He started his new life half-buried in sand, his legs drenched in icy water as a cold breeze brushed against his skin.
The waves of an ocean he couldn't see pulled at his legs, leaving traces of seafoam that hissed and dissipated in seconds. He felt the heat of the sun on his face, goosebumps beginning to rise on his arms, partially derived from the crisp feeling in the air, but mostly because of the fact that his clothes were absolutely soaked.
He heard the cry of a seabird, croaking into the quiet of the ocean shore as the water continued to lap at his shoes. He felt like he was in a trance, a little bubble, separated from the outside world and wrapped up in a comfortable blanket, thoughts muted, muffled behind the thick cotton weaving. The bird cawed again, but he was still stuck in a half-awake state, drowsy, barely able to register the cool water flowing over his pants, sticking to his skin. For a moment, he imagined just staying here forever, becoming one with the ground and the water. It would certainly be more comfortable than getting up, he felt. No, no, he felt perfectly okay right here.
The bird squawked. It cut through the haze, and he flinched, the sticky tendrils of sleep still clinging to his entire body, weighing him down. Did he have to wake up?
The bird made a sound like that of a strangled cat.
Yeah, maybe he should.
He felt like he should, anyway. Like something inside of him was trying to knock on the walls of his skull to elicit some sort of response.
His mind was slow to start actually cooperating with his desire to not sit there like some poor imitation of a boulder, though. It's first decree, when it finally climbed out of the pit it had buried itself in, like some hibernating bear that had been asleep for far past winter, past the next spring, even, was to do something. That something was unfortunately unclear, so he began to gather the scattered pieces of his thoughts, trying to create some sort of inclination of what it might be.
Maybe he should open his eyes. That was probably a pretty safe bet. Nothing potentially fatal could happen by taking a peek at what was around him, right?
He managed to peel his crusted eyelids open, blinking twice to adjust to the brilliant light overhead. Then, several things occurred at once, and not all of them were good.
He was walloped with a sick feeling in his gut, like his stomach was trying to break out of his chest and was currently wrestling the rest of his organs. His mouth was as dry as a desert. His entire body felt like it had been crushed beneath a mountain, tossed about, dragged through a hurricane and thrown back underneath the same mountain for good measure, and that was excluding the fact that his eyes felt like tiny little fireballs in their sockets. In short: he felt miserable.
Then, he was hit by the appearance of the sky above him.
Now, he wasn't one to take pretty things for granted, he knew that much. Pretty people, pretty places, pretty conversations that left a sweet taste in his mouth. This, though- the smear of lilac and lavender, muted tones of pink and golden streaks hidden in the sweathes of clouds high, high above his head, with a deep haze of navy haphazardly scattered about on its edges easily took the cake as one of the prettiest things he'd seen in his entire life. Even prettier than..
He felt his nose wrinkle. A thought had been there, a memory, but it had slipped out of his grasp like flowing water. All he had left was the knowledge that it had existed, even for a fragment of a second, but whatever it might've been, he couldn't remember.
That was when it hit him, and even his stomach stopped fistfighting his chest as the realization came to light inside of his head. Cogs turned, and he paled, the feeling of frigid water still flowing rhythmically over his lower half seeming to fade into oblivion.
He couldn't remember anything.
Well, anything was an exaggeration. His mind recollected pictures of places he couldn't bring names to: thick, rainy forests and snowy tundras, wide barren deserts with cliffs jutting out from the depths of the earth. He could picture songbirds perched in branches, and fish that swam calmly in ponds, without a care in the world. He could easily recall how to talk, what to do when having dinner over at a friend's house, and how to read. He remembered the sun. He remembered the moon, and the stars, but he remembered absolutely nothing about who he might've been. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. It was as if there was an enormous wall encircling the miniscule part of his mind he actually could access, and the rest, his memories, who he used to be, was beyond that wall. Tauntingly close, but achingly far away at the same time. It almost hurt, this foreign emptiness.
Deciding that he was done with moping in the sand like a depressed crab, he pushed himself up, noting the shakiness and weakness in both of his arms. He couldn't remember lifting anything heavy, so he chalked it up to being asleep for... how long had he been asleep on the shore? He was once again faced with the frustration of being unable to recall anything beyond two minutes ago, and had to take a second to diffuse it. It wouldn't do him any good to get annoyed now, not while he was stranded out in the middle of nowhere with a spontaneous case of amnesia.
Where even was he?
He took a moment to glance around his surroundings, finally able to get a look at the ground instead of the sky. As beautiful as it was, he felt he needed to gain his bearings before he went sightseeing. Maybe the gull that had called to him overhead was man-eating. You could never be too careful, and he could already tell that he was anything but reckless. At least, he hoped so.
He started to make a mental list of what he remembered so far about himself. He jotted down the word 'careful,' right next to the word for 'amnesiac.'
He took a careful glance the area around him. The sand had a lavender hue, glittering stones littered about in a sparkling night's sky array. Locks of thick seagrass poked up in between stones, dark green, as teal foam trailed and bubbled over the rocks around him. A distance away, forcefully shoved up against the shore with wet, disturbed sand surrounding it, was a boat. It looked a little unfortunate, as if it had been tossed about in a storm and all but thrown against the sand after experiencing harassment, possibly from slamming into boulders it had encountered on its way here. It was painted, though the paint was wearing off, decorated in upside down faded blue triangles and various other curvy and rather ancient looking symbols. Two oars he spotted nearby, one snapped clean in half and the other speared upright in the sand. How ominous. He wondered where it had come from, or who might've ridden in it. He supposed that question would never be answered, with how old it looked.
There were a few shells, a light pink on their interior and russet shades of brown on the outside, and he reached over to pick one up out of pure curiosity, before starting at the appearance of his hand.
He didn't even know what he looked like yet, did he?
Well, he was sure he was a bit of a looker, he had to be. Nobody just went through whatever he had gone through to wind up stranded on a foreign shore, sopping wet and an amnesiac, asleep for who knows how long, and didn't look at the very least decent.
He scooted over toward the edge of the ocean, leaving behind a track of darkened and disturbed grit as he forced himself onto his knees. He doubted he could stand, since his legs felt like rickety twigs that would snap under too much pressure. He was cautious as he pressed both of his hands into the grit to bend over the waves, trying his best to get a vague image of himself through the ripples. It was an unconventional mirror, but it was all he had.
A startled face stared back at him, hair tousled and stuck up in all sorts of places with clumps of sand smeared throughout. It was short, and the brightest shade of white he'd ever seen, almost reflective as it stuck to his forehead from the seawater. There was a pure white flower nestled carefully behind his right ear, and he trailed a finger over one of its petals for a moment, noting how soft it felt and allowing his mind to wander as to where it might've come from. A long lost lover, perhaps? A friend who promised to see him again, but fears his tragic demise?
Yeah, probably not.
His skin was a rich shade of brown, freckles spotting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and his eyes were the oddest tint of blue. He discovered why when he leaned down a bit, noticing the little glimmer of gold in the corner, like a piece of the sun had been emblazoned into his iris. It sparkled, and for a second he could've sworn he had seen it glow, but that thought faded as soon as the waves ruined his image again, chopping it up and making it look as if he was made of putty. So much for that.
He let out an irate puff of air, deciding to get a look at what he was wearing. He pulled at his shirt, the pale, sky blue fabric soft and loose. It felt thick, like it was meant for much colder temperatures than the humid, sticky air that lingered on his skin and in his hair, collecting moisture.
He was wearing a thick pair of indigo boots, fluffy on the inside from what he could feel, with a cuff of fur at the top. His pants were baggy and full, a dark grey, leading up to a navy blue belt with a golden triangular latch. His shirt sleeves went down to his elbows, free flowing, and he had a turtleneck-sort of collar that was fitted to his shoulders. A small, glittering golden necklace in the shape of a snowflake was carefully laced around his neck. The most peculiar thing, though, was a glowing circular bump in the middle of his chest.
He picked up his hand, prodding at it, and yelping when his finger slipped into it. He yanked his hand away, startled both by the sound of his voice and the warm feeling that lingered in his hand. He sounded...
He sounded like someone had run a cheese grater down his throat after filling it with sand. Eugh.
Well, there wasn't much time to mope around about the less than desirable voice he was gifted with. He tentatively reached for the vaguely oval shaped thing in his chest again, placing his fingers onto it with a flinch, but he felt nothing- just a gentle, tingling warmth.
Abruptly, he felt a hard object inside of it, near the surface. His mind had been dragged into a constant stream of questions, but after a moment of pondering and a curious grasp on whatever this mysterious object might've been, he revealed a ruby red candle.
It was slightly melted, globs of red wax dripping down its sides, a flame flickering and twinkling on the knob of black twine in its center. The little fire twirled, and he was momentarily hypnotized by its dance, watching it glitter on the end of the candle, to think much about the fact that he had pulled it out of a weird, glowing bump on his chest. Or the fact that the bump had disappeared.
He glanced back and forth from the candle to the vacant place on his shirt. Should he put it back? Should he not? Would it kill him if he did? Would it kill him if he kept it out for too long? He pressed the flat part of his palm onto where it had been, but felt nothing besides his own chest, and his heart pounding inside of it.
If this killed him or something, he was going to crawl his way out of here and find whoever put him in this situation and knee them where the sun didn't shine. The thought that he wouldn't be able to do much kneeing if he was dead didn't occur to him.
Abruptly, he shoved the candle back into the front of his shirt. When nothing happened for a few seconds, he worried he had messed something up- until the glowing orb resurfaced seemingly through his clothing.
Well. Another mystery to add to the solving list then, he supposed, as he pressed the side of his hand into his cheek, wiping off bits of sand stuck to his skin.
Dimly, he lifted his head again to survey the ground instead of the sky this time. While mostly unimpressive, the rich, lavender color of the sand was pretty. It glimmered faintly in the light of the sun, which he could see beaming over a towering hill, a dark cave yawning open with a stone path leading up to it. The steps looked worn. Little flowers sprouted up here and there in-between barely perceptible cracks, a similar pearly white to the one behind his ear. The closest things to him, though, were two spires of stone about twice what he assumed his height to be, featureless besides ridges carved into the stone from someone long ago. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something white poking up out of the sand a few feet away to his left, and he wouldn't have noticed it if not for the sun bouncing rays into his eyes. He reached over with effort, his arms were as weak as his legs, and pulled it out of the ground.
It was an ivory colored mask that vaguely resembled a bird, golden trim reaching down to its beak as two little glowing eyes peered up at him. It had two points sticking out on its cheeks and two from the sides of its forehead. It felt familiar. Something inside of his head was murmuring to him, and the strangest thing occurred.
He wanted to put it on.
Trying to follow this strange instinct, he slowly pressed the mask onto his face like he'd done it thousands of times before, and it molded perfectly to his brow, the cool texture a relief considering the heat that had been on his cheeks prior. Strangely enough, he could see perfectly fine out of it, blinking twice, making sure that his vision was still as normal as it had been before he'd put it on. To his astonishment, it was.
Of course, this only brought up another wave of questions that he doubted he could answer, considering his brain was vacant, with little cobwebs in the corner and dust piled up on the metaphorical floor. He was frustrated. He didn't know anything, he didn't know where he even was, and now he was faced with a mysterious ancient pathway into the yawning maw of a deep, dark cave and some see-through mask he'd pulled out of the dirt.
Absolutely wonderful.
He dug his knee into the sand, trying to force himself upward shakily, his palms slick with what might have either been sweat or water. They didn't help, considering they were caked like most of his clothing at this point from all of his crawling about. Finally, he managed to get into a crouch, from which he slowly began to rise, trying his hardest to balance ever so precariously on his unsteady legs.
He failed the first few times. Between tumbling down onto his face, and simply leaning too far back and ending up sputtering out seawater, it took a bit of practice before he could get himself solidly upright. When he finally did, he took several slow breaths, focused. He supposed the only way he could go was forward, into the unknown, where he'd hope and pray nothing too dangerous would scuttle out of the rocks and driftwood.
He frowned down at the ground, then up at the uneven and old steps. He had no interest in plummeting again, so he decided to start slow, one foot after the other.
As if caused by his first footstep pressing into the sand, a voice rang out into the quiet, cutting through the fog like a knife and bringing him all the way back down to earth with a yank, and he realized he was stupid to think he wouldn't be alone. Of course he wouldn't be, but the thought that there might've been more people anywhere nearby, heck, even in existence at the time he'd woken up hadn't occurred to him whatsoever.
"What in Eden's name are you doing out here?"
The bubble popped.
Oh, no.
The voice was sharp and curt, followed by the sound of scuffling and a clang of metal hitting stone. It took several seconds for him to locate the source of the noise without falling backwards onto his rear end, but when he finally managed to spot the cause, he blanched and silently wished he could go stuff himself back under the sand, where hopefully the ocean waves would wash him all the way back out to sea again.
This guy looked like he meant business.
Dressed in a rich blue cloak that flowed down his back, the ends cut in the shape of flower petals with a pale sky-blue cuff around his neck, the figure stood atop one of the boulders, a rather harmless looking staff in one hand- Never mind, the staff had a pointy bit on it!
His clothing was similar in color to his own, he noticed with a hint of curiosity. A tassel stretched down from his waist, lined with silver at the end, and he wore gloves that covered most of his palm, looping around his middle finger with a small golden ringlet. He had white hair, but the strangest thing about it was two little... were those ears? Whatever they were, they poked up through the locks on the top of his head, defiant of gravity, vaguely resembling an owl. He wore a mask, though it looked nothing like his own, black with two little golden diamonds underneath a set of circular, goofy little white eyes that almost looked like they were glaring through him, examining him, scribbling down everything he appeared to be on a little metaphorical notepad.
He disliked the owl-eared boy immediately.
His mind went into overdrive, most certainly because this was the first person he'd seen since waking up. It wasn't about the owl-boy's looks, or his ears, no, more the fact that he seemed to consider himself to be in a position of authority in this barren isle, and he could already tell he'd had problems with authority. They were the type of people to look down on you and criticize every little thing you did in order to make themselves feel better. They discarded people around them the moment they weren't useful to them anymore as if it was as easy as breathing, and he wasn't having it. No, this guy wouldn't intimidate hi-
Abruptly, the sharp tip of the staff had found its home at his throat.
"Oh." He blurted.
"Explain." The same voice prompted, much closer than before, as his thoughts had completely distracted him from the situation. The beady white eyes looked a lot less goofy.
How could he even begin to explain something he didn't even know about? What was he supposed to say? 'Oh, sorry, I got stranded out here with no memory of who I am?' Was this his land, or something, and what was Eden?
"Um..." He began, intelligently, "Well, could you.. would you mind moving the sharp thingy? Away from me? Please?" He squeaked, his voice rising in pitch as he tried not to sound too petrified. It wasn't working that well. "That's- It's not very optimal for talking, er, explaining anything, no. Not sure if you've had lessons in etiquette, but it's not usually- uh- the nicest way to.. introduce yourself, you know, sticking sharp things at- at very vulnerable parts of me. Which- which if you weren't aware, that is my neck, and if you put that thing any closer we might be having.. having more than.. than territorial... problems..." His voice trailed off as he was inspected, the sharp point still hovering just underneath his chin. Sharp pointy staffs were added to the list of dangers out here, alongside man-eating seagulls.
The taller boy sighed, before pulling it away and standing, rising above him as he looked down with a frown he knew was on his face, even if he couldn't see it. At least he had moved the sharper end of his staff away from him. He had much better bets facing the diamond shaped hollow end than that one.
"We usually don't see Vallians out here. They'd much prefer to be holed up in their little miniature personal palaces." The boy sneered, giving him another sharp look that made him feel like his stomach was crumpling up into a little tiny ball. He looked disdainful, like he was nothing more than dirt underneath his boots. He was hit with another barrage of questions, all competing to come flying out of his mouth first like a flock of startled birds.
He opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted as the boy took another step toward him.
"What's your name, Vallian? You are a Vallian, right?" This guy was just full of accusations, wasn't he? Trying to read him like a book? He couldn't suppress the hint of irritation that made his left eye twitch, and he puffed out his chest before he responded.
"For your information, yes, I am a Vallian," he spoke on instinct, the words flowing out of his mouth as easily as a gurgling stream, "and my name is North."
He paused, his mouth opening slightly in shock as he processed exactly what he had just said. The words had come on a whim, as if he'd said them many times before, and they felt so natural that he knew what he had said had to be correct. As he knew for a fact clouds drifted on invisible winds, he knew that he was a Vallian, even if he didn't know what one was just yet, and that his name was North.
North. It had a nice ring to it.
"Well, stop gaping then, North, and tell me why you're in the Isle of Dawn. A vacation, maybe? You know very well that Vallians aren't typically seen this far out, so either you're here out of pure idiocy or you're up to some funny buisness, which I know for a fact isn't going to work. " The boy snarled, whipping the staff around and there was the pointy bit again- WAY TOO CLOSE TO HIS NECK!
"HEY! I'm not interested in whatever- whatever dangerous escapades you might be going on, swinging about your spindly little stick! Which I requested, politely, for you to keep away from my face, by the way!" North shouted, scooting frantically backward despite his protesting limbs, trying to get away from the glittering silver point he'd seen enough of for hopefully the rest of his life. What was with this guy and trying to stick pointy things through his chin? He glared, or tried to, since his eyes were mostly locked onto the tip of his staff, making him go cross-eyed.
"Don't play dumb. What are you, an amnesiac?" Haha, ironic. "You Vallians are always up to no good, and everyone knows that. Using your piles of stolen riches and manipulating all of us into believing you're perfect, pretty little princes, princesses, and the like. I'm not having it."
North was faced with multiple choices here. He could either lie and make up some sob story in order to get this weird staff-wielding owl boy off of his back, or he could admit the fact that he didn't have the slightest clue where he was, and didn't have the slightest clue about his identity. He worked his jaw, trying to figure out where his grasp on language had disappeared off to. Somewhere up in the sky with the man-eating gull, maybe.
He opened his mouth, hoping to try to get some words into the argument, maybe he could convince this arrogant little owl boy of his identity and figure out even a third of the questions in his head. Before he could, though, another voice called out into the light of the setting sun, much louder, and much more threatening. He felt his stomach drop another six feet beneath him.
"Who's this scrap?"
There was a girl coming over the rise, now. She carried an air of importance, like she knew exactly what she was going to do and exactly where she was going to do it, and right now, her sights were set on the quivering boy in the sand who looked ready to burst into tears. North regretted standing up. Could he just pretend to pass out, and maybe they'd leave him alone? Maybe they'd think he was diseased. Was plague a thing out here?
"No clue. Hasn't given me a straight answer besides saying his name is North, 'n that he's a Vallian." The owl-boy muttered, rising up to his full height and thankfully away from North, clearing the view, so he could actually get a good look at the girl.
In turn, she seemed to get a good look at him.
She had a very wide brimmed sunhat on, that was the first thing he noticed, considering how glaringly obvious it was on top of her head. It had a ribbon tied around its middle, but he couldn't exactly see where it was tied off. Her clothes were, unlike the owl-boy, a pleasant shade of tawny brown and a bit shorter than his, leaving her forearms exposed besides her sleeves. She had long pants, flowy and a bit wet at the bottom, most likely from wading about in the shore. She had no mask. Her face was exposed, revealing gentle, silvery blue eyes, such an unnatural color. It took him a minute to process their true color considering his brain kept trying to make him think it was from the light of the sun. There was a long, reflective and frankly beautiful cape hanging down from her shoulders, more rounded than the owl-boy's, but with golden orbs hanging on invisible threats from its brim. There was a little spark of white underneath the edges of her cape, wrapped shyly around her front.
Unlike his awed stare, though, when she set her eyes upon him they grew wide and alarmed. North felt his gut begin to do backflips.
He nearly screamed when she took several long steps toward him and knelt down in front of him, reaching forward and hooking her pointer finger underneath his necklace, which was already rather snug around his neck, pulling it toward her. He tried not to strain, considering the owl-boy was tossing his staff threateningly, but he was prepared to bolt when she pulled out her own necklace in the shape of a pair of hands holding what looked to be an orb, comparing them.
"That's gold." She gasped. She was close to him, not too close, but close enough that he could smell forests and fresh rain. Were there forests around here somewhere? She was still brushing her thumb over one of the points of the snowflake on his necklace. He felt uncomfortable, to say the least.
"Uh- it is? I mean, well, sure, yours is too, isn't it?" He managed. Her gaze flashed up to him, and he nearly had a heart attack.
"No," She started, finally leaning away and giving him enough room to breathe, "Mine is faux. You- where did you come from?" She demanded, rising back into a standing position. The owl-boy looked lost.
"If I tell you, you won't believe me." He muttered under his breath, glancing away, studying the grains of sand on the beach one by one.
"Try me."
He pursed his lips, and recounted exactly what had happened about five minutes ago, trying not to look too long at the pair's expressions. While the owl-boy kept the confounded look on his face, the girl's eyes began to clear in understanding, but she also looked to be piling up nearly as many questions as he had. His voice slowly began to grow quieter and quieter until, by the end of his story (which wasn't very long) it had diminished to being barely above a whisper.
The girl blinked at him, (he looked suspiciously akin to a deer in headlights,) raising her eyebrows until they slowly disappeared inside flyaway strands of her hair. North felt himself growing even more conscious of himself, reddening, feeling the back of his neck start to burn.
"So..." The girl began, and North's face felt like it was being slow roasted over an open flame. "You woke up here, half buried in the sand, with a solid gold necklace, something nobody could ever even dream of affording nowadays- maybe back in the Imperial era, but that was ages ago- and you have no idea who you are?"
North nodded, very hesitantly, like the action would end with his head separated from his body. Which, considering the half vehemently angry, half mortified look on her face, he considered it a pretty decent possibility.
Whatever he'd said must've angered her, though, because after a moment of terse silence she grabbed him by the arm and yanked him up, as if she expected him to be able to stand on his own two feet for longer than two seconds. His center of gravity felt like it was some-fifteen feet above his head and currently doing somersaults, so it was no surprise when he pitched forward with a sound akin to that of a cat being strangled. Pinwheeling one arm and gripping onto the shoulder of the girl for dear life, he barely steadied himself, a harassed look on his face.
"You could have injured me!" He shouted indignantly, passing a frightened glance to the ground, just barely bracing one leg in the sand and knowing for a fact that if he so much as put a feather's worth of pressure on it, it would most likely buckle. Stupid.. inability to instantly have his strength back after being asleep for who knows how long.
"I would not have. Up." She commanded curtly, yanking his elbow into place next to her, taking a hesitant step forward like she, too, wondered if he was stable enough to walk more than half a foot.
"Would too."
"Would you like a mouthful of sand?"
That was the end of that.
She pulled him along at a steady pace as he just barely managed a mangled limp. He nearly fell on several occasions, and one time he did, his nose cracking on a stone step conveniently placed in his path. He swore up and down she had let him fall on purpose. She, however, simply handed him a rather fancy blue and gold handkerchief for his now bloodied upper lip and swatted him on the forehead. He was smart enough to know when to stop pushing it.
The shadow of the cliff in front of them soon washed over him, darkening his skin and making the little glittering fragments of sand look like stars. His eyes followed the steps, broken and ruined by time, little sprouts coming up from imperceptible crevices in the dark stone. Starburst cracks traced shadow patterns next to where he set his feet down, as if the terrain was molding to meet his path. It distracted him for a moment until he looked up again, his eyes meeting pitch darkness, the mouth of the great cave he'd seen before yawning open to consume him.
He felt a little chill run down his spine, all the way down to his toes. He was sure the girl shepherding him forward felt it too, as she shook him lightly.
"Calm down. You're not going to die." Doubtful, a little voice in the back of his head told him. In his mild terror, he noticed that she had a distinct accent different from his own. While his t's nearly vanished when he spoke and his o's seemed to be especially well pronounced, she seemed to shorten and slur words together. Not in a bad way, though, as he felt himself unconsciously trying to figure out exactly how she did it.
He chose to make a face at nothing in particular and continue walking forward- after nearly cementing a permanent carving of his face into the ground, he amended that word to stumbling- trying his best to keep up with the shockingly lenient pace of his captors.
Were they captors? What made someone a captor? He supposed being dragged on involuntarily would count as the said dragging-folk being captors, so he decided to settle on that word for now. Though, they weren't exactly being unkind to him. He had half expected them to put some crude form of handcuffs on him and make him soldier march his way into the cave, so he was very thankful for the less-than-rough treatment. At least, as of now.
His captors carried him underneath the overhang, shadows descending over their little trio of mismatched folk. It was not unlike a coffin lid descending over his head, sealing his fate into the hands of the shadows he stepped blindly into. The darkness was cool, a welcome change from the sun beating down on his head back in the open, and he heard water dripping, a little tick, tick, tick in the back of his thoughts, almost in tune with his footsteps. He wondered where he was headed.
Things only got weirder when, as the three walked into the cave, mysterious carvings began to glow a soft, gentle shade of blue not unlike the sky. It was almost as if they were reflecting some invisible light that was emitting from the trio- a light he couldn't seem to detect on his own. This was odd, and a chill ran down his spine, down to his toes.
"Where are we going?" He finally found the strength to ask, his voice wavering with nerves in the damp cave as he trailed after his captors. "Also, what are your names? You got mine, and never really told me yours, isn't- isn't that polite, to, uh, return the favor? Unless I'm asking too much. In which you can ignore me. I'm- have a feeling I'm- you know, used to that. Just a little thought. So it's no trouble. No bother at all, don't you fret." He finished with a lilting, nervous chuckle. It was a habit of his to unintentionally make himself look as suspicious as possible, and that brilliant skill was showing its hideous face at this very moment.
"You're in no place to be asking questions- " the girl began, bristling and looking like she was prepared to smack the living daylights out of North, but she was interrupted swiftly by a steadying hand from the boy. He gave her a firm look. North had a feeling they knew something he didn't, and that was why they were kidnapping him. What could they possibly want with him? Some weird prophecy telling of a half dead guy laying on the beach with amnesia? No, that surely couldn't be it. As much as he fantasized about being a great hero to save the day in the end, even he knew that he wasn't that important.
...Wait, since when did he fantasize about being a great hero?
It was difficult to school his expression. He kept digging back into his thoughts and pulling things out at random, as if he could only properly remember whatever mess his past might've been if he did it without trying.
"North," He picked up his head. The girl had spoken, giving him a scrutinizing glare. It also looked like she was withholding something, biting her tongue. It made him wonder. Eventually, though, she turned away, focused back on their trek through the very dark, very wet tunnel. "Never mind."
What a fat load of help that was.
"Tell him. He's probably really confused, by the look of it. He looks like a moron, come on! Cut him some slack!" The boy nipped at the girl, to which North himself barked out an offended, "Hey!"
"You do understand the weight of that, right? The risks? If he's who we think he is, we can't put anything at stake." The girl insisted, scathingly, only for what North began to assume was her brother to shoot back. So they did know something he didn't! Ah, his intuition really was quite remarkable, he discovered. Was intuition the right word?
"Well, for or all he knows, he's being kidnapped," Check. "We could be on our way to a slaughterhouse-" Double check. "-And we could be getting ready to sacrifice him to some insane god that's a giant manta!" Alright, that one was pushing it, whatever a manta was. He decided to step in.
"Listen, whatever is- whatever's preventing you from spilling everything to me, psshhhh, doubt it's that big of a deal. Honestly, what's stranger than waking up with no memory on the shore of some random peninsula you've never seen in your entire life and getting forcibly picked up like some stray driftwood by a pair of hooligans who may or may not want to kill you? Oh, and not to mention the fact that I barely even recognize myself and only remember things when I don't push to actually remember them, which makes absolutely zero sense, by the way, and who named their kid North? I mean, not complaining too much, it's not as bad as something like Herbert, but- but if that's one of your names I'm sure you pull it off well, you're- you're quite good looking, I don't doubt that you could manage being named Herbert. " He rushed out.
Judging by the blank expressions on both of their faces as they proceeded to stare at him, they were not very impressed. They both exchanged another look, and North felt surprisingly left out from their secretive sibling telepathy.
Finally, the girl took in a far-too-long sigh, like she hadn't breathed for the past few minutes and needed to catch up
"Alright, North. What do you know about this world that you're in?"
"That's- that's not an easy question to answer, I do hope you realize." He replied, his voice bouncing off of the stone walls that still surrounded him, dripping with moisture. The cave had gotten progressively darker as they'd walked, despite the peculiar, glowing carvings, and he could've sworn it might've been getting bigger, deeper, wider. His kidnappers were turning into a comfort in the vast blackness of the cavern, but he would never tell them that. How was he meant to summarize what he knew? Maybe he should start with what he didn't know, yeah, that seemed a lot easier to put together than trying to encompass the few grains of intellect stuffed into the hard-to-reach corners of his noggin.
"Well, I don't exactly know what a Vallian is, first off, assuming you believe me on the fact that I am an amnesiac. I do know what amnesiac means, though, which- which I can only assume means I have a large vocabulary, come to think of it—" He was abruptly cut off when the girl became swiftly fed up of his nonsensical blabbering.
"Get to the point, please?" She scolded, and he felt himself shrink back, trying to pick up the pieces of his thoughts. Sheesh, these people were rude, honestly, did they ever learn their manners? He supposed he probably should've figured out where he was going with that though before he'd started going, so he guessed they had a point. Woe.
"I don't know where I am, or anything, really. I know basic things, like, er, what's a good example..." He scratched the back of his head, only for his wrist to swiftly be snatched down by the boy. He wasn't deterred from speaking. "I know that snow melts when it gets hot, when the sun heats it, for example. I know what birds look like, and I know that they can recharge your light. What use light may have, or what it is, you may ask? I draw a blank there." He explained, in a much more coherent and easy to understand manner, so much so that both the girl and the boy visibly relaxed. Was he that obnoxious?
For a short period of time, both the boy and the girl were silent, and the only sound was of their footsteps clicking on the stone like a mantra. Maybe it was just him, but their footsteps got louder the further they delved into the cavern. Would it ever end?
...He was becoming strangely philosophical in these first few minutes he'd known himself.
Finally, their footsteps began to slow, and eventually stopped altogether. The only sound was dripping down the side of the cave behind them, and he could feel water sloshing against his shoes. He was about to open his mouth, but the girl beat him to it.
"Do you see these carvings, North?" She asked, bringing up one hand to point to the wall, and his eyes followed. Oh. Those weird, mystical, strangely familiar... hard-to-make-sense-of-and-mostly-chicken-scratch carvings.
"Well, ah.." He shifted on his toes, trying to get his feet out of the chilly water. Then again, he didn't have much elsewhere to go, as the two maybe-siblings still posed a threat, and he could still feel the sharpish point against his neck. "They are a little hard to miss, mind you. Yes. Yes, I have... I have indeed seen the magical glowing carvings. The ones that started glowing, very eerily, when we walked in. Specifically when you two walked in. Maybe me." He rambled, finishing with a tiny, nervous chuckle.
"What do they look like to you?" She asked, dropping her arm, but his eyes stayed on the wall, scanning over the carvings with a fresh and hopefully open mind. As open as it could be.
He took his time, trying to manage together a description that hopefully wouldn't paint him to look any more like an idiot than he already was. "Some plus signs... some weird looking curvy shapes that kinda resemble misshapen beans, maybe? Oh, and are those supposed to be people? If... the people here have big spiral bodies and weird beady heads? Is that a common thing here? I-I won't judge if that mask is hiding a little bead head, big man." He gave a shaky point to the boy, but received a dull huff in response. Bah, his humor always went under appreciated.
The girl gave him what might've been a wry smile, before pointing to a collection of the odd plus signs again. Steadily, she began to point to each collection of carvings, and spoke.
This story starts a long, long time ago.
A very long time ago, long before you probably even existed, honestly. Well, of course it was before you existed, you look about twenty, if I gave my best guess.
...Anyways, a very long time ago, there was a great city that lived amongst the stars.
This city reigned united above the six kingdoms of Dawn, Prairie, Forest, Valley, Gold, and Knowledge. This nexus of culture and prosperity was known as the seventh kingdom, the Kingdom of Eden, or, if you happen to be one for fancy old titles, the Kingdom of Imperia.
Imperia had existed for as long as the history tomes go back. Ruled over by the King, he kept the world at balance, and the Dark at bay, where it was imprisoned at the peak of Eden: the most secure jail cell of all.
Each individual kingdom beneath Imperia was ruled over by an Elder, the strongest and most skilled member of their kingdom who was chosen to protect their people for a hundred years. After these hundred years, they would be allowed, finally, to rest, as permitted only by Naiho himself, who assisted and guided the transition. To put it bluntly, they died.
They were gifted powerful abilities unique to themselves and their talents also by Naiho, known most frequently as the Megabird- I know, dumb name. I didn't pick it, okay? Hush. Telling a great and powerful story takes a lot of energy.
Naiho is, or, was- God. He was the thing our world revolved around, as He gave the great Kingdom of Imperia power. He gave the King the strength to withstand the great raging Darkness, and keep it rightfully locked away, for what everyone thought would be forever. After all, who could possibly think of destroying a God?
These Elders were chosen from their kingdoms to train in Imperia for exactly one hundred days, and one hundred nights. The training was ruthless, nonstop, advancing their already superior skills until the select few chosen from their Kingdom would attend the great Tournament to decide who, of the competitors, would rise up and take their position as the next Elder after receiving the blessing of the previous one.
This was an incredibly competitive event. The most egotistical, strong, and hardheaded fools gathered together in one place was bound to cause disaster. A lot of times, disaster indeed did strike, for example, when the two most powerful Valley twin champions refused to back down, and they were so equally matched in strength that they stressed out even the Megabird Himself, in which He gave up and simply allowed them both to become the Elders of their Kingdom. That, though, is a story for another time.
Now, the King had a child, the Princess. The Princess was intended to take over his role when she grew of age, and when he became too weak to hold the throne.
Alas, this is where true disaster began to strike.
Unfortunately, many details of this story, especially here, are lost to time. What we do know is that when the King's time came, he refused to relinquish his power. He wanted to protect his daughter, for he knew of the responsibilities and hardships that came with ruling over the world, and holding its greatest enemy at bay, every day, every night. So, that's what he did. Alas, he could not do it forever.
The Princess, it is rumored, in a malicious turn of events, tried to take the throne by force. It is told that she attempted to strip her father of his power with the assistance of a traitor Elder, so he could pass on and she could pridefully take her rightful role in the Kingdom.
Everything went wrong.
Again, most of this story here becomes lost to time and jumbled in mismatched rambling. Some say the Megabird stripped them both of their power. Some say the Princess succeeded in her act. Some say the King destroyed his own daughter. All we know for sure is that the conflict broke the prison, and the Dark was underestimated by even Naiho himself.
Thus, the fall of Imperia began. Great rifts broke apart the land, creatures of darkness long-since banished came screaming from the void. The sky turned obsidian black, and ooze began to fill the lakes of the Golden Kingdom, tar leeching through pipes meant to send fresh water to the Kingdoms who fell short of it.
Our world is often described to be one massive, living, breathing thing. Each part of it is connected, and that means you can think of Eden as its core, or, Heart. See, it comes full circle!
If you know how essential a heart is though to the body, you know what can happen wen it is disturbed, or if something happens to go wrong with it. The body falls apart, and without something to keep life circulating through it- it dies. Our world was destroyed, and Naiho left along with it, only leaving our kind with one last source of hope: our Light.
The Elders, unable to free themselves from their roles, became corrupted by the darkness. The world was falling apart, and many were lost in the ruins of the Imperial Age, cursed to forever be spirits. Just before we thought our world would die, a miracle occurred.
The Dark fled!
The great Light spread through the world, through every kingdom, pushing the Dark back in a blinding wave of power. It contained it at the peak of Eden once more, but the prison would never be the same. Even now, the Storm rages, and the corruption of our Elders, of our spirits, and the dark beasts remain. The Storm grows, little by little. This miracle, this shining light, cannot last forever. Even now, as I tell this story, we can all feel it growing.
This Light though, this last gift, gave our kind the ability of flight. We were able to free ourselves from the shackles of the earth, and rise to the skies, where we began to find new ways to do whatever we could to fend off the darkness. Given the power of birds, we can only dream and hope that it was one final gift from Naiho himself, to paint us in his image as the Dark took him from us. Sadly, all it is is a temporary solution, holding on to a foolish hope. What morons we were.
Then, here, in the sands, the Caves of Prophecy were found from the ancient Imperial times, most likely abandoned, as Imperia was believed to be invincible, and what use did prophecies of regeneration and hope have to serve an indestructible utopia?
This cave, though, held the hope our people needed. You can even see the markings in this cave itself, spread outside the original, sad mockeries, but brought upon by poor fools telling the legend of how the Dark can finally be purged, once and for all. A great power lies at the peak of Eden, its Heart. Something strong enough and bright enough to free us and allow us to return to our golden age, to right all of our wrongs. This power is said to be wielded by the one who sent us our great Light all those years ago, the one destined to save us all. With the darkness in each Kingdom purged, the Light may retake its throne, and forever seal away the Dark in the Eye of the Storm.
Who sent us the Light, you may be wondering? Sadly, we have no idea. Nobody does. All we know is that a great power was unleashed that day, and we have someone to thank for it.
It is said they will return in a blinding star shot down from the Storm itself, shot off somewhere over the sea, at the very start. At Dawn.
We can only hope these legends are true. Though, I have a feeling they very much are.
It's all one can do, in these dark, dark times, to hope for a way for the entire world to change right underneath our feet.
His mind had been occupied by listening to her words, walking alongside her and watching her trace intricate carvings that told the story of the rise and the fall of this ancient kingdom. He was truly fascinated, and though all of it felt familiar, it also seemed like he could poke his head in and nose about a few carvings, like some things were a little off. Details were out of place, it seemed, he could almost feel his instincts telling him so. Despite the nagging at the back of his brain about it, though, he couldn't even come close to telling what the correct details might've been. Bummer.
Then, sunlight hit his face.
Glorious, warm, beautiful sunlight, and a fresh breeze blew by, rustling his hair fondly as the trio took their sweet time padding up another set of old and worn steps. Little thimble-sized bunches of flowers grew in-between stones, and he tried his best to avoid crushing them, dancing as best he could over the little intertwined greenery. He scrabbled up the last step with a grunt, trying his best not to scrape his other knee, as he'd already cleared the skin off of his left just trying to get into the cave itself.
The moment he tilted his head to look away from the budding flowers, though, he was all but blinded by the sheer brightness of the view laid out before him. As his vision cleared, speckled with rosy red and a bright shade of blue, he couldn't withhold a gasp of pure awe at the beauty of the sight before him, before shutting his mouth as effectively as if someone had taken their hand and closed it for him.
It looked like something out of a fairy tale. That was the only way he could think to put it.
Blue. Blue, blue, blue, goodness, he'd never seen so many shades at once. Then again, he couldn't even remember seeing so many shades in his five minutes of properly existing, but seriously, this had to be outrageous.
A sea of lavender-blue sand stretched out before them from the narrow cliff they had found themselves perched on, glittering and shifting with gentle gusts of wind. It was strangely serene, spires of stone jutting up from the sands decorated in elaborate and clearly ancient carvings from what he could see. They looked almost unnatural, like they had been placed there deliberately, ruins of some long-forgotten city or world of some sort that had been abandoned a long time ago, longer than his two captors were old, probably.
His mind was still lingering on the story he'd been told when he lifted his eyes away form the sands to look at what appeared to be a temple nestled in the clouds, far away, the path blurred by fog and dust blown by winds that searched and scrawled the stomach of the desert. Surely that couldn't be the storm, could it? It looked a lot less... stormy, then he had imagined. Rather, it looked more beautiful and mysterious than anything. He wondered what exactly it was. He had a feeling he was about to get his answer.
"You are in the Kingdom of Dawn, the first Kingdom, and the beginning of our world, where all journeys end and start, or, at least, that's what my Ma always said." The girl let out a fond chuckle, and smiled the first actually real smile he'd seen. So she did have feelings! Remarkable! He had begun to think all she was was bite. "That big building in the sky is the Temple of Dawn, where our Elder resides. It's been a long, long time." She spoke more solemnly now, and the smile that had gently painted her features was gone. He missed it, somewhat. Hey, at least that wasn't Eden. For all of the compliments it had been given in her little story, he was expecting something very grandiose, but he doubted he'd be able to see it from here. The kingdom was blurred with walls of sand and clouds, and he supposed he'd have to somehow get above the thick smog to even begin to try and see past it. He doubted there was a way to do that, though, unless- hadn't the girl mentioned flying?
He turned back to the two. "Are you going to tell me your names now?" He blurted, without really thinking about his rather blunt tone. Ah. Yikes.
"Well, I suppose it would be fitting." The girl frowned, but gave a small bow in his direction, followed by the boy that was standing next to her, though his was much more stiff and, to put it blankly, fake. He supposed he didn't mind, though. The bowing made him feel like royalty, which was something he never wanted to feel like in his entire life.
"My name is Lillia, or Lily, or just Li, for short. This is my friend and adopted brother, Poseidon. To make it clear, we aren't related by blood. We just practically grew up together." She nodded, fondness in her tone. There was a certain kindness in the way Poseidon straightened and tilted his chin at her, too. They had a close bond. Did they still have weird sibling telepathy even if they weren't blood siblings? All he was getting now was a new slew of questions he wanted to ask about them. Gah, he wished whatever had forced him to forget everything he'd even known had also forced him to forget his unquenchable curiosity, at the very least.
Something still wasn't adding up, though. He took the moment of silence to finally let loose the burning questions that were fluttering around in his gut like a swarm of angry bees.
"Okay, but what does all of this have to do with me? Why did you show me all of this? Why did you kidnap me in the first place? You're hiding something from me, and I already know little enough as is, why cam't you stand to spare me at least a smidgen of kindness and reveal the secrets you have shoved down your throat?" He spoke a lot more sharply than he intended to, and he could feel his forehead creasing with frustration, but he didn't think he had much choice. He was done dancing around the answers. He wanted them, and these two had them.
Warily, they looked at each other. Stupid sibling telepathy...
Lillia began, very slowly. "Well, you remember the part about the Light returning, right?" When he nodded, she continued, like he might lash out and swat at her. With all of his frustrations building up in the back of his throat, he was very tempted to. Or maybe that was just nausea. When had he last eaten?
"It is said that the Light would fall from the sky and land in Dawn, and approximately twenty hours ago, a brilliant comet fell down and landed here, on the peninsula."
His breathing stuttered. What exactly was she getting at?
"Me and Poseidon came down from the Caves of Prophecy in response to the comet, and after a few hours of searching, we stumbled across a figure on the shore. We stumbled across you, with amnesia, right where that comet probably landed."
He had a very dumb expression on his face at the moment, he was nearly certain. "I don't get it."
She decided to cut to the chase, it seemed, and he felt he was going to learn what all of their sibling telepathy was about.
"North, I think you are the Light, and I think you're destined to save us all."
He blinked.
"What."