fix myself. I still have work today and I have to talk with the new employee that’s going to work under my wing. I have to forget that dream ever happened, it’s not like this is my first nightmare.’

He placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart thrum and slow. Empty still. Missing.

Hollow.

Yilmaz straightened himself up and walked to the bathroom, getting ready to face the day.

“Good day, master.” The accountant greeted Yilmaz just as he entered the establishment. “Another night of unrest?”

“Good morning, where are the other accountants and assistants? Are they not here yet?” Yilmaz asked. “And yes, I’m afraid so. This has been happening for a while.”

“You should really try that chamomile tea you’ve been recommending us.” The accountant said with a worried look. “It’s done wonders and has given us a good night’s sleep. As for the others, they’re in one of the rooms where the new employee is supposed to wait. I’ve told them to leave the poor man alone but they were incessant.”

Yilmaz paused near the flight of stairs. His employees must surely see potential if they were crowding around the new face already and not doing their work first. “I see. Thank you, Meili. I’ll go take a look.”

That would mean they’re in the meeting room where they usually held their monthly gatherings to recall their financing and accounts. Yilmaz left the accountant alone at the front register and went up the flight of stairs that had many rooms made of rice paper windows and wooden walls. Nothing much to offer, other than a crystal-clear view of the running river and flowering fruit trees. 

The deeper Yilmaz went into the hall of the rooms, the more he heard the busy gaggling of his employees in the room where he assumed them to be. He couldn't quite catch the things that they were saying since it was drowned by the cacophony of their overlapping voices.

‘They’re really asking them too many questions and overwhelming them. Oh well, at least I know they’re welcome.’

A sultry but polite voice rose above the barrage of questions. “I am quite nervous. This is my first time working in this particular tea house.”

Yilmaz paused outside, his hand resting on the sliding door. 

The voice sounded confident, no hint of jitter or hitching from the tone. He could hear some of the ladies in the room squeal and coo. 

Yilmaz huffed and shook his head then opened the door.

“Where else did you work?”

“Could you tell us what it was like traveling around?”

They were crowding around someone with dark red hair. That was what Yilmaz could see with his current access. 

“Are you all overwhelming another new worker again?” he finally asked after they crowded the poor rookie even more.

The workers inside the room fell silent, looking over to the door and freezing like a deer when they saw Yilmaz.

Amusement blossomed in Yilmaz’s chest. “I see you’ve given them the welcome they deserve.”

“Boss!” One of the accountants stammered. “We’re sorry. We just wanted to know how he was doing and if he was ready for the job.”

“Yes, master. He was nervous coming in and asking for confirmation if this was the Itzal teahouse that has been looking for another tea master. He said he was good with tea but he didn’t know where he could meet you, so we welcomed him and brought him here… then we asked him questions.”

An excuse to see their new worker then.

“And I think you've asked him enough for the day,” Yilmaz shook his head, dark hair brushing against his dark face. “This time, I'll be taking over, my dear workers and friends. Thank you for welcoming him, you all go back to your work stations now. Go on, shoo.”

There were a few dejected sounds coming from the ladies, but otherwise they shuffled out. The men kept glancing back at the new employee as if saying ‘good luck’ while they filed out like ducklings. 

Finally, after all of them were outside, Yilmaz requested them to start preparing the rooms and setting up the work stations. Today might become a busy day so it was important to always prepare for the possible busiest outcome when it involved running a business. 

Yilmaz shut the door and turned to the new worker.

“Hello,” The man smiled with a crinkle of his sultry fox eyes. “I didn’t mean to cause such a commotion. Is this the talk where I must answer all the questions that you might have?”

Yilmaz blinked. The man in front of him was… beautiful in all definition of the words. Long red hair tied into a bun, a hairpin with a magnolia flower jutting out and jewels that looked like dripping rain and green leaves hanging off the pearl-like chains complemented the bun. 

The eyes of the stranger reminded Yilmaz of gold sunsets and sunflowers. In any case, the new employee was also dressed decently in robes of pink and green, layered on top of each other and belted at the waist with a simple green sash.

‘Hm. It looks like he comes from a wealthy family. Is he human or deity?’

Only one way to find out.

The smile however made him think for a moment. It didn’t look natural. Or maybe he was just overthinking it.

“That is correct,” Yilmaz said and sat opposite from the new worker, sitting on his knees and heels.

He folded his hands together on the table. “I am Yilmaz Itzal, owner of this dear tea house establishment. You are Rouzia Silvanus, correct?”

The new worker laughed, scooting back and offering a deep bow, their head touching the floor before they got up and resumed their initial sitting position by the table. “Yes indeed, that is me. It's a pleasure to be acquainted. I’m just a regular person who wants to find work and provide for himself after years of being a scholar in the works of nature and tea.”

‘Straight to the point then? I can work with that if that is how it will go.’

“You have theoretical experience then,” Yilmaz said. “Why do you want to apply for the position of tea master? Why not other establishments?”

“Well, I, for one, am passionate about tea.” Rouzia grinned and leaned forward. “I cultivate tea leaves at home and sample them myself. That being said, I also want to expand my horizon in working in this tea house. I’ve tested many teas throughout my life and travels and then went to Master Fenghuang’s school for it, thus I think I would be qualified to take on the task.”

“How many years have you grown tea?”

“Believe it or not, ten years since I’ve started growing tea leaves and mixing them together. I went to school for this for three. There's surprisingly a lot of good blends out there.”

Color him impressed. So, this man didn’t only taste test but he also grew his own supply of tea leaves. 

Well, to be fairly speaking, his tea house did reward competency and was looking for those with good taste and talent. 

Yilmaz hummed, resting his chin on his hand. “And why should we hire you? You are clearly over our budget and have a lot of knowledge, why our tea house?”

Rouzia seemed to think it over, folding his hands together and taking in a deep breath as if bracing himself. There was no stutter, no faltering, only the soft look in those eyes that made Yilmaz’s stomach squeeze with knots.

“What did the ladies and men of my establishment tell you before I came in?” Yilmaz asked in lieu of filling the silence, locked in on Rouzia turning to him again.

The soft look vanished instantly, replaced with the sort that looked like a mischievous fox ready to pounce.

“Nothing much,” Rouzia laughed softly. “just that this establishment treats them well and pays them their due. They speak highly of you and think that you are some sort of god on earth for taking them in and providing them a job.”

That… was a bit of an overstatement, wasn’t it? Yilmaz didn’t think he was a god on earth nor a god in anything at all.

A small laugh escaped him at the description. “They over exaggerate. I am only a humble teahouse owner. Although, why haven’t you settled for more grander tea house establishments?”

“The world of tea tasting has grown rather vast for me, and I know it has much to offer but I grow tired of such grand luxury,” Rouzia leaned back a little and straightened his spine. “I don’t care about the budget or if you give me a low salary. I want to work here because of how happy the atmosphere is and how homely it feels.”

A simple answer, but one that made Yilmaz satisfied nonetheless. He stood up, gesturing to Rouzia. “I must say, your answers impress me. Congratulations.” Yilmaz opened the door. “Walk with me, I’ll show you to your working station.”

Rouzia made a small noise, a thank you maybe, and followed Yilmaz out of the room.

“This is your work station,” Yilmaz opened the door to another room, filled with tiny cabinets, tea cups and a teapot, sets of spoons, and then a working fire stove where water would be boiled. “So far, there's only two of us as tea masters of the house. The assistants serve the tea to the guests while we sample the blends and make sure our guests get the finest.” 

The room itself was spacious, with lots of leg room to spare. A single sliding window provided a view of the blooming fruit trees of spring in the orchard it was placed in. Some butterflies fluttered about around the flowers that occasionally dotted the orchard, kissing the leaves and petals of the flowers that they landed on.

Rouzia hummed, stepping into the room. He went over to the little cabinets, opening them and lighting up when he saw the various sets of boxes that contained the tea leaves. 

After circling the area like a hawk, he turned to Yilmaz and clapped his hands together. “So, what tea would you like?” 

Yilmaz raised a brow, but figuring that this was probably Rouzia’s way of asking what he could demonstrate, he answered. “Depends on what occasion. When I want to relax I usually go with white jasmine tea, If I feel particularly fancy or festive, I'd go with red tea, any kind really.” 

Rouzia mumbled something that Yilmaz couldn't quite hear but he bounced back with a laugh again. “How does golden needle tea sound? It looks like it would suit your palette.” 

“Oh? What makes you say that?” 

“Just your style,” Rouzia shrugged, rearranging his hair and pulling it into a tighter bun with his hairpin, his bangs framing his face as he walked over to the work station to begin preparing it. “And as I've observed with the brief interaction we have, I'd say you wouldn't mind the golden needle tea. Refreshing to say the least.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yes. I recommend it but ah, does the bucket in the corner of that work station contain fresh water?”

“Of course, one of my workers fetched the water this morning. I did say earlier that they needed to prepare everything before the guests arrive,” Yilmaz huffed and made a vague gesture with his hand. “Impress me then, teamaster.” 

“Gladly.” 

Yilmaz took his seat right over the raised platform padded with a bamboo mat, a small, low table as its only decoration and cushions that served as seats. Said owner watched as Rouzia moved about the work station, finding the fire piston and throwing in firewood and thin bark that had been piled at the stove's storage area. 

Just like clockwork, Rouzia moved with purpose, pouring water in the kettle, then settling it on top of the stone stovetop, finding the tea leaves in the cabinets and setting up the teapot (dropping in the chosen leaves in decent amounts) and cups that had been thoroughly washed as can be. 

“Hm, you move fluently and efficiently.” Yilmaz said. 

Rouzia turned to him and gave him a wink. “I told you I had experience.”

After what felt like eternity of waiting for the water to boil and then steeping the tea leaves, Rouzia finally served the tea, placing the porcelain teacup in front of Yilmaz. 

“Here is your tea, sir. Please enjoy.” he said as he poured himself a cup and sat down on the other side of the low table. 

Yilmaz hummed and picked up the cup, watching the light amber color of the steeped tea. The smell was sweet, floral with a hint of sugar cane and sweet apple. He took a small sip, the sweet and malty taste hitting his tongue.

“So, how is it?” Rouzia asked as he took small sips from his own cup, leaning slightly forward on the table. “I hope it’s not too bitter.”

“Perfect.” Yilmaz said after he savoured the taste on his palette. “The flavour profile is balanced and it’s not overwhelming. This would delight the guests if they couple it with roasted meat and grilled vegetables. It’s a good palette cleanser.”

“You praise it highly, good sir.” Rouzia beamed. “I don’t think I deserve such compliments.”

“I praise when an artisan does their assignment. Please, finish this tea with me.” Yilmaz reached for the teapot and poured himself and Rouzia another cup. 

Rouzia happily handed his cup and then received it back, fluttering his lashes at Yilmaz teasingly. 

In some way, that gesture made him roll his eyes and focus on the tea he was drinking. Besides, it was perfect for this hot summer day with the blossoms already blooming outside. A floral theme that went well with the tea.

“Sir Yilmaz, I must ask…”

Yilmaz hummed in acknowledgement.

Rouzia rested his chin on his hand while his other hand gently tilted the tea cup back and forth like he was caressing leaves upon a tree. “Have you heard of a story about a primordial who got shattered into pieces?”

‘Shattered?’ Yilmaz tilted his head. “No, I don’t think so. Do tell me?”

Rouzia’s grin was once again plastered, his fox-like eyes crinkling as he lounged a little. The stare that he subjected Yilmaz under was almost invasive, as if he could see through his very soul.

It sent a rather funny feeling through his otherwise empty heart. For some reason.

“Where should I start? The beginning? The end? Or the middle?” Rouzia teased. “Or should I mix it up?”

Yilmaz chuckled. “Wherever you think is best.”

“Well then, if that is what you say, let me start from the beginning of who and what this primordial is,” Rouzia cleared his throat. “Long ago, perhaps a thousand years had passed, there was a primordial being so powerful that from their loneliness and wish to have company, created the very heavens filled with stars. And with those stars, he created the Light Primordial, his sister and kin of blood.”

Yilmaz took another sip of his tea, fascination blooming in his chest as Rouzia told the tale. He couldn’t help but feel like he was in the world that he was creating, watching the way the expression on Rouzia’s face came to be and how his hands moved about in describing the story.

“Then after that, the earth primordial followed with her rage, forming from the explosion that the Light Primordial caused as she was born. The Earth Primordial’s rage was quenched by the Water Primordial’s blessed rains, born from the hot earth’s cooling breath. With the calming temperance of the earth from the blessed waters icyness, the Nature Primordial followed, bringing the plants, trees, animals, and all things with life into the surface as he broke free from the Earth Primordial’s heart. For a while, all things were as it should be, harmonious and in equal parts as it was made.”

Yilmaz felt his insides twist. “And… after that?”

Rouzia’s eyes turned sad, tracing his tea cup over the dish it was served on. “In harmony, there is always disharmony. An usurper, one from the lower born gods who saw how the primordials were dormant and did not grant all the wishes of the humans that begged for their presence, decided to wage a rebellion against them. Of all the primordials that they wanted to exterminate, they decided to attack the very first source of creation—The Dark Primordial who only wished to be left alone in their pocket domain, who was the foundation of the universe. And do you know what happened next?”

The twisted and almost sickening feeling continued to manifest in Yilmaz’s gut and chest. It almost felt like he was choking even if he was breathing, but he answered nonetheless. “Did the primordial fight back and lose?”

Rouzia’s fingers tapped on his chin, his sad eyes gazing at Yilmaz then at the blossoms outside as if he were the one seeking answers. “Yes and no. The Dark Primordial at first negotiated, asking that he be left alone, and that waging war on him wasn’t necessary— foolish decision— that granting the mortals all their wishes would throw chaos and imbalance in karma and life itself.

“The usurper however, was beyond reason, demanding that the Dark Primordial command all the other Primordials to grant the wishes of the mortals whether it was good, bad, or unachievable. Thus, with little to no choice, the Dark Primordial had to fight and try to vanquish them. Many were exterminated, but in the end, the usurper emerged victorious…”

“And…?” The dream from before hit him and made him even sicker. “After that…?”

“The usurper got a hold of the Dark Primordial’s very power and essence but they could not kill him. How he managed to get the source of the Dark Primordial’s whole existence is a mystery, but it is said that he scattered the remains of the Dark Primordial on all four corners of one specific continent and sealed them so the fallen primordial could never find themself again.”

Yilmaz wanted to throw up but forced himself to drink the last dregs of his tea. The sweetness on his tongue was suddenly gone, replaced with the bitter wash of horror and some sort of disgust and pain. 

For no apparent reason, he was feeling like he had been spliced open. “That… is a heavy story. Where did such myth come from?”

Rouzia blinked and turned back to Yilmaz as if he had just snapped out from a daze. 

When Rouzia noticed Yilmaz’s complexion and expression, he chuckled, lightening his own into something softer. “Just stories that my grandparents passed down from our bloodline. It's a story that they used to scare me so I wouldn't misbehave. My apologies if I scared you, sir.”

But was it truly a story passed down from generations? The way Rouzia told it made it seem like he had been there to witness the very thing that he had been telling and he was powerless to stop it. Like he had tried to help but couldn’t do anything other than watch as everything crashed and burned down.

Or maybe Rouzia was just a good story teller and Yilmaz was just over analyzing it.

With a small thank you for the story and his company, Yilmaz picked up the cups and told Rouzia that he would be telling the assistants to bring the customer’s requests to him. After a little more small talk, Yilmaz bid his goodbye, carrying a tray with the teacup and pot to the washing area. 

And as he walked past the corridors with his workers rushing about, he couldn’t help but wonder if Rouzia may be something more than what meets the eye.

‘I am being delusional. No god would grace my teahouse.' Yilmaz reasoned as he handed the tray to the washerlady. ‘Rouzia is just a traveler who has heard many stories. Who wouldn’t craft their own after hearing too many?’

Yilmaz shook his head. No thoughts to be had. The teahouse was going to be bustling today; he should be doing his work. He could already hear the customers outside the teahouse.

With that in mind, Yilmaz went back to work, the heavy feeling in his chest dimming as he got lost in the hustle and bustle of soft chatter and clinking cups.