ã€ŠKing of the Graveyardã€‹


 Chapter 1: Finality

    I was walking through what appeared to be a thicket, sparsely obfuscated by a gentle mist. The tiny suspended droplets were individually illuminated by a stray moonlight ray, escaping the dense roof of foliage high up above me.

    Only one sound was loud enough to be audible: dry, fragile leaves, crunching underneath my heavy steps.

    The cold was making all the blood rush to my face, yet the air was oddly absent of any wind, as if the atmosphere was holding its breath at my advance.

    Critters of the forest on and above ground were visibly still, as though petrified, observing this unwelcome outsider marching into a place he all but belonged in.

    It felt like the very earth below my feet wanted to reject me, push me back from whence I came.

    Although dazed and confused, I couldn''t help but let my mind wander, oppressed by this sense of dread screaming from everywhere around me all at once:

    ¡°Why am I walking?¡±

    And that''s when I realized, I didn''t know.

    I didn''t remember stepping foot into this forest. I didn''t remember my reason for wanting to press on. It felt like a word I had on the tip of my tongue, so frustratingly close, but yet still barely out of reach.

    For just a single moment I thought of stopping, of going back, wherever ¡®back¡¯ even was. However, as soon as the idea had barely finished conceptualizing into my mind, something disturbed the very core of my being.

    A bolt of painful shock from deep inside my gut shot its way outward, whiplashing my nervous system, reverberating throughout every fiber of my flesh and blood.

    Whatever reason I had to end up here in the first place was of utmost importance. So much so that ¡ª despite the motivation slipping from my mind¡¯s grasp ¡ª my body was seemingly hard-wired into working towards this one objective, a primal instinct going beyond simple logical reasoning.

    And so, I kept walking.

    Cold, tense and exhausted.

    Though my memories elusive and my body¡¯s strength to stand up on its own quickly fading, it kept going, heavy, encumbered, step after step, I pushed through, until I couldn''t.

    One simple mistake is all it took. The wrong footing, and I swiftly fell down with a thunderous crash. In that one instant, I felt the weight of the whole world on my back.

    The sound of clattering metal pieces on my body echoed through the woods, prompting a flock of forest birds to hurriedly join the stars in the night sky.

    The ravens¡¯ watchful gaze, however, remained uninterrupted, in all likelihood because they knew I was only a second short of a motionless carcass, ready to enter the cycle of life anew.

    I not only reached my limit, but adrenaline pushed me past it for too long. My body had simply given up on me, as though even simply breathing now was a sharp and painful exertion.

    And that''s when I witnessed it.

    My eyes, narrowly open, caught the glimpse of a light. Not of the firmament¡¯s reflection, but independent, coming from something standing just in front of me. The divine.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    A creature of God, mesmerizing, unlike any and all imperfect creations that make up mankind, lit up with a majestic, but also unnatural radiance, that would make even the moon turn its head, so as not to be blinded by its light. A faceless, yet eloquent countenance. A human, and yet otherworldly figure clad in an armor of silvery silk and bright chainmail, crafted with an artistry that could rival that of the continent¡¯s greatest blacksmiths.

    Was I hallucinating? Somehow, they felt like someone I had met already.

    My eyes closed shut. I felt I could finally lie, right then and there. I felt that if I died in this moment, it more than likely meant I was being accepted past the pearly gates. A messenger sent from someone watching me, to guide me, comfort me, tell me that it''s okay to rest, and it''s okay to give up.

    But then I felt it again. That same shock, the same feeling of my bones resonating in unison with anguish, with desperation, yet not one of survival, but for a purpose far greater than my own life.

    I jolted my eyes back open, tightening the grip on the handle of my broken sword, using it to push my shoulder up.

    Inch by inch, with trembling weakness, I used what little force I had left inside my muscles to push my body upwards using my wounded arm, propping myself back to a kneel with the blade. The pain was excruciating, but I ¡ª had ¡ª to keep going.

    The creature spoke to me, with the voice of a thousand authorities, in a mind-shattering volume, forcefully pushing their way into the insides of my skull.

    ¡°You were never meant to come back here. Have we not made ourselves clear?¡±

    Before I even realized what I just experienced, I let go of my sword and clutched my head, trying to resist the overwhelming urge to faint from this alien sensation. My knees buckled, and my head banged against the cold dirt.

    Yet, the creature cared little of my struggle, and continued.

    ¡°Adria, son of Arthur, leave this place at once. Our decision has been made, and it is final. This pointless affront is nothing but blasphemy.¡±

    Then, the screaming disappeared just as quickly as it came.

    I gasped for air, opening my eyes once more. My hands fell in front of me, and I used them to push myself back up, raising my head to look at the figure.

    Even though subtle, her expression changed. Brows furrowed upwards, and consequently, the light of her form dimmed, revealing her silhouette to be that of a young woman. Her voice also grew gentler, almost motherly in tone.

    ¡°Why must you struggle so?¡±

    She pauses for a moment, staring directly into me. Her eyes looked like the gateway to an opposed dimension I would become insane trying to understand.

    ¡°I¡­ sympathize. But understand this is just meant to be.¡±

    Upon hearing those words, a fire lit up inside my soul.

    Anger. Pure, unadulterated anger. The type that would make a man mad.

    The exhaustion burned away in an instant. It felt like I had to do something, my soul was urging me to action, but why? These strong feelings felt like that of a child¡¯s, a tantrum at nothing, but also towards everything at the same time. I hadn¡¯t the slightest clue where these emotions came from, or what they meant.

    Blinded by rage, I failed to notice the creature¡¯s expression change once more. This time, it was complex, like numerous emotions were clashing against one another. Her guise of composure was thinner, something¡­ human, was breaking through. But at that moment, for some reason unbeknownst to me, I could not bring myself to care.

    ¡°Adria¡­¡±

    That name. That damn name. For some reason I could not understand no matter how hard I tried, hearing it pushed me over the edge. Something plainly snapped.

    My hand reached towards the hilt of my broken sword, gripping it so tight that it made my hand hurt in pain.

    ¡°Do not dare use that name, creature of Light.¡± I spoke in rasped breath, a phrase that came to me somehow as natural as if it were muscle memory.

    In a swift emotional outlash, I used all of my remaining stamina to push my entire body weight upwards in a jump. The hand with which I was holding my sword lunged for her head, striking down the center of her left temple in a single impactful blow. The blade sunk into her face, edge cutting halfway into her eye.

    ¡°God may judge me as unfit to step into his Kingdom upon my death, but abandoning my purpose now will make even an eternity in the Empyrean ungratifying.¡±

    Somehow, those words felt like the appropriate thing to say. An itch I had to scratch, the cathartic feeling that I had just accomplished something I had wanted to do for a long time, contemporarily, an action that I would¡¯ve never been able to find redemption from.

    I let go of my sword and stepped backwards, as the creature in front of me fell to her knees, in an ironic twist of fate.

    ¡°I¡¯m Ansel, son of a wretched swine.¡±

    Her face tilted upwards, defeated, yet peaceful. Even in death, her composure did not falter. Golden ooze trickled down from her wound, curving down the tip of her chin, resembling a thin, single tear, staining her otherwise immaculate figure. It didn¡¯t take long for her body to tilt sideways, and eventually fall to the ground into a patch of dry grass, painting the individual blades in this worldly yellow color.

    ¡°...And I won¡¯t make his same mistake.¡±

 Chapter 2: From the Ashes

    I slowly lifted my eyelids up. The slit of a potent ray of sunshine hit me full force, forcing me to adjust my vision to a comfortable level. I had woken up from what felt like a terrible, intense nightmare.

    My body was numb, as though it just awakened from several weeks of slumber. But even so, I tried to lift my right hand up to intercept the light striking my vision and find an opportunity to inspect the place I had just woken up in. Suffice to say, it just ended up confusing me further, as I couldn¡¯t recognize it.

    The mattress I laid in was soft and comfortable, the likes of which I had scarcely experienced throughout the years. Walls and floor were eerily clean, almost untouched, or perhaps disinfected; was I in a hospital room?

    I dropped my arm onto my forehead. Just keeping it lifted felt like intense exercise.

    Although my mind was hazy, I could vividly recall where I was before ending up here, and that the memories of an entire life that had priorly escaped me were on the verge of coming back. I was about to recollect something fundamental that I had previously forgotten, my entire reason for living. But then, that woman.

    ¡ª ¡°Can you hear me?¡±

    An angel.

    ¡ª ¡°What?¡±

    With the realization that the voice was not in my own mind, I turned my head towards its direction. A girl, looking like her mid-twenties, was sitting on a wooden stool beside the bed I was in. She wore a gray nurse uniform ¡ª or maybe a doctor¡¯s ¡ª with a familiar patch on its left breast. The material didn¡¯t show its age, but the dried blood and filth patches were plentiful, making me wonder if they were all recent.

    She didn''t waste a single second, checking my bandages in rough and quick motions, lifting me up to my side and then back down, like this was a routine she had already done several times that day, and had just wasted the last drop of energy to care.

    ¡°Sorry love, I¡¯m married.¡± She said in a raspy, unamused tone, with the mug of someone who had been burnt out for years.

    Her expression was tired, and she had visible marks below her eyes.

    ¡°I¡­ where am I?¡± I asked, turning my stare to the arm I was previously resting on my forehead. The back of my hand was covered in a single large scar, starting from the left side just above the thumb, going inwards in a smooth line. The cicatrized skin looked fresh, soft, saggy.

    I turned it around to look at my palm. Same scar formation.

    It looked like something had sunk deep into the side of it not too long ago. I tried closing it, but the weakness that the wound had caused made me struggle to do so. No matter how hard I tried, I simply lacked the force.

    I felt a bit anxious at the thought of my hand having permanent loss of mobility, but that wasn¡¯t my most serious concern at that moment.

    ¡°One of Raspiel¡¯s outpost hospitals.¡± She said, getting up from her stool in a hurry.

    ¡°Apologies, but I have other patients to see. A nurse will escort you to your dormitory.¡±

    Raspiel? That name sounded extremely familiar.

    I looked back at her, the large patch on her stained uniform, and I finally recognized it: Raspiel¡¯s Cross! But before I had time to process it, the nurse turned around, and started walking away, towards the door.

    A feeling of urgency came over me, like I had to stop her right then and there or I would¡¯ve never gotten any answers. Of course, in retrospect, that might¡¯ve been an exaggeration.

    ¡°Wait!¡± I yelled, grabbing her by the sleeve. She looked back with a puzzled expression on her face.

    ¡°I-¡±

    And yet, I had no clue of what I wanted to say.

    So many questions were spiraling me in a vortex of confusion. So much ignorance, so much missing information.

    Who was I? How did I get here? Was my encounter real, or was it just a bad dream, a figment of my imagination? What did it all mean? I could not even begin to explain any of it, I had a need for a semblance of control, I felt so desperate to regain my balance. Alas, amongst so many options, I failed to find the right decision.

    ¡°Could I get a cup of water?¡±

    Silence.

    She stared at me, stunned. The expression of the tired overworked doctor quickly faded away, and in its place there was only what could be described as someone who had just seen a ghost, like I had suddenly woken her up from the trance she had subconsciously put herself in for her job.

    As though an eternity had just passed in those few seconds, she ended up not saying anything, only granting me a slight nod.

    Having one final look at her, I let go of her sleeve, before looking back down trying to break the awkwardness that I had just created. She hesitated for a moment, before finally walking out the room ¡ª now in a slower, more relaxed walk, closing the door shut behind her.

    And so, I was left on my own, to gather my hundreds of fleeting thoughts. Or so I believed.

    After a short time, I heard the door open again, and the nurse gradually stuck out her head from behind.

    ¡°...Ansel?¡± She said in an almost whispering volume, unsure of herself.

    I froze in place.

    That name.

    I could recall it was mine, I could recall I used it in my encounter with the angel, although it felt unfamiliar at the same time. As if I needed to be more disoriented than I already was. My head was hurting in confusion, but I closed my eyes and tried to use this circumstance to my advantage.

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    ¡°You know me?¡± I asked, genuinely surprised, yet trying to emphasize it.

    ¡°I thought it was you.¡± She said, this time in an audibly more excited tone, walking into the room and gently closing the door behind her once more.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure because of the¡­ beard.¡±

    ¡°Beard?¡± I said, touching my chin.

    My face was covered in a raggy, unkept beard, the kind a vagrant in the slums would have. It was bad, and despite my current situation, also more than a little embarrassing. The woman pauses for a moment, staring me down, as if trying to inspect me.

    ¡°You don¡¯t recall having a beard? How long have you been here?¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t I be the one asking you that question?¡±

    ¡°Usually yes, but I just got here.¡± She says, and then lowers her head, looking to her left, as if trying to prepare herself for what she¡¯s going to say next, locking her hands together. It is then that I noticed a wedding ring on her finger.

    ¡°Saying the frontlines are suffering losses would be an understatement. The empire needs all the doctors it can afford, so carriages from the capital are in a constant flow. I arrived here fairly recently.¡± She then looks back at me, a gentle smile on her face. ¡°I¡¯m glad I could meet you in relatively good health. Not even most knights of the Feuerlilie were as lucky.¡±

    The Feuerlilie, another name I¡¯ve definitely heard before.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m a bit dazed at the moment, what was your name?¡±

    She frowns, but only for an instant. ¡°I understand, I can¡¯t even begin to imagine what you¡¯ve gone through.¡±

    She walks closer, and sits back down on the same stool, pulling herself towards me.

    ¡°I¡¯m Kate, we met in Andonia, we used to be part of the same party.¡±

    ¡°Party?¡± I interject, confused.

    ¡°Sorry, the Navigators¡¯ Guild.¡± She explains, as if correcting a mistake she¡¯s made. ¡°We were part of the same Navigator party back when you were but a lad with nineteen years of age.¡±

    ¡°And you?¡± I ask. ¡°How old were you?¡±

    ¡°Back then, I used to be almost thirty.¡±

    I paused for a moment. She did not show her age. ¡°You¡¯re over thirty?¡±

    She looks at me with a slight grin. ¡°This year I¡¯ll be thirty-four!¡±

    Her expression, however, changed rather quickly to one of serious concern.

    ¡°You¡­ don¡¯t remember, do you?¡±

    She looks at me, realizing the state of which I¡¯m in.

    ¡°What happened to you?¡±

    Shifting around in the bed, I tried getting into a more comfortable position. My heart was relaxed, but the beat betrayed my current state of mind. Where would I even begin to explain? I wasn¡¯t even sure I knew what was real anymore. I didn¡¯t remember how I knew my name, or why I even forgot in the first place. Am I sane of mind?

    And that patch on her uniform, Raspiel¡¯s Cross, an icon that I felt so many emotions towards, and yet none of them I could describe as strong. They were simply nostalgic.

    ¡°Forgive me, Kate, I don¡¯t think I know.¡±

    My head turned to look at her. She had the look of a worried old friend, and part of me did not want to put the burden to find the validity of what I witnessed on such someone.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I remember anything. At all.¡± My stare wandered down again, to her chest. ¡°But I do vaguely recall that Cross.¡±

    ¡°Vaguely?¡± She says, like I just told her terrible news.

    ¡°Ans, you¡¯re a devout follower of the Cross.¡± She sighs, then continues. ¡°I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve ever met a more fanatical zealot than you.¡±

    Her expression shifts to that of a sad, yet tender smile, almost like she¡¯s looking at me in pity. ¡°But I guess this would be a positive change for you!¡± A single laugh escapes her, perhaps out of nervousness.

    ¡°Yeah?¡± I joined her, forcing a grin, trying to comfort her.

    Nevertheless, an awkward silence befalls us again.

    ¡°Hey¡­ Kate.¡± I hesitated, looking at her reaction, eyes now widened in expectation. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Who am I?¡±

    She bit her lip, trying to hold in the sorrow of watching an old acquaintance you once knew forget everything about themselves. I didn¡¯t envy her position.

    ¡°...I can¡¯t exactly tell you much, we haven¡¯t met in years, but.¡± She stops in her sentence, playing with the ring on her finger for a while. ¡°I know last time I saw you, you wanted to enroll in the royal army, to fight in the war.¡±

    For a moment, I pondered on what she told me.

    Even given my current state, I could tell that fighting in a war was not something I felt like I¡¯d ever want to do. At this rate, I was getting more questions than answers.

    ¡°Before that, I just knew you as a religious young man, trying his best to survive on his own in this cold world.¡±

    ¡°On my own?¡±

    ¡°Well.¡± She looked up, as if trying to find the words. ¡°Your mother died at the beginning of the war. When we spoke, I recall you told me your village was raided by barbarians, like most of the poor souls outside Raspiel.¡±

    A fragment of my past flashed in front of my eyes.

    I could see fire; ashes of my own home were accompanying the strong winds of that day. My hand reaching out to my mother.

    Her eyebrows sharpened down in anger, revealing the wrinkles of an actual thirty-year-old. ¡°Your father still lives, but not much of a father he is. Even though he¡¯s long retired from his duties, he abandoned you to rejoin the Feuerlilie Knights. He cared more about avenging her than to take care of you.¡±

    Noticing her frown and clear discomfort, I lay my hand on her knee.

    ¡°Kaytlinn, it¡¯s okay, I remember now.¡± I say, making sure she notices my smile.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    I lied to her, but not about remembering.

    The cross. Raspiel. The war. The Feuerlilies. Finally, some sense of stability.

    Her name was Kaytlinn, she always treated me like family, and when reminiscing about my past, I always avoided telling her the truth, so as to not burden her with my own shortcomings. She had enough on her own plate already.

    There never was any raid. My village was executed by the Raspelian army.

    If I told her the truth, the dream of becoming a doctor to save the lives of the people she cared about would simply turn into a moral dilemma for her, funding the very force of the ones who took my mother¡¯s life. I didn¡¯t want that. Despite her older age, she never handled her own emotions very well.

    As for why I enrolled, it was to get closer to my father. I don¡¯t know why he joined the army who took everything he had away from him, but there is no excuse that could ever redeem his decision.

    Abandoning me to avenge my mother? No, it was far worse than that, but she didn¡¯t need to know.

    Raspiel¡¯s Cross, on the other hand, was the symbol of a fanatic branch within the Empire¡¯s church. Only reason I joined it was because of simplicity; Members serving the Cross had an easier access to becoming a soldier for the military, perhaps because the Empire thought zealots would have less reasons to desert or rebel against their people. In other words, easy bait, which I gladly took.

    Carefully, trying not to tear my bandages, I got up from the bed, and shifted around so that I could face her eye to eye. The pain was discomforting, but bearable.

    My arms extended outwards and embraced her into a tight hug.

    In that instant, I felt like I was experiencing the warmth of a comforting campfire after months of walking on ice and snow. Everything felt numb, my head was killing me, but that didn¡¯t matter. I finally had a lead.

    While hugging her, however, it took me a while before noticing that she was sitting completely still. I retreated my hands from her and backed down into my bed. She looked completely bewildered.

    ¡°Forgive me, I-¡±

    ¡°N-No! It¡¯s alright.¡± Kaytlinn interrupts me, with a forced smile.

    Her head tilted down and stared at the floor, as if thinking about something. After a short while, she started playing with her wedding ring again.

    She then continued. ¡°I just¡­ a lot of things have changed since last I met you. I wouldn¡¯t even know where to start.¡±

    Me and you both, Kaytlinn. But right now was not the time for sharing each other¡¯s sob stories. I still had questions.

    ¡°Kate, I need to ask you something.¡± I said, waiting for her to look at me again. And yet, she didn¡¯t.

    ¡°Y-yes?¡±

    ¡°How did I get here?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± She asked, finally raising her head, but only enough to make me acknowledge that she was listening. The wedding ring was now off her finger, as she used it to fidget around nervously. ¡°The healers found you wounded on the battlefield, did they not?¡±

    I pause and try to find the best way I could explain myself without giving too much away.

    ¡°The last thing I remember is walking into a thicket the likes of which I had never witnessed in my years of living. The trees felt alive, but a life unlike simple nature is supposed to be a part of ¡ª breathing with the lungs of man, staring with the eyes of a stern elderly. My body¡­¡±

    Another flash, this time of the woman in silver armor. Her head layed gently the grass, bleeding liquid gold onto the dirt. Given the circumstances, I decide to keep it to myself.

    ¡°...It ¡ª almost ¡ª gave up on me. I remember walking, and then¡­ nothing.¡±

    After recalling my experience, I look back at Kaytlinn, which is now intently staring at me with perplexed eyes.

    ¡°Ansel.¡± She says. ¡°Your battle was fought on the empire¡¯s East side, where only sand lies. For thousands of miles.¡±

 Chapter 3: Splinters

    My head turned towards Kaytlinn. ¡°Is that so?¡± I asked, in a vain attempt of gathering enough time to process what I just heard.

    Her eyes just stared at me, but unlike how I thought they would. She was worried, yes, but her smile was tender. I was failing to understand if it was a look to comfort me or one of just pure pity.

    ¡°Ans...¡± She said, as her hand tried to reach out to mine, freezing with hesitance just before making contact. Giving up, she puts it on her knee, and pulls the chair closer.

    ¡°You¡¯re alright now. Relatively speaking.¡±

    Moments after finishing that sentence, she takes a quick glance at my eyes.

    ¡°...Perhaps I shouldn¡¯t have said that. Sorry. I¡¯m not good with bedside manners.¡±

    ¡°Bed manners? Am I dying?¡±

    ¡°What?! No!¡± She loudly exclaims. Putting her hands up.

    ¡°No. No. Nothing like that.¡± She tries to reassure me, waving them around nervously, saying ¡®no¡¯ in every way she can with her body language.

    ¡°How¡­¡± I hesitate, trying to twist the words in a way that I could accept, but I can¡¯t.

    ¡°How long do I have left?¡±

    ¡°Ans. Look at me.¡±

    It is then that Kaytlinn firmly grasps my hand, and gets her face so close that I can smell her. Her mild perfume is mixed with the metallic stench of blood on her clothes.

    ¡°You¡¯re not dying. I promise you.¡±

    Her reactive personality made it hard to trust her words, but I had never seen Kaytlinn this serious about something before. With the little memories that I had recovered at the time I thought so, at least.

    ¡°Then¡­ What is wrong with me?

    ¡°N-Nothing is wrong with you.¡± Kate says, clearly hesitating now. She¡¯s likely lying, but I decide not to push it any further, as she attempts to change the subject.

    ¡°I feel truly blessed that I could meet you again Ans, but I have to go now. Other patients need me.¡±

    Even though the tension is now unpleasant, I try to lighten up and not leave a bad impression. ¡°Right. I understand. It was nice to see you again too.¡±

    With that, Kaytlinn lets go of my hand, hurriedly getting up from the stool. She stands towering over my broken body for a short while, putting her wedding ring back on her finger and giving me one last smile, before turning around and marching back, not with the hurry of someone who¡¯s late for something, but neither with the patience of someone whose mind is clear of worries.

    The door closed behind her with a gentle locking sound, leaving me once more to my own thoughts. And there was a lot to think about.

    Amongst the disorder, I try to take a moment and think about everything gathered thus far.

    My father betrayed me and my mother, joining the very Raspelian army that slayed our village, all for reasons unknown to me. I later joined one of the groups operating under the Raspelian church; fanatics using the Raspelian Cross as their symbol, to ease my access into the military and eventually get promoted to the Feuerlilie knights, the most decorated veterans serving under the Emperor¡¯s crown, the branch of soldiers which my father was part of.

    The act of the religious zealot took a hefty toll on my psyche. I felt insane at times, acting like something I was not, and truth be told, the line got blurry at times, but I had to. I was still very far from my goal. Could it be that I had actually gone mad?

    What I saw before ending up here felt real to me. The details of that one night felt clearer in my fragmented mind than the very room before my eyes. Doubt was eating at me. That angel¡¯s celestial eyes, the blade of my shattered sword digging into them.

    ¡­My sword.

    Remnants of that night should still be out there somewhere. If someone brought me to this hospital, they must surely know something¡ªor at least be able to give me some type of closure.

    Before long, without realizing, I was beginning to gradually fall off to sleep again, thinking about my past life, my mother, the re-acquaintance of an old friend, everything. The sweet embrace of a dreamlike state washed over me, as my vision slowly faded to a familiar comforting darkness.

    Incorporeal, I began swimming into this ethereal void, as shards of what felt like a stranger¡¯s echoing memories surrounded me like vultures. My hand reached out to grab them, again and again, fading from my grasp as soon as I could clench it into a fist, all the while they laughed at me in mockery.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    After countless tries, I slipped on my own footing in exasperation, catching the fall by extending my arms outwards onto the ground. For a moment, I stared at the back of my hands fully spread in front of me, as the floor started to oddly resemble the texture of gravel and sparse blades of grass to my touch.

    With a sudden and great pressure on my spine, my elbows gave in. Unable to hold my weight, my head fell onto the cold sharp stones underneath me. I turned my head at the last moment and used my cheek to soften the fall, getting my skin bruised and cut on impact.

    Before me, a woman wearing white shining armor, in the same condition as myself, looked at me. Through me. With the stare of God-given judgment, as yellow liquid slowly creeped from the side of her head towards me.

    I tried to move, but I felt locked into place, like a dozen pairs of arms were restraining me from somewhere just outside of my range of vision.

    My breath became irregular. My pulse quickened. I felt trapped; suffocated.

    But then, behind the creature¡¯s silhouette, I saw a small hand¡ªa girl¡¯s, reaching out to me. With extreme ambivalent feelings of both intense desperation and the relief of a way out, I instinctively reached towards it.

    Somehow, I knew who they were.

    Were they coming to help me, or was I struggling like this in an attempt to help them?

    That¡¯s when I remembered¡­ Lulu.

    ¡ª ¡°Excuse me, sir.¡±

    Just like that, everything quickly faded into nothingness. The fleeting memory of what I just witnessed fled from me once again.

    Maybe another time.

    The sudden voice snapped me back out of the dream. This time, coming from a woman dressed as an actual nurse stepping into the room.

    She behaved exactly as Kaytlinn did with me when we initially met, with a constant speed and maximized efficiency, as if to make every second count.

    ¡°...Are all the nurses here in such a hurry?¡± I asked, rubbing my eye, but got ignored.

    ¡°Pardon the intrusion. I¡¯m here to escort you to your dorms. We need to assign another critical patient to this room.¡± She said, walking towards me, dragging along with her what looked to be an old rusted wheelchair.

    ¡°What is that?¡± Again I tried to inquire, yet still no answer. Upon walking up to the bed, she lets go of the wheelchair and tries to reach out and grab me by my shoulders. Discombobulated by the sudden intrusion, I dodge her attempt.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need that. I can walk fine on my own, thanks.¡± I said, while holding my hand up to her, motioning for her to stop what she¡¯s doing.

    ¡°Right. Suit yourself, but I need you out of here. Now.¡± She firmly, almost angrily replied, completely abandoning her professional facade.

    Not even having looked me in the eyes once in this entire exchange, without skipping a beat, she grabs the handles of the chair and leaves the room just as fast as she walked in, not even bothering to close the door behind her.

    I steadily get up, rotating my body towards the side of my bed, using the stool to prop myself on my feet.

    Everything aches. My legs can barely support my weight, and I feel ravenously starved, but I have been through worse. Slowly but surely, one bare foot in front of the other, I waddled my way to the exit, every step making a slapping sound against the wooden pavement.

    Once I finally stepped out of that room, it took me a few seconds to fully process what I was witnessing. The entire hospital was in pure chaos; only way I could describe what I saw in front of me was ¡®Hell¡¯.

    Several dozen medics in tight, crowded corridors were running around with people in old-era wheelchairs, even worse looking than the one the nurse brought into my room. People were loud, some were yelling orders to their co-workers, others screaming in pain, both in pure guttural anguish and with the weakness of a sore throat. It felt as if there were more blood splatters on the walls and floor of the hospital than in a slaughterhouse. Most patients were missing limbs, some of them had their entire heads wrapped in bandages, poorly hiding the grotesque mess of flesh underneath.

    Upon seeing the scene, my mind went blank in an attempt to save the little sanity I had left. Why was everyone else in these conditions? Why wasn¡¯t I? Were all these poor souls victims of the battle?

    I looked down at my own wraps, checking myself, touching in disbelief, making sure I was actually in one piece, but the realization that I was only made it worse.

    Guilt creeped into my soul, corrupting the only drop of stability I had built from my interaction with Kate. I was afraid again, anxious, back from when I first woke up feeling dazed.

    ¡°Sir, move out of the way.¡± A voice said authoritatively from my left.

    Two attendants¡ªa man and a woman¡ªwere making their way towards my direction, carrying yet another wounded person on a stretcher.

    I stepped to the side, giving enough space for them to enter the room I had previously slept in. On their way there, I catched a glimpse of the patient they were bringing inside: A man, looking of younger age than myself, with plaster covering the entirety of his right upper body where an arm should usually be, looking at me with an erratically moving pupil above his bloodied, absent lower jaw, which somehow did not hinder his ability to wail in agony.

    My ears were ringing. I felt sick to my stomach.

    ¡°Mister¡­?¡±

    Before the dizziness could completely overtake me, another worker came up to me with a pen and clipboard in her hand.

    I heard the screeching become muffled, as the door behind me closed.

    ¡°Your name?¡±

    ¡°N-Name?¡± I said, attempting to hold back my urge to throw up right in front of her.

    ¡°Right. Name. Name...¡±

    ¡°Yes. Your name.¡± She said, almost irritated at me for wasting her time, unfazed by the horrors in the background.

    ¡°Excuse him. He¡¯s Ansel.¡± Said a familiar voice from behind me. When I turned around, it turned out to be Kaytlinn. As if to acknowledge my look, she gives me a slight nod.

    ¡°Von Adler¡¯s son? No wonder he¡¯s in one piece.¡± The nurse interjects, mixing her own words with a long sigh. She clicks her tongue at the end of the sentence, likely as an involuntary tic to keep herself calm.

    ¡°Actually.¡± I interrupted both of them, looking back at the nurse.

    ¡°I¡¯d prefer to be recorded with my mother¡¯s name, von Necci.¡±

    Kaytlinn makes a small grimace in awkwardness, conscientious that she had just made a mistake and said something I disliked.

    The worker gives me an annoyed glance, but remains silent. Her pen presses into the clipboard, audibly drawing a line where she was previously writing in one swift motion.

    ¡°Mr. Necci, you¡¯ve been assigned to the psychiatric ward.¡± The nurse declares.

    ¡°Doctor Kaytlinn has diagnosed you with post-traumatic stress disorder, amnestic syndrome and severe psychosis.¡±

 Chapter 4: Bonds

    My thoughts disappear from me. The silence that settles between the three of us gives way for the infernal noises of the environment to break their way into my conscience once again.

    Looking back at Kaytlinn, I couldn¡¯t help but pair her figure with the commotion of the hospital, associating those horrifying shrieks with my current state of mind¡ªand at that point in time, blame it all on her.

    For a moment, even though no words were exchanged, only the two of us existed.

    I stared at her, mixing what felt like the betrayal of the only person that could be my leg to stand on into the boiling pot of my emotions, another drop into an already overflowing container.

    ¡°Ans¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡± Kaytlinn says, attempting to shorten the space between us. ¡°You weren¡¯t supposed to find out like this.¡±

    ¡°Find-¡±

    My face turns away in anger, as I try to suppress the extreme feelings with the little self-restraint that I have left in me, then look back at her.

    ¡°Find out like this? So you would¡¯ve kept it to yourself until the time I was to be taken away, when it wouldn¡¯t have been your problem¡ªwhen I wouldn¡¯t have been your problem anymore?¡±

    ¡°No, t-that¡¯s not-¡± She tried to reply, but no further sounds escaped her. She knew denying it would be a lie, and that she wasn¡¯t particularly good at those.

    I think back to when I told her about that night, about the forest. Good thing I didn¡¯t mention my encounter with that creature.

    ¡°You don¡¯t believe me¡­ you think I¡¯ve gone mad!¡±

    Her expression turned to one of fear, akin to that of a mother who just heard the news of her son dying in battle, as she raises her clenched fist up to her chest.

    ¡°Ans, please, listen.¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯m not-¡±

    ¡°ANSEL!¡±

    Kaytlinn suddenly yells. The volume of her voice shutting me up, completely freezing myself at its surprising intensity, loud enough to contest the chaos in the background.

    ¡°I-I can¡¯t¡­ I can¡¯t lose anyone else, Ansel. Not when I¡¯ve just met you again.¡± She says on the verge of tears.

    ¡°Whatever you saw is a clear symptom of trauma. I can¡¯t allow you in good conscience to go back out there, next time you may not come back in one piece.¡±

    ¡°Honestly.¡±

    I don¡¯t have enough time to think about what Kaytlinn told me before the nurse chimes in, and with an irritated tone of voice, she reprimands me. ¡°She¡¯s right, you know? You don¡¯t have the slightest clue how lucky you are to just step foot in here while still breathing.¡±

    She looks towards Kaytlinn with wandering eyes, almost as if recollecting about something, or someone.

    Upon hearing those words, I think back to the boy on the stretcher: his missing arm, his pained scream, his erratic eye looking at me¡ªas if it were pleading for death¡¯s release, an image that will probably be burned into my thoughts forever.

    But then, I think of my mother, of the visions from that night, the overwhelming urge that compelled me to walk those heavy steps. Whatever I saw, even if not real and just a vision of my delirious state, what I felt was real, the purpose driving me forward is still somewhere out there. I just needed to find it again. It might be the only way to find an answer to everything that has happened to me.

    ¡°Whatever I saw out there could explain why I¡¯m like this¡­ finding answers about that one night is just something I have to do.¡±

    My words took a moment to sink into Kaytlinn¡¯s mind, before she closed her eyes shut and looked down defeated, now teardrops flowing down her cheeks in streams, audibly sobbing. I felt bad for her, but at the same time, still felt betrayed enough to avoid consoling her.

    Dragging myself along by grabbing my leg with one arm while using the other to prop myself along the walls of the hospital corridors, I limped my way away from the two, leaving Kaytlinn be with her own thoughts. Going where? I didn¡¯t know, all I wanted was to get out of that place.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Mr. Necci, where are you going?¡± The nurse with the clipboard interrogated me.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know. Away from here.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. As far as I¡¯m concerned, you¡¯re mentally unstable.¡±

    I turn my head, just in time to see the woman raise her hand, looking around as if searching for someone, likely trying to call for security. Kaytlinn, however, shuts her down, gently grabbing hold of her arm.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay Julie, there¡¯s no need for this. I¡¯ll talk to him.¡± She says, lowering it and wiping away her tears with the back of her free wrist.

    The nurse then begins to whisper something to Kate. She answers her, lowering her voice to match hers, starting to have a hidden conversation masked by the loudness of the hospital.

    With my body weight pressed onto the elbow against the wall, impatient, but also frustratingly knowing that my wounded body could definitely not run away from armed guards if called on me, I decided to let it play out. From the looks of it, it seemed to be a pretty heated back and forth.

    After what felt like several minutes had passed, I noticed Kate stopped crying, now instead wearing a mask of sincerity on her face.

    ¡°Ans.¡± Kaytlinn calls to me, facing my direction.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go outside. Here.¡± She gets closer to me, delicately grabbing my shoulder and offering her hand to me. ¡°I¡¯ll help you walk.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need help.¡± I exclaim aggrievedly, moving my shoulder in an abrupt motion, so as to remove her arm from touching me.

    ¡°I can walk fine on my own.¡±

    Kate backs away, staying silent, her expression pained with sadness at my response.

    Glancing at her reaction, I felt a bit culpable, questioning for a moment my decision of retorting so aggressively. Nevertheless, still feeling backstabbed, I decide again to not say anything, choosing instead to double down on my impulse decision and hobble my way forward, dragging my stiff leg along.

    She followed me closely, letting me stubbornly lead her down hallways and turns without clear direction. Somehow, though, after a somber trip through the chambers of the underworld itself, the noise grew weaker. I had luckily taken the correct path to exit the building.

    As I pushed the wooden creaking door outward, strong sun rays collided with my vision, forcing me to adjust to their potent light before proceeding.

    Stepping outside, taking in a deep breath of fresh air, I observed my surroundings.

    The outpost was remarkably advanced for being just a makeshift military destination. Its fortifications were no mere palisades, made out of hickory logs about twenty feet tall, stacked compactly against one another, cobblestone and metallic alloy reinforcements at their base, even some mounted cannons along its perimeter. Roads were paved in stones and gravel, having the traffic of a few dozen people, all seemingly busy with their own task, organized and walking for their own reasons, with the occasional guardsman dozing off or playing card games.

    There were numerous erected buildings, each with their own unique purpose, populated by civilians and knights alike coming and going in and out of these places. This was no simple outpost, it looked more like an all-out settlement.

    Most of the troops wore a half-plate, which I recognized to be Raspelian, the same one I had on me in that accursed forest. Their protective capabilities were nothing to scoff at, adorned with red tabards bearing the Emperor¡¯s insignia, known by its enemies as the Dark Sun, and by the Raspelian people as the Advent: a large dot encircled with eight thorns, the northern and southern ones of which resembling spearheads, while the side ones were thicker, more elongated than the rest.

    They held steel polearms the size of them in one hand, with shortswords sheathed on the sides of their multiple ambiguously practical belts as backup weapons¡ªand finally, square shields with unique, singular spikes protruding from the center point, hanging off their back.

    Some of these soldiers though were blatantly more recognizable than the others, wearing intricate, elegant full armored garbs, scantily resembling an opaque bronze, with gold trimmings for decoration, alongside meticulously placed pieces of red silk hanging from the shoulder pads and chestplate, converging their flow into an imposing scarlet cape. Their outfit screamed of importance, needlessly complicated but nonetheless meant to strike fear to whoever would dare oppose them, uncharacteristic of the usual Raspelian soldier attire I was accustomed to; a crude and overly simplistic standardized equipment.

    Seeing Raspelia¡¯s army icons made me feel extremely nostalgic. Even though I thought I¡¯d despise everything they stood for, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to. Was my burning hatred drowned by the positive change of panorama, or was there something else at play, something that I couldn¡¯t remember?

    The outpost¡¯s contrasting atmosphere, the lively mood of various different people conversing with one another in drunken laughters, the sound of clinking and clanking metal coming from roaming infantry, the smell of freshly baked bread from a nearby cooking station, it almost sufficed to drown the state of mind the damned place I just left had caused me.

    While taking in the scenery, I had failed to notice Kaytlinn, who had already sat down on a nearby bench, and was just waiting for me to snap out of my mesmerized state.

    Her expression of sadness was unchanged, seldom daring herself to even just look at me in shame. Perhaps, I thought, I might have gone too far.

    I was unaware of her reasoning for wanting to keep me here, and although I hardly want to admit it, I could have indeed suffered from hallucinations while on death¡¯s door, it was not something outside the realm of possibility.

    Asking a friend for help, then abandoning them in their times of need, it made me remember my father. Just the thought of becoming his shadow was something I did not even want to believe possible.

    Dear heavens¡ªI owed Kaytlinn an apology.

 Chapter 5: Kaytlinn

    All hush hush, I made my way up to Kaytlinn¡¯s bench. She was making an attempt at averting her gaze from me, either to give herself time to try and put her jumbled up thoughts into speech, or just simply thinking about how to approach the situation. I, alas, had already decided what my next move was going to be.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Ansel, but I don¡¯t believe you¡¯re in your right mind.¡±

    Yet, before I can speak, her unexpected sentence hits me hard enough to cause whiplash.

    I turn my head instinctively towards her direction, furrowing my brows inwards to the point that I could feel their muscles stress, as my mouth opens agape in slight stupor at her words.

    Honestly didn¡¯t know what I was expecting her to say to me¡ªher stuttery stressed out attitude trying to give a reasoning behind her decision, or maybe an overly explained apology, but definitely not her doubling down.

    Kate¡¯s stare then locks onto mine, that tired looks of hers visibly unshaken, still underlined by the substantial eyebags.

    ¡°...Right.¡± I manage to muster up, blinking for a full two seconds, completely befuddled, getting stripped of the clarity I had as I try to regain my composure.

    She then continues.

    ¡°You don¡¯t want to end up in the ward, I get it. I wouldn¡¯t want to either. Especially because of how troops with Nyzcki¡¯s disease are treated. You have your pride and all that.¡±

    Nyzcki¡¯s. I remember. The story of the old veteran soldier who never truly left the battlefield behind, even after coming home to his loving wife. Fitting name for fighters whose war changed them into husks of their former selves, men that even in times of peace will hold on tight to their bedside daggers.

    The name, of course, is only a cruelly ironic joke. While healers and scholars alike use scientific names to describe illnesses of the mind, none quite stick to the average person as the relatable story of little old Nyzcki.

    ¡°Sorry, are you the same Kaytlinn that was crying just a moment ago?¡± I inquired, genuinely confused at her seemingly sudden change of personality.

    ¡°Because I¡¯m that Kaytlinn¡ª¡± She looks away from me, now her eyes wandering around the people of the outpost. ¡°I can¡¯t let you out there again.¡±

    Kate leans forward, hanging her head slightly down, her arms resting crossed on top of her knees.

    ¡°I thank the Gods you¡¯re still in one piece, but this is where divine intervention ends and your trauma becomes a problem only a medic can help with. I know you don¡¯t want to see yourself grow old inside a room full of doctors, ones that will treat you like you¡¯re mad for the rest of your life.¡±

    Her head turns back to face me.

    ¡°I apologize for trying to rid myself of you. I just didn¡¯t¡ª¡± She stops herself mid-sentence, her voice shifting in a more defeated tone. ¡°Don¡¯t have the strength necessary to see you in this state.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m guessing you won¡¯t let me leave like this either.¡± I reply, mildly irritated.

    ¡°Yes. I won¡¯t allow you on your own, but I see now that a decision like this holds responsibility.¡±

    ¡°Then¡­ what? What¡¯s your plan?¡±

    ¡°Ansel.¡± She straightens her back, looking at me with a face full of conviction, lowering her voice. ¡°Let¡¯s go back. To Andonia.¡±

    Before I can process what Kaytlinn just said, she explains. ¡°There¡¯s nothing worth fighting for here, we both lost too much to this war, I don¡¯t want us to lose each other too.¡±

    As she finishes her thought, her eyes are locked on me, expectant of an answer.

    ¡°...But, what about your duty? I-I mean our duty.¡± I quickly correct myself, trying not to let my true intentions slip up.

    ¡°You¡¯re proposing desertion. The Raspelian laws are¡ª¡± Again, I catch myself before revealing anything that could be mistaken¡ªor rather, correctly deduced¡ªas negativity towards the crown.

    ¡°Well, they¡¯re very clear about desertion. Wasn¡¯t your entire reason for studying at the Andonian university to become a field doctor and save lives?¡±

    ¡°It was.¡± She firmly replies. ¡°But that was years ago, things have changed since then.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t like being a doctor anymore?¡±

    Her gaze finally breaks away from mine, as she looks back at the view in front of her, as if reminiscing about something.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°That¡¯s a tale for another time.¡±

    Then, we sat in quietude for a while.

    I thought about what had been said between the two of us for a moment. The conversation went in a direction I didn¡¯t predict.

    Kate was not how my memories recalled her, she had grown bold, bitter. A few years as a frontline medic had seemingly changed her, yet if for better or worse, that I did not know. Perhaps I had misjudged her.

    ¡°To be entirely honest with you.¡± I say, breaking the silence between us. ¡°When I walked here, I wanted to apologize for having lashed out at you. I thought you were the old Kaytlinn, the one I remembered being highly emotional, but also pure, always ready to help someone in need.¡±

    Another memory flashes before my eyes.

    I remember arriving in Andonia, when I first became an orphan after what happened to my village. I walked all the way on foot. At the time, I knew which path to follow because my mom would send me on errands every once in a while.

    After making it to the gates of the city, the blood of the slaughtered on my shirt had already dried out.

    There were no guards to welcome me¡ªin fact, the entire town seemed to be engulfed in chaos, but at the time I didn¡¯t care enough to understand the situation.

    Only one woman in the midst of everything noticed me. She looked not much older than me, with a beautifully crafted medical satchel hanging from her shoulder, spotless, almost as if it was standing proud of its own inexperience.

    The lady stopped in her tracks, masking her own stress with an awkward smile, making a poor attempt at calming down a child she had just met amidst the mayhem.

    ¡°A-Are you hurt?¡± She said, kneeling down to my level, grabbing me by the shoulders with trembling hands and moving me around every which way to check if I was all right. In her own panic, she failed to see that I had been standing motionless the entire time, gazing past her at the people running in the background.

    ¡°Hey! W-What¡¯s your name buddy?¡±

    She positioned herself in front of me, forcing me to notice her. My vision started to focus again, intently analyzing her facial features.

    As if a small crack appeared on a massive dam, the thoughts trickled back into my brain, then¡ªwith overwhelming force¡ªflooded into every little nook, cranny and crevice. I had been in a mindless trance up to that point, my brain trying to protect me from what I had just gone through while guiding its own body like a marionette, now ultimately letting loose all those pent up emotions.

    My eyes widened, then a tear, and then another. Before long I was completely sobbing, crying my eyes out, incoherently rambling about something, not even knowing what.

    ¡°No! No! Don¡¯t cry!¡± The lady shook me like a broken toy, emotionally unprepared to deal with my outburst.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay!¡± She clumsily threw her arms around me, trying to hug me, not too tight, unnerved by the blood I had on me, like she was being careful not to catch a disease from me.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s okay.¡± She kept repeating, over and over again. To this day, I still don¡¯t know which one of us she was trying to comfort with those words.

    The memory then fades, and I come back to the present.

    ¡°But you¡¯re definitely not that lady anymore.¡± I finish my sentence, long overdue.

    ¡°Huh.¡± Kate scoffs. ¡°Should I take it as a compliment?¡± She says, cracking a smile.

    ¡°Maybe. I don¡¯t know.¡± I smile back for a short moment. ¡°Or maybe we¡¯ve just both lost that kind of innocence now, stripped away against our wishes.¡±

    I turn towards the outpost. My gaze tries to find whatever Kaytlinn was looking at when in deep thought during our conversation, but there¡¯s nothing of interest to me, so I resign myself to just watching the birds on the horizon flap their wings. Strangely, I can''t help but notice them flying towards us in flocks, as if something had disturbed them, but before losing myself in the insignificant details, I get my mind back on track.

    With a knee slap and deep breath in, I continue.

    ¡°But as you said, a tale for another time.¡±

    Shifting myself around on the bench, I turn towards Kaytlinn once again.

    ¡°I agree to these terms.¡± I say in a jokingly posh intonation. ¡°On one condition.¡± I continue, raising my index finger, making sure she notices it.

    The trap is laid down, and Kaytlinn bites.

    ¡°Sure, what is it?¡± She says, a small laugh escaping her.

    My face becomes stern; my voice turns serious.

    ¡°I need to talk to the person who rescued me. I want confirmation on what I saw¡ªor didn¡¯t see, yesterday. For my peace of mind.¡±

    Kaytlinn¡¯s smile fades away, and she sighs.

    ¡°I guess. I don¡¯t see why not, it shouldn''t hurt to make sure. Trees with eyes in the heart of the desert would make quite the discovery if it turns out you were right.¡± She says, humoring me.

    ¡°Then, it¡¯s agreed.¡±

    I extend my hand forward. She reaches out, again hesitating to touch me, but ultimately squeezing it lightly.

    ¡°So, who is he? My rescuer?¡±

    ¡°Oh. I-I would have to ask around. I¡¯m not sure¡ª¡±

    Kaytlinn pauses.

    She turns her head towards the outpost again, looking up, eyes widening in surprise¡­ or is it shock?

    The sky turns gray, a vague shadow of something passing by her figure. Before I can look at what it is, however, she clenches her hand tight enough for me to feel pain, quickly jumping up from the bench and to the side, pulling me along with her in one strong motion. We both fall onto the ground cobblestone with a loud thump. Shortly after, I hear several dozen whistles coming from near us, all abruptly interrupted, as if smashing against something, or perhaps cutting into it.

    I push myself up with my free hand, to give myself enough free space and look behind me. Lines of arrows, each single one half the size of me, all skewered into the walls of the hospital we just had our backs turned to.

    Screams erupt from the workers. The clanking metal sounds of the guards¡¯ heavy armors becomes louder. In the distance, a loud, deep horn can be heard.

    I recognize it: the horn of battle. My muscles tense up.

    The outpost is under attack.

 Chapter 6: Invasion

    Guided by the reverberating sound of the warhorn, the guardsmen mobilize.

    At the same time, I feel something inside of me awakening. At that moment, something inside me awakens. Like a switch flipping, lucidity floods my mind, pulling me into a sharp, mechanical state. It¡¯s not quite adrenaline, but still something vaguely familiar.

    Kaytlinn lets go of my hand and slips away from beneath me, trying to stand back up on her feet, but something goes wrong, and her poor attempt makes her fall down to a kneel, hissing in slight pain.

    ¡°Kate! Are you alright?!¡± I yell, supporting myself onto a knee to stand back up. As I put pressure on it, a sharp stabbing pain makes me stagger, but I ultimately manage to keep my balance. Evidently, it hasn¡¯t fully healed yet.

    ¡°Ah! Yes¡ª¡± Her eyes dart in a dozen directions, before raising her head, taking a quick glance at me, and then finally looking back down at the ground. ¡°I just¨C I fell on my ankle wrong, but I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Raising the hem of her pants, she begins inspecting her foot.

    ¡°Actually¡­¡± She continues, putting her cupped palm on the side of it in a massaging motion. ¡°I-I think it¡¯s twisted.¡±

    Shit.

    ¡°S-S-Should we get back inside the hospital?¡± She asks me, visibly shaking.

    ¡°No.¡± I say, sternly.

    ¡°What? Why?¡±

    I pause. Her question clung to me.

    It¡¯s true, her idea on the surface didn¡¯t seem inherently wrong. We could¡¯ve just gone to hide and wait this out, but something subtle just behind my own conscious reasoning was telling me not to.

    I turn around to analyze the situation. The workers are mostly erratic, pushing each other around out or inside of buildings. A mother dashes towards her child, who¡¯s playing with a wooden toy on the floor, snatching him into her arms without slowing down, running in a straight line away from the gates. A baker, crossbow in hand, tries to rally the crowd of citizens and calm them down, but it is useless, it¡¯s everyone for themselves. The soldiers, however, while obviously on high alert, follow a logical pattern to their methods, every single one of them. Archers run on top of the walls in unison, readying their bow as soon as they arrive at an individually designated position. The infantrymen, in equally coordinated movements, prepare the mounted cannons with sacks of gunpowder, while the ground reinforcements stand in a line, shoulder to shoulder, brandishing their halberds, creating a barrier made out of flesh, steel and crimson.

    This is the Emperor¡¯s army, the force of Raspelia. Clean, organized, obedient show-offs.

    Then, a second wave of those bulky arrows darkens the horizon. Thankfully, whoever is on the other side of those walls seems to have aimed for the troops in the front this time, giving me and Kaytlinn time to think of something before the next wave.

    ¡°Kate. Quick. Is there an escape route out of the fort besides the main entrance?¡±

    I get another short glance from her, but it gets immediately interrupted as soon as there is eye contact.

    ¡°Uhm¨C There is. I think. Kind of.¡± She says, as I hop over to her, wrapping my arm around her neck in an attempt to sustain myself from falling, but also being careful not to put my entire weight on it.

    ¡°Kind of? What¡¯s ¡®kind of¡¯? What does that mean?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡ª¡±

    ¡°The short version of ¡®kind of¡¯ please.¡± I clarify, interrupting her before she can reply, encouraging her to start walking with a shoulder nudge.

    A loud ¡®boom¡¯ is heard in the background. Something being hit, then rocks falling, followed by men groaning and the sound of units marching.

    ¡°The tunnels! The tunnels.¡± Kaytlinn yells.

    ¡°Tunnels. Of course. Okay. Give me the slightly longer version.¡±

    She puts her own arm on my back, hobbling along with me, one foot at a time.

    ¡°The sapphire mines of this outpost.¡± She explains. ¡°The tunnels. I think they¡¯re connected to a cavern just outside of here. But¡ª¡±

    The cannons in the distance all fire together with a popping sound, cutting her out. She ducks her head down at the surprising noise.

    ¡°But what?¡± I impatiently urge her to continue.

    ¡°B-But I¡¯m not¡­ certain of it.¡± Her voice trembles.

    I close my eyes, hitting the side of my fist against my forehead repeatedly in anger.

    Our choices are between sitting here, twisting our thumbs, putting our faith in the small outpost garrison, somehow hoping they¡¯ll be able to defend against an all out hostile attack, or try and escape using underground tunnels that could be connected to a cave system outside the fortress. On the other hand, if Kaytlinn is wrong, we could get trapped inside, risking the ceiling crumbling on top of us. That is, assuming it hasn¡¯t already. A fine fucking mess.

    ¡°Can you walk?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yes. But¨C what about Sarah, Julie, the others?¡±

    ¡°Kate. We¡¯re deserting, remember? They¡¯re Raspelians. They¡¯re not going to abandon their posts. Forget about them.¡±

    Kaytlinn looks at me in disbelief. She prepares to say something, to ask me ¡®how could you say that?¡¯, to condemn my comment, tell me I¡¯m heartless¡ªyet, deep down, there¡¯s a mutual understanding between the two of us, the knowledge that my words were not far from the truth, the selfishness of our own survival.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    So, we keep limping. Slowly. As she guides me to our destination, conveniently enough in the opposite direction of the ensuing fight.

    Again, another explosion, this time much closer. Several people scream. I look back to see that there¡¯s now a massive hole in the bulwark, made by a trebuchet shot. The structure, moments after, begins collapsing, bringing along the archers standing on top of it and burying them in a grave of dust and debris. It¡¯s as if the rubble itself starts bleeding, painting and spraying the stone below in guts and gore.

    Far behind us, a knight shouts. ¡°Breach! Retreat, retreat! Retreat!¡±

    Shortly after, in an orderly fashion, the line of infantry falls back, gaining some space between themselves and the incoming enemy force. As they do, we reach the entrance of the mine: a dug out corridor, about three meters in height, going through one of the sandstone cliffs that the outpost is built upon, wooden beams nailed tightly onto one another to support the ceiling every few meters along the way. The beams seem sturdy enough to withstand a little ground vibration, but I still hesitate.

    ¡°Wait.¡± I tell Kate.

    We stop.

    ¡°W-What is it?¡± She asks nervously.

    ¡°...Let¡¯s wait. We should be fine for now. I¡¯d like to avoid going inside such a cramped space unless absolutely necessary.¡±

    I pull my arm back from her, as she does the same. Hopping a few steps forward, I carefully shift around, trying to sit on the sandy cobblestone pavement.

    Kaytlinn, still full with nervous tremors, double, triple checks that the battle is happening far away from us, before letting herself fall on the floor next to me, hugging her knees close.

    We both watch as the fighting ensues.

    In the far distance, I can see the horde entering from the collapsed rubble. They¡¯re wrapped from head to toe in loose pastel brown clothes, with what appears to be vests made out of iron scales, woven together in the form of a mail. They¡¯re holding an assortment of weapons, ranging from simple round maces to pretty primitive-looking spears, almost like they¡¯ve been equipped with any piece of scrap that could be found. Amongst them, I notice not only young and old, decrepit men alike, but women too. A handful of them, unarmed, rush past all the others, waving their hands and wailing in a foreign language I don¡¯t recognize. At the sight of these people, the Raspelian soldiers seem to be perplexed. Although they easily take care of them, it somehow feels like most just run straight into their halberds, or purposely stick themselves onto the spikes of their shields.

    Something feels strange¡­ these are not fighters, they¡¯re just cannon fodder.

    I see a bright light, and then a bang. Kaytlinn jumps at the sudden sound, and so do I. From the opposite side of the battle, a similar flash, then another bang. One after the other, the enemy troops explode into a thick red mist, lingering into the air for a while before settling down. They¡¯re blowing themselves up with gunpowder. I watch in horror as the front lines get utterly devastated in a matter of seconds. About two dozen men¡ªalmost in full plate¡ªfall to the ground or get blown to smithereens. Dust falls from the entrance to the mines following the shock, as the wooden supports shake and wobble, even if just a small amount, showering us in filth. The crimson enclosure breaks, weak points now being exploited by the more geared up opposing forces, using them to encircle and advance further into the territory.

    Now, though, those Raspelian knights in bronze garments seem to be stepping forward. There¡¯s scarcely six or seven of them, yet even though outnumbered, they march with purpose. They unsheathe their swords when they¡¯re but two steps away, starting to pierce and slash the scantily dressed enemies with ease. The invaders try their best to get through the odd armors they¡¯re wearing. However, the weird material that they seem to be made of acts illogically: the slashes of swords bounce back off them, meanwhile the hard blows of clubs and maces seem to be absorbed, as if the weapons were hitting pillows stuffed with feathers. The knights don¡¯t even flinch at the numerous hits, dancing around the battlefield, sowing death along their path, thinning out their numbers with surgical precision and expertise. Their skill feels almost unnatural, as if they¡¯re not even taking this seriously, like they¡¯re flowing from one space to another with the elegance of coursing water, and the way their outfits behave; it is nothing short of sorcery, like witnessing the warriors of myths spring to life from the pages of old, unfazed by the rules that hold back everyone else¡¯s reality.

    Past the crowd of simple invaders, the main frontlines seem to be stepping up now. Unlike the others, they¡¯re wearing crude metal bracers, shoulder pads and helmets, intimidating ones at that, with masks portraying the contorted faces of evil spirits in a permanent screaming expression.

    All of them now have consistent equipment with one another, including wrought iron bucklers and two-handed polearms, with a uniquely designed curved blade on the tip resembling a fish hook. These are actual warriors.

    I look over to Kaytlinn. Even though very clearly distressed at the sight of all this¡ªperhaps out of morbid curiosity¡ªher eyes, peeking from over her knees, are locked onto the ongoing conflict.

    ¡°Who are they?¡± I inquire, trying to get her out of the current hypnotic state.

    Her head lifts up, slightly startled. She¡¯s justifiably jumpy.

    ¡°Which o-ones? The knights in melkite?¡±

    ¡°Melkite?¡± My eyebrow raises in confusion. The name definitely rings a bell.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m no expert, but as far as I know melkite is a powerful mixture made out of andonite.¡±

    Andonite. Black tears. I remember the rest.

    An extremely rare dark metal found only in small amounts on Andonia¡¯s riverbeds, hence the name. Immensely sturdy.

    Some odd years ago it was used by nobles of Raspelia as a lavish symbol of power, only recently discovering its incredibly malleable attribute when heated beyond a certain temperature. Through experimentation, this state was found to be maintained when alloyed with gold, creating a leather-like material in terms of flexibility, while also still being near impossible to pierce through, unless brought back to a high temperature again.

    ¡°At any rate; they¡¯re the knights of the Feuerlillie order, one of the highest honors bestowed on war veterans of extraordinary skills.¡± Kaytlinn finishes.

    ¡°What about the invaders? Those men with scary-looking masks?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re the Koshak.¡± She explains.

    ¡°You were sent to fight against them. Your battle happened at the outskirts of Al¡¯Saava, a city under their control. This outpost was also theirs, before Raspelia captured it.¡±

    ¡°This fortress was theirs?¡±

    I look around, observing the architecture with a newfound perspective.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Kate continued. ¡°It used to be a simple excavation settlement, before the army militarized it.¡±

    ¡°So this is not an invasion, but a counterattack¡­¡± I mutter in whispered breath.

    ¡°Or revenge.¡± She interjects. ¡°I heard that when it got captured, the commander wasn¡¯t fond of the idea of having more mouths to feed, especially in a position so deep into enemy territory that supply routes are yet to be established, so he gave the order of¡­ ¡®no prisoners¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± I exclaim, trying not to let my true emotions peek through. ¡°I see.¡±

    One of the knights engage with the Koshaks, attempting an attack, but their weapons clash. A swing there, a stab here, the sound of metal striking fills the air. Even though the enemies¡¯ number far surpasses the lilies¡¯, they are nowhere near their level in skill. That said, they¡¯re still definitely putting up quite a fight, as the knights are getting visibly tired out due to the battle of attrition.

    Despite their better show of strength, the sky turns gray once again.

    Another wave of arrows rain down from the heavens, the sheer number of them being enough to overwhelm even the special units while they¡¯re occupied to fight with blades. The giant bolts pierce through their armor, sparks flying off the pure friction like a fountain, tearing off the flesh underneath those layers of protection, slamming their bodies into the ground along in their trajectory.

    I turn towards Kaytlinn.

    ¡°Time to go.¡±

 Chapter 7: Stench

    After witnessing that gruesome scene, the little hope I had faded to dust.

    The lilies, supposed ¡°elite forces¡± of the Raspelian army, were exterminated in but an instant by the staggering amount of incoming projectiles, all the size of a common longsword, and the handful amount of garrison troops that remained would¡¯ve been no doubt disposed of shortly after. Our only option left was to flee before either side could notice.

    I stood up, brushing the dust off my ragged gambeson and then helping Kaytlinn back on her feet.

    Slow and steady, we walked into the mines with coordinated movements, one step after another, making sure neither of us put too much pressure on their injured limb.

    With the screaming of men and clashing of metals now only faintly echoing throughout the corridor, the light of the sky began being replaced with the artificial one of dimly lit oil lamps scattered across the floor, amongst piles of wood planks, nails, crude pickaxes and various other tools. How come were some of them still on? And that odor¡­

    ¡°Kate, has anyone been using these mines since the Raspelian occupation?¡±

    My voice softly repeated back to me from across the tunnels in echo.

    ¡°N-not that I know of. Why are you asking?¡±

    But instead of answering her question, I replied with another.

    ¡°When was this outpost captured?¡±

    ¡°Uh.¡± Her eyes squinted, trying to remember. ¡°About a fortnight before I got drafted. And I¡¯ve been on the road here for a couple days.¡±

    As we walk closer into the lamps¡¯ light, I notice something strange come into view on the stone pavement, a shape, one that stands out from the rest. I stop in my tracks and throw out my arm, so as to block Kaytlinn¡¯s path.

    ¡°What? What is it?¡± She turns to me and whispers. Again, I don¡¯t respond.

    Cautiously, I advance to inspect the foreign object from up close. However, after taking my first step, Kaytlinn grabs my collar and pulls me back.

    ¡°Can you stop doing that?!¡± She asks, furious, yelling under her breath.

    Surprised by the sudden move, I turn around.

    ¡°Doing what?¡±

    She scowls. ¡°Not telling me anything. Ignoring my questions! Acting all cryptic all the time! What the hell is wrong with you?!¡±

    Her voice raises with each sentence.

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Yet before I can reply, she talks over me, her words now quiet again.

    ¡°What is going on? What did you see?¡±

    Silence settles between us for a short time as I dither.

    The realization that her words hold some weight to them disturbs my concentration. The trance I had previously entered becomes evident once it dissipates just as quickly as it appeared.

    ¡°Oh.¡± I manage to utter, heeding her words.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°There¡¯s something on the ground.¡±

    Kate¡¯s eyes dart toward the murkily illuminated floor. Anger turns to uncertainty, then to wariness. Her stare lands on the same conspicuous shape, clearly distinct from other shadows.

    ¡°May I?¡± I ask.

    Shortly after, she gives me another quick glance, before letting go of my clothes. As she does, I carefully squat down to pick up the lamp.

    With Kaytlinn anxiously watching from a safe distance, my breath held in suspense, I hover the lantern above the mysterious item. It¡¯s a hand.

    My vision goes blurry. The dark background begins to dance and shift around and about as my lungs abruptly stop working. Another memory flashes before my eyes.

    The forest. The mist. That woman. Everything that happened yesterday replays in my mind, sped up. My sword sinking into the creature¡¯s temple, golden drops trickling from her wound, then a bright spark, and then nothing. It¡¯s not darkness; not an absence of light, but rather an absence of everything, a blindness of someone without the eyes to see, the blindness of a child in her mother¡¯s womb. I try to scream, but nothing comes out of my mouth. A faint voice coming from all around me calls my name, yet my body cannot move. At the same time, a strange flavour creeps up from under my tongue, almost metallic in taste. It¡¯s sickening, but as seconds go by, it increases in intensity, until it reaches a point where the nausea becomes unbearable. I try to scream again, forcing myself with every ounce of strength to make a sound¡ªto make any sound at all escape me, but nothing works. My breath quickens, heart now sending sharp, vibrating pain through my chest with every beat. Again, a voice from behind me calls my name, yet I cannot move, as I become progressively weaker at the feeling of something going terribly wrong, the urge to vomit now almost completely overwhelming me, but my face gets slapped back to reality.

    ¡°Ans.¡± Kaytlinn grabs my shoulder, as I hold my reddened cheek. ¡°Now¡¯s not the time to be squeamish.¡±

    She reaches for the lamp. I instinctively loosen my grip, letting it fall into her grasp.

    After making sure that I¡¯m okay, she proceeds to take the lead, hobbling forward over to what is in front of us. In the lantern¡¯s projection, the highlights reveal a humanoid figure on the ground, wearing just simple tattered clothes, laying on its back in a pool of blood. Needless to say, it¡¯s dead, but the body doesn¡¯t look rotten, it¡¯s not been here for very long.

    ¡°Ah. I knew him.¡± She says, her words carrying a hint of sadness in them.

    ¡°You did?¡±

    She sighs, walking over to it, his facial features now illuminated and in full display. The eyes are open, but devoid of any light. His right hand¡ªthe one I saw before my memory got triggered¡ªis positioned near his head, closed shut, almost as if holding something, while his left is distortedly contorted, hanging just above his neck.

    Upon closer inspection, there¡¯s a trail of blood originating from a wound just between his chin and throat. The piece of something shiny glints inside. A broken blade, perhaps a dagger.

    ¡°Markus. He was part of the caravan that transported me here. Worked as a guard.¡± She says, limping closer to the body. ¡°He was a good man.¡±

    ¡°Do you know who might¡¯ve done this?¡± I ask her.

    ¡°Don¡¯t have a clue.¡± Her head shakes. ¡°I saw him just last night with a basketful of bread. When I questioned him, he said ¡®he and a few mates were celebrating something¡¯, to not tell the sergeant about his whereabouts if asked.¡±

    ¡°Celebrating with bread?¡± I inquire, confused.

    ¡°Weird, I know, but I didn¡¯t question him further. Even though a nice boy, he wasn¡¯t the brightest, so it didn¡¯t seem that much out of the ordinary.¡±

    A Raspelian soldier on-duty sneaks out during the night for a supposed ¡®meeting¡¯, carrying loaves of bread, that we find dead the next day inside abandoned excavation tunnels with barely his briefs on, murdered by a broken dagger lodged into his throat. Nothing about this situation adds up.

    ¡°Well¡ªhis equipment is gone, and I don¡¯t see any basket around.¡±

    ¡°Was it¡­ looters?¡±

    ¡°This far up inside a Raspelian-controlled fort? I don¡¯t think so. We don¡¯t even know if these mines connect to the outside yet.¡±

    ¡°Well." She says, raising her lantern. "We can¡¯t go back now.¡±

    ¡°That is true.¡± I reply. ¡°But we should be on our guard from now on.¡±

    ¡°You weren¡¯t already?¡±

    I huff, slightly irked at her comment.

    ¡°I just meant that now we¡¯re most likely in imminent danger. We¡¯ll have to be ready, especially given our current predicament. Someone, or something, could be hiding inside these mines, and we no longer have an army between them and us.¡±

    ¡°Something?¡± Kaytlinn asks, puzzled by my choice of words. She must still be skeptical of my story. Lost in thought, I break eye contact; it¡¯s best not to argue about it now.

 Chapter 8: DèŒ…jè„¿ Vu

    Following Kaytlinn, we went down, deeper into the tunnel, with my instincts screaming at me that there was something inherently wrong with this place. Moving forward was an uncertainty, now even more than ever. And yet, behind us would¡¯ve surely awaited a life in captivity as slaves of war, if not certain death. It felt as if my life until this point¡ªor at least, after my memories got erased¡ªhad been nothing but mystery piled atop another mystery, and instead of finding clues, I was just finding even more questions. What was my vision about? Was that a memory, or perhaps something yet to happen?

    Alas, our decision was made. Turning back now would¡¯ve been a greater risk than to continue further. I would rather have to deal with whatever bandits or looters could be hiding inside these mines than trying to sneak around an entire enemy army. That is, with any hope that bandits were all that expected us down here.

    Minutes, hours seem to pass, but the way out is still nowhere to be seen.

    ¡°How much until we, uh, reach the exit?¡± I asked Kaytlinn, as we limped our way past a corner, my voice barely above a whisper. The lingering smell of something rotten was permeating in the air.

    She turned around to face me, the slight shaking of her lantern flickering the shadows it cast, occasionally hitting the small sapphire chips and dust along the walls.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She answered in an annoyed, yet apologetic tone.

    As she said those words, a hint of something else plagued her expression, although I was unsure of what.

    ¡°In all honesty, it kind of feels like we should¡¯ve been there by now.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± My voice shook, unable to contain the anxiety and stress of the situation. Unarmed, injured, deep inside an abandoned enemy mine. The more I thought about it, the more thoughts raced their way to fog my concentration. Kate, thankfully, managed to reply quickly enough to keep them from spiraling, albeit only for a short time.

    ¡°The structure, the architecture of the outpost itself¡­ I don¡¯t exactly know how to explain it. From what I saw outside the fortress¡ªfrom the entrance I saw at a glance on the other side of the sandstone mountain; it feels like we¡¯ve walked double the distance it would¡¯ve taken us to reach it from one side to the other.¡± She elaborated, her fingers gripping the lamp tighter in unease.

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s just because I¡¯m really eager to get out of here.¡±

    She let out a forced laugh, trying her best to shift the tone in something less daunting. The echoing sound followed by the immediate, absolute silence, though, only served to have the opposite effect. It could¡¯ve been called almost tranquil, if not for the reek of a decomposing corpse following us wherever we went.

    It¡¯s then, in the creepy quietude, that I notice a glimmer in the distance, something reflecting off our light, likely metallic. Kaytlinn¡¯s step grows slower, but doesn''t entirely stop, as our curiosity takes the better of us.

    We walk closer to the shimmer, hearts stuck in our throats, preparing ourselves to react at the first sign of movement, aware of the fact that given our wounds, we¡¯d have a better chance at fighting than running away.

    Shapes slowly get more and more distinct, its material now fully enveloped by the dim light of the burning oil.

    ¡°Jesus.¡± I murmur, letting out a sigh of genuine relief. Before us is just another one of those old pickaxes, laying on the cold stone ground. I put a hand on Kate¡¯s shoulder from behind her, as a sort of encouraging gesture. She, however, just stands there, motionless, only semblance of reaction being a small flinch when my fingers make contact with the fabric of her dress.

    ¡°Ansel.¡± She says, firmly, but also questioningly, as though she¡¯s looking for my attention, or waiting for a reply.

    ¡°Y-Yes?¡± I ask, unnerved at her behavior.

    She takes a few more seconds to look at the seemingly mundane tool, only making the suspense and my already immense wariness grow with each passing moment.

    Her head ever so slightly turns to its left, not to look me in the eyes, as she¡¯s clearly still concentrated on whatever it is that¡¯s puzzling her; it¡¯s just a simple signal for me to acknowledge she¡¯s actually speaking to me.

    ¡°I might be going mad. But.¡± She abruptly interrupts the silence. ¡°Haven¡¯t we been here before?¡±

    Just like that, she shatters the last bit of composure I have left. Hers might be a simple mistake, but the guttural feeling that had been creeping up inside of me until this point had already warned me of something unnatural.

    My mind goes wild, like a forest being engulfed with the wildfire of possible meanings behind her question.

    At this point, my eyes are locked to Kaytlinn.

    I fear even just looking around at my surroundings, as if trying to protect myself from the truth of the matter.

    My eyelids flutter. My head twitches. Likely mechanisms of my brain preparing itself to process whatever answer would come out of her mouth next.

    ¡°...Why do you say that?¡±

    Yet, as the words I had exhausted so much of my courage just to utter echo throughout the tunnel, repeating back, drilling themselves into my mind, increasing the overwhelmingly stressful expectations, she doesn¡¯t answer.

    All that talk about being mysterious, now she gives me this shite?

    ¡°Kate.¡± I say rigidly, trying to draw a reply out of her, angered by the lack of one.

    She slowly raises her arm in front of her, causing the clicking of old metal parts in the lamp. Then, she wobbles to the side, allowing me a view of what had been bothering her this entire time.

    My heart stops. My lungs cease to function. My vision goes blurry once more.

    It¡¯s not another corpse. Not another person who¡¯s life had been taken in these mines, but something with far worse implications: the same body we saw before. Markus¡¯ body. His pale, contorted face, with the same river of dried, sticky blood flowing from his neck wound.

    ¡°But how is¡ª¡±

    My voice manages to produce. The groan of a man trying to explain the unexplainable.

    ¡°It¡¯s not. It can¡¯t be, therefore it¡¯s not.¡± She interjects, full of confidence.

    ¡°We¡¯re both tired. I¡­ I think we should rest for today. Maybe continue later, or tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡± I reply, devoid of conviction, a chill running down my spine. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right. We should go back, find a spot behind that¡ª¡± I say, as I turn around. But the end of that sentence doesn¡¯t manage to escape me.

    Behind us is an impossibility becoming reality. The entrance to the tunnels, just a few steps away. We had walked for hours, and yet here it was, just a few seconds away from me.

    As if this wasn¡¯t enough, night had already set outside.

    We entered the mines when it was still morning daylight, perhaps barely noon if you wanted to stretch it, and yet the moon and stars were creeping up on the horizon, almost mockingly, at my lack of understanding.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Not a single noise or soul inhabits the outpost.

    Panic completely sets in, digging its claws into my very flesh, goosebumps hitting me in waves and stiffening my limbs.

    I turn back around, ready to scream for Kaytlinn, but she¡¯s no longer there. In fact, there¡¯s nothing in front of me anymore; the lack of simple light had made the corridors engulfed in eerie, imposing darkness.

    I quickly turn again, but even the entrance has now disappeared. I¡¯m in the middle of the mines once more.

    My head spins. The thoughts grow louder. The silence becomes deafening.

    Is this a nightmare? Of course, it has to be. I pray it is, for the alternative would be far, far worse.

    I clutch my hanging head, the unwashed hair dropping down like a weeping willow betwixt my fingers as I close my eyes.

    The world around me whirls in blood-curling confusion as my brain fails to understand the horrifying notion that the laws of everything I knew and understood were beginning to fall apart.

    I feel petrified. Alone.

    Tears begin to form at the corners of my eye, collecting into bunches before their weight breaks the tension, as they begin to flow down my face unrestricted.

    I scream.

    I scream as loud as humanly possible.

    When I¡¯m out of breath, my lungs unlock, letting me inhale in bursts, the oxygen flowing into my chest feeling like unchewed food, a large knot trying to forcefully make its way down.

    I scream again, but the urge to sob interrupts me.

    After a short pause, I scream again.

    I scream, I wail and I groan.

    As I shake my skull around, my body instinctively tries to balance me by moving my foot behind, but I accidentally step onto my wounded leg, which sends an unexpected shockwave of pain, making me stagger and ultimately fall backwards.

    Something, however, catches my fall.

    My eyes jolt back open, and I jump sideways.

    ¡°Ans!¡± I hear yelling. It¡¯s Kaytlinn.

    ¡°Ans¨C what the hell is going on?¡±

    I look at her, eyes red from crying. The small relief of no longer being alone rushes through me.

    ¡°Ans, snap out of it. We need to move.¡±

    She looks down, grabs my hand, and yanks it towards her like an impatient mother with her kid, as she starts sprinting through the tunnel, ignoring the pain of her ankle. Surprised at the sudden pull, I start skipping, trying to put pressure on my healthy leg as much as physically possible. The light of the lantern illuminates the path ahead, if only barely. It¡¯s just dirt, sand and rocks.

    ¡°W-Where are we going?¡± I manage to ask, the soreness of my throat vibrating with each word from the stress it had endured earlier.

    ¡°I don¡¯t bloody know! Away from this place. Anywhere that isn¡¯t here.¡± She proclaims between breaths while running.

    ¡°Kate, stop!¡±

    ¡°Are you out of your mind?! We need to get out of here!¡±

    ¡°But you don¡¯t even know where you¡¯re¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care!¡± She interrupts me. ¡°We¡¯ll have to get out of here eventually! We¡¯ll have to. We¡¯ll have to.¡±

    ¡°Kate for Christ¡¯s sake, stop¡ª¡±

    But before I can finish, she trips, falling to the ground, bringing me down with her.

    ¡°¡ªAhk!¡± I whimper, my knee hitting one of the rocks on the floor dead centre.

    The lantern smashes against the stone pavement. Luckily, it doesn¡¯t break.

    Kaytlinn looks down, defeated.

    A few seconds of quiet nothingness go by, the only sound being the shuffling of our clothes, as we shift around and sit to recover our stamina.

    The silence is broken by the sound of Kaytlinn¡¯s fists hitting the ground in frustration. After a short while, she hits it again. Soon enough, she starts punching it repeatedly, making her knuckles bleed as they get scratched and bruised.

    I crawl on my hands and knees to try and stop her, reaching towards her, but she slaps my arm off.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking touch me!¡± She yells.

    Her voice squeals loudly, echoing all around us, as she looks at me with an expression full of hate and fear.

    I quickly back away, shocked. Her brows shift upwards, from a frown to deeply apologetic. She opens her mouth, but it takes her a few moments before she can speak.

    ¡°I¨C I¡¯m sorry. Don¡¯t touch me.¡± She continues, her words being softer, but still demanding in tone.

    ¡°I, uh, didn¡¯t mean to.¡± I apologize, unsure of what I had done wrong.

    She looks away and crosses her arms, closing herself in as tight a space as she can, as if cold, or protecting herself from something. I want to talk to her, say something else, but before I manage to, we hear something in the distance, sounding like the moan of a weak, wounded man.

    Our heads turn towards the sound, almost in unison. However, it¡¯s dark, and we¡¯re unable to see where it originates from.

    Kaytlinn grabs the lantern off the ground and jumps back up. I follow her lead.

    The light reveals his figure: that of a skinny, bearded miner, covered in dirt and soot, sitting next to the wall with a hand on his stomach. His face, although cleaner than the rest of him, is of a strange, almost brownish color. It¡¯s not grime¡ªit looks as if the very color of his skin is darker than ours. His clothes are dirty, with strange colors and patterns woven into them.

    We hobble closer, hearing his voice. He rambles incoherently in a foreign language.

    ¡°Min¨C Min ''anta? Kayf wasalat ''iilaa huna?¡±

    Me and Kaytlinn look at each other.

    ¡°Do you know what he¡¯s saying?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No.¡± She replies, looking back at him, kneeling to his level.

    The man wobbles his head around, swallowing. I then notice how dry his lips are. How long has he been here?

    ¡°Ma¡¯. Ma¡¯? Water?¡±

    He has a weird accent, one that is definitely unfamiliar to me, as listening to it does not remind me of anything or anyone.

    ¡°Sorry, no, we don¡¯t have any water with us.¡± Kaytlinn replies.

    ¡°Bialtabe lays ladayk ''aaay. What do here? How get here? You Raspelian?¡± The man angrily questions us.

    ¡°W-We are from Andonia.¡± Kate tries to answer him, having some difficulty understanding what he¡¯s actually saying.

    ¡°Are you¡­ from Al¡¯Saava by any chance? Were you a Koshak miner?¡±

    ¡°Eh.¡± The man exclaims in what I can only describe as an affirmative tone of voice.

    ¡°I miner of village. Raspelian come, kill all. I hide in mine. Mine dark, can hide in mine, nobody come.¡±

    He points with his shaky hand at the lantern, then drops his arm back down.

    ¡°Light. Light mine.¡±

    Kaytlinn takes a quick glance at me for reassurance, before continuing.

    ¡°We found this lamp at the entrance, near a body. Were you the one to kill him?¡±

    The man hangs his head down, whispering some things to himself.

    ¡°Markus. Markus good man. Markus feed me food. He find me and come with food often.¡± He then says out loud.

    Kaytlinn grips the lantern tighter.

    ¡°You knew Markus? Was he the one to bring you bread? So you lived here all this time?¡± She asked, forgetting her own previous question.

    ¡°Eh. I do. He feed me, bring me water, bread.¡±

    ¡°Why did you never try to escape?¡± Kate continued.

    ¡°Escape where? Raspelian village? Raspelian kill me! Like Raspelian kill Rabbia, Uzza, everyone.¡± He says, visibly agitated.

    ¡°Escape from the other side of the tunnel outside the camp.¡±

    ¡°Other side? No, only one side. Cave outside young, very short. Tunnel outside no bring here.¡±

    Me and Kaytlinn froze in place. The mutual understanding of what those words meant for us, the implications of what we¡¯d have to do next, it honestly scared me. The unnatural silence of the tunnels crept its way back between the three of us.

    ¡°What are these mines?¡± Kate continued, partly to distract herself from having to think about the situation we were currently in.

    ¡°What is going on down here? Why is everything¡­ weird?¡±

    ¡°Mine. Mine is cursed.¡± The miner said, matter-of-factly.

    ¡°T¡¯Salla curse me. T¡¯Salla curse mine. T¡¯Salla saw me coward, punish me for hiding.¡±

    ¡°Cursed the tunnels? Who¡¯s T¡¯Salla?¡± She asked, concerned.

    ¡°T¡¯Salla is T¡¯Salla. He is not man, not woman. I angered T¡¯Salla. This is my punishment.¡±

 Chapter 9: Superstitions

    Kaytlinn might have been a troubled individual, an emotionally unstable person, ever since I¡¯ve known her. She always avoided conflict whenever possible, preferring instead to try and damage control the situation only after the danger was already gone. I¡¯ve known this about her ever since we first met, even when I was too young to know better. It was plainly obvious to see for anyone. However, there is a ¡®but¡¯.

    As much as she hated fighting, as much as she had always tried to protect herself from harm¡¯s way, she still put the needs of other people above herself.

    Clumsy as she is, my memories of her never portray Kate as someone who would sacrifice someone else, be it a friend, lover or a complete stranger.

    Though despite this, despite everything I¡¯ve said, there should be one thing to consider: people change.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear about your customs, myths or legends, Koshak.¡± Kaytlinn said, getting her face closer to the miner.

    ¡°What is happening to these tunnels, and how do we get out of here?¡±

    With my feet planted firmly to the ground, I watched as she interrogated the weak, dying man. He looked at her with his peripherals, his chest rhythmically raising and falling with each ragged breath he took, unable to even keep his eyes open for long periods at a time.

    I had never seen her this hostile towards anyone. Usually, I would¡¯ve blamed this on the bizarre occurrences, on the gravity of the situation, but that wasn¡¯t it.

    The miner laughed.

    ¡°You.¡± He said, then paused, swallowing hard, before continuing. ¡°You north man all the same. Raspelia, Andonia. You not respect the sacred, not fear God.¡±

    His head turned away, looking towards the pitch blackness ahead of us.

    ¡°But he come for you, he always does. He always see where you are. He always find you.¡±

    Slowly, he turned to look at us again.

    ¡°Markus feed me, but Markus Raspelian, and Raspelian kill us. Markus good man, but I a coward. I betray first before betray me.¡± He explained. Kaytlinn''s head twitched slightly at his confession.

    ¡°T¡¯Salla.¡± He sighs. ¡°T¡¯Salla knows, T¡¯Salla cry for Markus, T¡¯Salla trap me in tunnel. To escape tunnel, punishment need end first.¡±

    Kaytlinn reaches towards one of her sleeves. ¡°...Let¡¯s end it, then.¡± She murmurs, as she takes something out from it.

    Upon saying those words, within a fraction of a second, she throws her arm towards the miner¡¯s neck, sticking something into it.

    I take a step back, my body clenching and stiffening at the sudden motion, before hearing the gurgling sounds of the man, trying to lethargically reach his hand towards his throat. Yet, he¡¯s unable to.

    Kaytlinn stands back up, watching him intently as he falls over, hitting his head against the rocks. Red trickles from his wound, and soon enough, he stops moving entirely, as the sound of him drowning in his own blood finally ends with a couple of small coughs.

    ¡°Kaytlinn?¡± I ask, audibly fearful of what I had just witnessed.

    ¡°Don¡¯t. I did him a favor.¡± She explains, convinced. ¡°He would¡¯ve not recovered in his state.¡±

    ¡°Is that really what this was about? Mercy?¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°I said I did him a favor.¡± She replies firmly, adjusting her sleeve and turning towards me. ¡°This was about Markus.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡± I say, fear being replaced with frustration. ¡°We could¡¯ve asked him where he took his armor, his weapon, since clearly neither Markus or our new friend here were wearing them.¡±

    ¡°Is that your concern? You think a layer of steel would¡¯ve helped protect from whatever could be haunting this God-forsaken hole?¡±

    ¡°What I think¡ª¡± My voice grows louder, raising my fists up to my ears in frustration, before letting them down again.

    ¡°I think that being armed with a sword is better than facing a ploughin¡¯ boogey-man butt-fucking naked.¡±

    She scoffs, annoyed. ¡°You do not seriously believe his story do you?¡±

    ¡°Well, clearly there¡¯s something to believe here, Kaytlinn!¡± I start yelling.

    ¡°You saw what happened, can you explain it? Don¡¯t fuckin¡¯ think so.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s an explanation to everything. This is not about you, Ans, what you saw back on the battlefield was a hallucination.¡±

    My eyes widen. It feels as if a string that had been tense up until this point, stretched to its absolute limits, has finally snapped.

    ¡°Don¡¯t start giving me your bullshit, woman! I know what I bloody saw!¡± I angrily scream, slapping the air with the back of my hand.

    ¡°We¡¯re living it. Open your ploughin¡¯ eyes, there¡¯s nothing about this that can be rationalized!¡±

    ¡°No, fuck off.¡± She replies, emphasizing her words. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna hear it from a fanatic of the church¡ªI¡¯m not going to drop to my knees and start praying it away, we need to¡ª¡±

    ¡°This is not a theology debate! I¡¯m not trying to convert you or whatever other shite you think this is. What I saw back there could have something to do with whatever this ¡®Zala¡¯ is; this man clearly knew more about what was happening here than us, and you went up and killed him! What if we can¡¯t get out of here now?! It would be all your God damn fault!¡±

    ¡°Ans, listen to yourself.¡± She annoyingly tells me, as if me being wrong was already a given in her head.

    ¡°Even if his words ring true, the curse¡ªthe ¡®punishment¡¯ will be lifted after his death. There¡¯s nothing left to punish.¡±

    I step closer to Kaytlinn, closing the distance between us.

    ¡°And what if we get punished for murdering him?! Whatever is out there could do the same to us, and we¡¯d be back to the very beginning!¡±

    ¡°You would¡¯ve rather let him¡ª¡± She interrupts herself, shaking her head. ¡°Watch him die his slow, painful death?¡±

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t talk to me like you cared about him all a¡¯ sudden!¡± I yell even louder, getting closer to Kaytlinn. She instinctively starts backing away.

    ¡°If it got us the hell out of here, I would¡¯ve tortured him with my own two bloody hands! I¡¯m not going to die here, not like him, there¡¯s simply too much I need to find out before my time comes.¡±

    ¡°Like¡ªI¡ªwant to die here?!¡± She fights back, her voice suddenly becoming as loud as mine. She steps closer to me, putting her face mere inches away from mine, to the point I can feel her hot breath on my skin.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what the hell is going on, okay?! I don¡¯t know why things suddenly stopped making sense. I don¡¯t know if what he said was true. I don¡¯t even know whether to believe you or not, if what you said was also true, if you¡¯re even real. If I shouldn¡¯t have avenged Markus. I don¡¯t know anything anymore! Maybe I¡¯m crazy, maybe I¡¯m hallucinating too. Maybe I died hit by one of those fucking arrows back there, and this is my brain trying to cope with that in my last dying moments. I don¡¯t know!¡± She starts sobbing uncontrollably, her expression gradually shifting to one of despair. ¡°I don¡¯t know! I don¡¯t know what I should do, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening, I don¡¯t know!¡± Her fist bumps against my chest. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She now repeats, over and over again, as she starts hitting me in desperation. They¡¯re not hard hits, she¡¯s not trying to actually hurt me, likely just letting out her anger at something.

    My fury subsides, turning into uncertainty, as I just stand there, unable to think of what to say next or how to deal with the situation.

    Hesitantly, I wrap my arms around her. She flinches, but doesn¡¯t slap my arms off again. I let her get comfortable enough to the sensation, then gently pull her closer to me, her face buried in my embrace, her tears staining my already dirty gambeson. Her whimpers grow louder, but I let her cry.

    We sit in silence for a while.

    Kaytlinn might be a troubled individual, an emotionally unstable person, but there¡¯s something that I hadn¡¯t fully thought of up until this point: she¡¯s human.

    Something is clawing at her, it had been long before we stepped foot in here, but I was too self-centered to give it more of a thought besides just thinking she¡¯s scared, perhaps even a little childish for her age. No, she¡¯s more than that. In certain aspects, she is much braver than me.

 Chapter 10: Flickering

    I hear a faint voice coming from the corners of my mind. At first, it feels like the scream of someone I once knew, trying to grab my attention, calling my name amidst a crowd of hundreds of other silent sounds. Or is it my name? I can¡¯t really tell. It feels like it should be¡ªI recall hearing it before, but at the same time¡­ I don¡¯t recognize it as my own.

    My eyes open, yet darkness lingers. I can¡¯t tell whether they somehow are still shut, if I¡¯m actually seeing what¡¯s in front of me, or if I¡¯m even opening them at all. It¡¯s disorienting.

    The voice grows louder and more desperate, while still maintaining a sense of dignity. It¡¯s getting closer to me, but I cannot move; I cannot turn to answer their call.

    My thoughts are hazy, my memories absent. It¡¯s dark, freezing cold, and even though I feel myself trembling, I can¡¯t move voluntarily. Where am I?

    A familiar taste creeps its way into my mouth. Every inch of my tongue seems to be activated and fired up at its intensity.

    My body is repulsed by it, like it¡¯s recognizing it to be something that does not belong, yet it¡¯s incapable to eject it out of me.

    ¡°You are not Kenzie.¡±

    Whoever was shouting had finally reached me.

    Their words felt so gentle, yet so close to me that they vibrated through the insides of my cranium, moving around erratically, seemingly unable to fit themselves anywhere.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here. What have you done to Kenzie?¡±

    Again, their words shoot their way inside my head, as if they were trying to directly imprint their meaning into my consciousness. So grand, so stern, I couldn¡¯t possibly do anything but give them my full concentration.

    I try to reply, but just like earlier, I simply can¡¯t. The sound gets stuck in my windpipe, trying to push out of an opening that has been closed, failing to escape.

    ¡°You will be given one chance.¡±

    The creature behind me says, his voice even more imposing than before, as it echoes in the deepest, most unknown chambers inside my mind.

    I feel a burning sensation from where my throat is¡ªno, was supposed to be. The muscles and ligaments of my neck sear with an indescribable pain, I feel them moving together, writhing and wriggling their way around where they once belonged, until they¡¯re finally locked in place, and the sensations disappear just as hastily as they came.

    ¡°Speak.¡± I¡¯m commanded.

    ¡°W-Who is Kenzie?¡± My voice shakes, any one letter quivering and hurting, like I¡¯m swallowing dozens of broken glass shards with each word.

    ¡°Don¡¯t dare think you can be so insolent as to feign ignorance, son of Arthur.¡±

    Yet again, the words deposit themselves straight into my brain. Even without the eyes to see or the ears to hear, I know exactly what the person is saying and where it¡¯s coming from. Who are they? How do they even know? Though I ask myself, something tells me that I already know the answer.

    ¡°Do not test my patience. I will ask one more time, and this time you¡ªwill¡ªanswer.¡± The voice spoke once more, with even more fervent irritation at my supposed lack of cooperation.

    ¡°Where is Kenzie?¡±

    ¡°S-S-She¡¯s dead. I-I have¡ª¡± I gasp for air like a fish out of water, but the oxygen just goes straight through me. The familiarity of that name finally dawns on me; he¡¯s referring to that woman, the angel I had killed in that forest.

    Even though one could come to that conclusion given the circumstances, a lingering feeling told me I actually knew who this ¡®Kenzie¡¯ was. It wasn¡¯t a mere lucky guess, I somehow remembered.

    ¡°I have taken her life.¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    The utter silence of wherever I am makes itself known anew, giving me a moment of respite, before the creature replies.

    ¡°...Amusing.¡±

    My throat closes with a raucous crush. A sudden loud noise, one that surprises me enough to delay the shocking agony that follows shortly after.

    I try in vain to breathe, but of course, it doesn¡¯t work. I instead feel myself suffocating under the great pressure of an abnormal, instantaneous force closing my trachea from the inside.

    Panic settles in.

    Fight or flight floods my brain with ever-growing thoughts of survival, of the need of trying to open up my throat. The overdose of distressing primal instincts shouting at me to do something is downright maddening. It feels as though I¡¯m living a night terror impossible to wake up from.

    I try to cough, to move my head up¡ªany direction possible, even ripping my own neck apart would be an option at this point, but alas, I stand motionless, unable to do anything but stare into nothingness, not feeling any less conscious than I did before.

    ¡°What is this?¡± The voice of the creature intrudes upon my thoughts, somehow still being the focus of my attention despite the torture I¡¯m enduring.

    ¡°You should have ceased breathing. How come you still live?¡± It continues, confusion starting to seep through the facade of perfection it had instilled until now.

    ¡°This is¡­ an impossibility.¡±

    The pressure that had been sealing shut my windpipe finally releases, allowing me to breathe like I¡¯d never done before. I gasp, I pant and I wheeze, then I cough, and then the overwhelming urge to vomit overtakes me, yet nothing comes out.

    Shortly after, I feel wet round objects slowly making their way towards me, inlaying themselves into my sockets, making me realize the cold air that had been blowing into their empty spaces.

    They move and jitter uncontrollably, searching for the precise place where they¡¯re meant to fit inside of, until they finally find it.

    My vision recovers bit by bit, focusing the cloud of now blinding colors back into recognizable shapes and silhouettes.

    I see Kaytlinn, a few steps in front of me, unmoving, her body frozen, almost looking like it¡¯s locked in time, along with the grains of dust suspended mid-air.

    Her hands are positioned in front of her, to be embracing something, or someone, her dim lantern still softly illuminating our surroundings.

    Behind her, the only thing visibly moving, just barely covered in the darkness beyond the lamp¡¯s reach, are the terrifying, but still mesmerizing eyes of the creature that had been communicating with me until now, staring at me, judging, its head tilted almost entirely to the side. They have no color, yet they¡¯re not absent of it, it¡¯s just a dark so pure and vibrant that I had failed to ever witness before, darker even than the shadows that hide his figure.

    ¡°Adria.¡± He speaks with no sound, yet I¡¯m still able to understand his words clear as they can be. ¡°That is your name, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    His head shifts and twitches, like a curious dog trying to analyze whatever strange new thing they¡¯ve just discovered, although with unnatural, mechanical movements.

    ¡°I-I-It.¡± I deeply inhale, already out of breath. ¡°It is not.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, how curious. You choose to relinquish it?¡± His head straightens up, and gets ever-so-slightly closer, the burning oil of the lantern revealing what appears to be a mask made out of thousands of unsaturated, gray chips of wood, intertwined against one another with surgical precision, each individual one helping the whole delicate structure hold itself together.

    ¡°Oh, but of course. Of course you would, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± He says, a few puffs of breath audibly hitting against the solid surface of the mask, sounding almost like the laughter of someone who¡¯s trying to stay quiet.

    ¡°The anguish you felt towards your father wouldn¡¯t have it otherwise. Ah, but you wouldn¡¯t stop at just your name, no, all ties had to be severed, didn¡¯t they? All or nothing, as they say. Needed a ¡®clean slate¡¯, as they say, didn¡¯t you? Yes. Yes. Simply riveting.¡±

    The creature¡¯s head retreats back into the darkness, hiding his appearance once more, shaking side to side like a bouncing spring, before abruptly stopping, tilted to its left.

    ¡°Hmm, how intriguing. You seem to not recognize me. Interesting. You don¡¯t recognize me, do you?¡± He asks, straightening his head once again, but he cuts himself off before I can reply. ¡°Oh, apologies, I¡¯ve gotten a bit carried away. I¡¯ve gotten a bit too excited, you see. Yes. I should introduce myself, or else this wouldn¡¯t be much fair, would it?¡±

    The creature¡¯s head lowers down. From the shadows, an open hand emerges, slowly reaching its way forward, in an almost flawlessly straight motion. Its fingers are slender and without nails, but the joints lack the semblance of any bone structure. The appendages just¡­ are. Its skin eerily smooth, devoid of any protrusions, of the same unsaturated dark gray as its mask.

    Its arm stops just underneath my gaze, right next to me.

    ¡°Ah, apologies. A thousand apologies. One moment.¡±

    Searing pain suddenly emerges on my side. I see levitating objects just outside my field of vision start to appear and accelerate into contours of bones, muscles and veins, wrapping and weaving immaculately into place to form my right arm.

    As the pain starts to fade, I feel the creature grabbing my hand, squeezing gently.

    ¡°I¡¯m T¡¯Salla, but humanity has given me oh so many names. Yes. It¡¯s a great pleasure to meet again.¡±