"I led them to death."

A death which was once a life worth living.

It was the war that disrupted the entire world, but for us, the sun that showered cruel heat waves proved to be the least better option.

Weeks ago, when the desert was the test we endured and passed, I would settle near my mamãe, nestled in her warmth, her words the gem only found in her love for stories.

She would fill my ears with wondrous tales and sometimes, heart-wrenching betrayals of my kin. Yet she never spoke ill of them.

Never did. Even when the next day her dominion as a queen was overthrown by her own tribe. All for what?

—the most sought gift on Earth, the ownership of which lied now in my hands, a youth barely with the conscience to fight back.

Yes, it was an act of cowardice to hide in shallow pits—just to see how her body tossed near the lake between the lagoons, her forehead cut to let the blood be soaked beneath the sand—a ritual to gain the command of the lake.

The fear of getting caught was burned alive by the desire for revenge. A fool I was, and the next thing I did proved this fact. It wasn't long before the next-in-line of my kin was pushing me on the sand, just where my mamãe's body was disposed off.

But now, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the corpse was beginning to stink. After all, so many days had passed since I last saw her.

This time they revelled in their victory, and my lack of resistance just spurred them on to claim the ownership—by drinking the first drop of water from the lake, poured gently, onto awaiting, waggling tongues.

The first scream of anguish was the sign that caused me to get up, overpower my assailants, just in time to see Primo Pseiro's eyes roll back, on his knees as his body slowly arched forward, falling face-front. His followers, too, followed him. One by one, they perished like the dying stars above.

Was it the moonflower that took its effect earlier than expected, or was it the chase that entertained them past these few days?

Nevertheless, I brushed myself off, rose to let my scars shine, and glanced at the poisonous water that, for the first time, instead of saving lives, killed them.

And this legend would carry on, I believe, as the water will be again washed out by a fresh shower following a sandstorm, the moonflower a forgotten strategy from my mamãe that tainted it.