I wake later. I am not sure of the exact passage of time. It could have been moments, days, or years. Time has passed, which is abundantly clear by the change of scenery. All around me are beeping metal things, the noise nearly uncomfortable to my ears. It is obnoxious at best. As I blink around my new surroundings, I come to the realization that I am also surrounded by people - humans, mostly male - wearing some sort of short-sleeved tunic. They look semi-formal, perhaps like a uniform. However, I cannot name them.
I have awoken from a strange sleep to an even stranger world, where I recognize nothing. Of course, my mind is completely blank of any knowledge at all prior to my awakening. It is almost like I... never existed before that agonizing experience. Is that even possible? I do not know. It seems that I have an innate understanding of some things. Such as that those beeping monstrosities are made of some sort of metal. And some of these humans have spirits hovering over their shoulders, in all shapes and sizes. How do I know of spirits, but not of where I come from? The things I do recognize come without conscious effort. Seeing the objects immediately triggers a response in my brain. Is it possible to be simply created, fully formed, and with a basic understanding of simple things?
Despite being surrounded by strange things, in a strange world, with no understanding of my surroundings, I feel safe. Perhaps logically, I should be freaked out, worried for my safety. Emotionally, though, I am not longer in pain or pinned beneath thousands of pounds of rubble. So, I am not frightened. Instead, I am rather calm. Confused mightily, but calm.
Everyone here in this room with me is unrecognizable. Only people in those tunics, that I have decided are indeed uniforms. Them... and a strange man wrapped in a flowing white cloak trimmed in gold. He is sitting placidly in the corner chair, reading a book quietly. He has a very massive, glowing bright gold hawk spirit sitting on his shoulder. The hawk, despite its intimidating size, seems perfectly content to preen his feathers.
Curious as to the spirit, I try to sit up, hissing as the motion causes a slight discomfort about my hips and gut. Immediately, every eye in the room - excluding the hawk's - are fixed on me. Before I know what is happening, I am pushed back to the bed, six or seven people crowding over the top of me in seconds.
A flash of incredible, unexplainable fury grips me, and I bare my teeth, snarling at those around me. The people above me seem shocked, and quickly back off a little. As soon as they part, the anger is gone. I am not sure where the wrath came from, or why it was so sudden, but as soon as it passes I am left feeling empty and confused. Who am I, exactly?
Before I have time to sort through my confusion and startling streak of anger, the questions start.
"What's your name?"
"How did you get stuck under that collapsed building?"
"When and where were you born?"
"How did you survive?"
"Who are you?"
The questions come rapid-fire, from multiple sources, leaving me even more confused than when they started. I don't answer any of them; I don't know how to. I simply don't know the answers.
Before they can go on, or ask why I have not answered, the man in the white cloak shuts his book softly and says in a quiet voice, "Please, leave us. You all have done an amazing job, but I think it best if I take over the questions. If one of you could grab his doctor for me, I would be very grateful."
Immediately, the room is silenced and the uniformed people all file silently out the door. One pauses to say that he will indeed inform the doctor of the man's summons, then turns and gives me a small wave before slipping out the door.
Confused, I turn to the white-cloaked man.
Before I can ask a question, he introduces himself, saying, "My name is Ashnix Trialia. I am a member of the Order of Holy Water, one of the highest-ranking members in our local Wing. You are currently at Saint Dressint hospital, in downtown Illchester, a city in the united land Urisadea. How much do you remember?"
"Nothing," I murmur. "Not before waking up under all that rubble. It's all just... empty. I also know nothing of this Order you speak of. And what is all this... stuff surrounding me? Can you make that infernal beeping stop?"
The man smiles slightly at me, before saying, "The Order of Holy Water is very closely related to a governing force. We uphold the law instituted by the king and his council and protect the mortals of this world from southern spirits and the Wildfire Cult. We go out into the world, capturing these unruly spirits and locking them away so that they are not harmed nor can cause further harm. I know you are curious, so I will tell you, the Wildfire Cult is a cult of lawlessness and destruction. They wish to rule our lands forcibly and with fear. They come from a line of royal men and women who once captured and tortured a southern spirit, taking its essence and blood and injecting both into their own bodies and their children's bodies. They are brutish and force the bond between human and spirit, using powerful spirit blood to control their bonds," as he speaks, the man reaches up to scratch his spirit under the chin. "We. the Order, try our best to track down these lawless monsters and free their spirits. Oh, I forgot to ask, do you know what a spirit is?"
"Yes. And I know what a southern spirit is. As well as a northern. A southern spirit comes from one of the southern portals into the spirit realm. Their realm is not like the one in the north. It is black and terrifying. The spirits that come from it have an evil side that bears more weight than the good. An evil spirit, therefore, is referred to as a southern spirit. A northern spirit is an exact opposite. They come from a magical land of splendor, and the good outweighs the bad. So nice spirits are called northern spirits."
"Very good. Very close, anyway. Southern spirits are evil and northern are good. Not much of the side-weighing you mentioned, but the principle is there, I suppose. How did you know that?"
Feeling as though the man's objection to my claim holds no water but wishing not to get into a fight, I simply reply with, "I don't know."
"Right. Let's see, to answer some of your questions and some I am sure you want the answers to, the shirts the men were wearing are called scrub-tops. The men themselves are nurses. They help doctors keep you healthy. The things around you are called monitors. They are monitoring things such as your heart rate, making sure that you are stable, and are not at risk of death. They are machines. Do you know what a machine is?"
I simply shake my head, finding it surprisingly easy to absorb the knowledge he is feeding me. He keeps explaining the world and the things that are now in it. Things such as cars, electricity, machines, and technology. He is patient in his explanations, talking slowly and quietly to ensure my understanding. He is only stopped when the doctor pokes her head into my room and politely asks what it was that Ashnix needed. Ashnix quickly and efficiently summarized my predicament and asked her if she could make a proper guess at my age.
At the question, the doctor spent a good few minutes scrutinizing me. The attention and focus of that attention is unnerving and uncomfortable but I want to know her guess as much as Ashnix. Perhaps it will give me some insight as to who I am. Finally, after taking in nearly every physical aspect of my body, she announces, "As an educated guess, I'd say he's around 18. We can do blood tests to get a confirmation."
Not sure what exactly that means, I turn to Ashnix for confirmation. He nods and says, "I think we better do that."
Working quickly, she calls in a nurse and hustles out of the room with a short round of instructions. This nurse is female, and straps a tight rubber thing around my arm, which I am informed is a tunicate, and inserts a needle into my arm. I have to be told what the needle is and what the tube it is connected to is for. The needle stung sharply when inserted through my skin, drawing a near-growl from my throat, which surprised everyone present... including myself.
By the time the nurse leaves with multiple tubes full of blood, I am exhausted. My pelvis is starting to ache and I wish desperately for sleep. However, before I can relax and let the black of unconsciousness claim me, Ashnix asks, "For now, we'll go with 18 years of age. Would you like it if we gave you a name?"
Groaning softly, I open my eyes and reply, "We should probably do that, yes."
For over an hour afterward, Ashnix and I debate over names. Finally, however, we settle on Kadezna. Kadezna means "he who was found". It is fitting, I think. Sleep claims me startling quickly after our conversation trails off, relinquishing my mind to sweet blackness.
When I wake again, Ashnix is still in my room. This time, however, he holds small pieces of colored parchment in his fingers. This gives me the idea that he probably left at some point and came back. He greets me kindly, informs me that I slept through the night, and much of the following day, which is apparently good for healing, and that the parchment pieces he is holding are called pictures. His hawk is ever-present on his shoulder.
Then, without further ado, Ashnix holds up one image to the hawk, who takes it in his beak so that I can clearly see it.
"Do you know what this is?" Ashnix asks. I shake my head, not wanting to summon the energy to speak. Part of me wishes that Ashnix would leave me alone. The other part of me, however, is glad of his company. "This is a bicycle," Ashnix supplies. He repeats this process many times. I learn of many things, though I recognize very few. I do manage to recognize animals and some simple things that look apparently similar enough for my mind to produce the word. Such as hats. Many, many things are new to me. For example: phones, wire, lightbulbs, skis, skateboard, and batteries. However, as the exercise continues, Ashnix starts getting into the older pictures. At first, everything was still indiscernible. But then, I started to recognize things. Like horse-drawn carriages, though I only really came up with the connection because of traditional, old wagons. The farther back in time they go, the more I recognize. Various scabbards for weapons, the remains of dark gear and light chainmail, and the shreds of a dark cloak. Before we can get too far into the past, we switch to spirits.
I am able to name the class and type of the spirits, as well as how powerful they would be compared to others of their class. Although I am not sure exactly what a spirit class is, I can name them when the spirits come up. Then this new memory retains itself. The idea of the knowledge that I am learning in such a small period of time should be impossible, and I am starting to become overwhelmed with all the new images in my mind when Ashnix calls a halt to our experiment.
"Well, Kadezna," Ashnix murmurs, taking the latest and last photo back from the hawk, "We'll have to see the blood results to know for sure, but... you're most comfortable recognizing things from thousands of years ago."
I shut my eyes, squeezing them shut. I deduced as much as he is about to tell me, but I still don't want to hear it.
"Apparently, you are thousands of years old... you're from a lost era."
A soft sigh escapes me. How can this be possible? How could I have survived for eons under the ground? Without food, water, or any other nutrients necessary for survival? What does this mean for me? Where do I go? How do I react? Who am I?!
In the background, I am conscious of Ashnix's mutterings. He is still teaching me of things of this world. But my mind is riveted on the image he showed me of the medieval castle. Something clicked with me, and I was able to name the complex workings of the castle. I could tell him the most likely place where the dining hall would be. Why would I know that?
My companion seems to be riveted to the idea of me not actually being from back then. I think he is trying to make me feel better, but I cannot leave the solid worry in my mind. It makes me feel lightheaded and a little sick. Despite his best efforts, I have no doubt. That was my time period. I am so far removed from that now. Anyone I could have asked about my identity is now gone. It seems hopeless.
Thankfully, I am quickly consumed by sleep once again, partially in thanks to Ashnix's steady droning.
Every day after this was more of the same thing, further confirming my suspicions of the past. The anxiety is a lot, and I cannot help but worry. Thankfully, my stay in the human hospital is only a week long. My hips are healed completely before they release me, and I am told that fractures, like the ones I had, healing in one week is unheard of. Whenever the nurses comment on this fact, I gently point out that nothing about my situation had ever been heard of. Now, on this last day here, Ashnix poses a question that fixes about 90 percent of my situation.
"So, Kadezna. Now that you're finally able to leave, would you like to join the Order?" Ashnix asks, watching from his corner as I stand and stretch my arms above my head. The motion is relieving, and the muscles down my back crack in appreciation.
I smile at him, the majority of my fears calmed immediately at the suggestion, and reply, "If you would have me, then I would love to. I am not sure I would... fit in very well anywhere else here."
Ashnix rises and his hawk, caught off guard by the movement, simply floats in the air where he was. After a moment and an undignified caw, the hawk flaps his wings and settles back on Ashnix's shoulder. "I think you'll be great at what we do. I even have a room in mind that will introduce you slowly to the others in your world and allow you to research your questions."
Again, I smile at him and accept his offer. That is all it took to induce me into the Order. Just a smile and simple acceptance.