Land of Heathens

Chapter 4 - Guessing the Winners

Navir, Mehrak, and Nimi walked briskly down the dimly lit street, their breaths puffing in the crisp evening air. Navir’s hands were tucked into his jacket pockets. Nimi kept glancing over her shoulder, her small frame tensed, while Mehrak’s bald head gleamed faintly under the streetlights as he scanned the surroundings like a scholar noting data.

Nimi asked, her voice small but edged with curiosity, “Who do you think actually won the scholarship from our school?”

Navir tilted his head, voice low and thoughtful. “Honestly? It could be anyone. This year’s competition was brutal.”

Nimi hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “Maybe Jahmir? He’s always buried in his notes… and coming from the Vareen family, he’s brilliant and well-connected. And what about Samaveh? She’s meticulous and rarely overlooks a detail.”

Mehrak lifted a hand, gesturing animatedly. “Well, there’s Ardavan. He’s usually the quiet type—always tinkering with something. The guy’s smart, no doubt.”

Nimi nodded slowly. “Yeah… but he’s been acting strange lately. Even his grades dropped. It’s like he’s somewhere else entirely.”

Mehrak snapped his fingers. “Exactly. Still, he could pull through if he gets his head back in the game.”

Nimi thought for a moment. “And what about Torin? He’s unpredictable, but if he actually puts in effort for once…”

Mehrak chuckled. “He might shock everyone.”

Navir furrowed his brow, voice low. “What about students from influential families? They always have an advantage.”

Nimi bit her lip, thinking, eyes narrowing. “Right… someone like Lorian could climb fast if the opportunity presents itself. She’s got the backing and the brains, and she’s been keeping a close eye on all this.”

Mehrak smirked. “So, we’ve got the quiet geniuses, the privileged players, and the wildcards. Should make for an interesting reveal.”

Navir’s gaze flicked over the street ahead, uneasy. “Interesting, yes… but it doesn’t feel right. Too many pieces moving at once.”

The tension around them eased for a moment, but then Navir’s instincts pricked again. His pace slowed subtly. The street behind them seemed too quiet, the shadows stretching longer than usual. A shiver slid down his spine.

“Wait,” he muttered, eyes narrowing.

Nimi stiffened. “What?”

“I thought I heard something.” Navir said, pushing the unease aside, focusing on the path ahead. He quickened his pace slightly, pretending the faint echo of footsteps behind them was nothing more than his imagination.

They continued down the dimming street until Navir slowed, glancing toward a small, familiar compound ahead. “Hey… this is Baasit’s place. Let's go say hello.”

Nimi hesitated, shifting her weight. “I don’t know. He’s been acting weird lately …”

Mehrak shrugged. “We’re already here. Might as well check on him.”

Navir knocked lightly on the door, and after a brief, unsettling pause, it swung open. Baasit stepped out slowly, as if he’d been waiting just on the other side the entire time.

“Baasit!” Mehrak grinned. “Man, it’s been a while.”

Baasit stopped on the threshold. His posture was stiff, his face strangely blank.

“…Hello,” he said flatly.

Navir blinked. “You okay? We didn’t see you at school after the exam.”

“I’m fine,” Baasit replied, tone unnervingly even, almost mechanical. His eyes slid over them without warmth, without recognition, as if they were strangers passing on the road.

Nimi cleared her throat, forcing a tentative smile. “Well… guess we should get going. See you, Baasit.”

Baasit’s lips twitched into a cold, stoic smile—carefully measured, almost sincere, yet his eyes remained unreadable.

The trio exchanged uneasy glances, murmuring their own quiet goodbyes before starting down the path.

As they reached the corner, Navir glanced back, catching Baasit murmuring something under his breath, soft and indistinct, impossible to make out.

Without slowing, he asked quietly, “Did you… hear that?”

They had barely made it a few steps down the street when Nimi suddenly blurted out, “What was that? What’s wrong with him?” Her voice trembled despite her attempt to sound steady.

Mehrak shoved his hands into his pockets. “Baasit looked… off. Like he didn’t even know who we were.”

Navir didn’t respond at first. The image of Baasit’s empty stare clung to him, cold and wrong. “It wasn’t just that,” he muttered. “His eyes… it was like he wasn’t there at all.”

The street hummed faintly, a distant engine rumbling somewhere, but everything felt too still.

Then Navir’s phone buzzed.

A notification slid across the screen, from an unknown number.

Don’t go back there.