She woke up with the worst headache she had ever felt. It felt like being placed in a centrifuge and being spun around like a ragdoll. Despite this, she couldn't see. She's spinning in the darkness.
Her headache slowly begins to lessen as the minutes go by. She begins attempting to stand up, at first to no avail. She just couldn't find her sense of balance; it's like it slipped out of her mind somehow.
Attempt after attempt, failure after failure, she continues to try and regain what was lost. And finally, she was on her legs. Although her attempt to stand up wasn't the prettiest, she is upright nonetheless. Now she just has to walk; how hard can that be?
She fumbled a lot-an embarrassing amount, more than she would like to admit. There were more faceplants than can be counted on one hand, but walk she did, and walk she shall. Here's an issue she forgot about because she was so fixated on getting on her feet: it's dark. She couldn't even see her own hand when it was placed right in front of her face.
She stood there with no sense of purpose. Until a little light was seen in the distance, it could have well been a hallucination, but she would like to believe it wasn't.
As time passed, the light kept getting brighter and closer until it was right up to her face. It was a horse-drawn carriage. The source of that beautiful yellow light was a lantern that hung in front of the carriage. A man dressed in black greeted her.
What stood in front of the carriage was a girl with fringed bob-styled hair, but slightly more on the puffier side; it also had a violet tint to it. Her eyes, illuminated by the light, revealed gorgeous ocean blue eyes. Her stature was relatively short, around 160 cm (5 ft 4 in), and her chest was slightly flatter than what you would expect from someone her height. She also had a decently skinny waistline.
However you looked at it, the girl that stood in front of the carriage was a beautiful one, and it made the man dressed in black very confused. and stutter with his words.
"Hello there, young lady, What are you doing in the middle of the woods?"
"I-uh-I don't know h-how I got here."
She stuttered like a cat got her tongue. The man looked suspicious of her until he started looking at her wardrobe. She was barely wearing anything and was on the verge of being completely naked. Only a cloth tied around her hips.
"She could be a slave; maybe she got separated," thought the man. The man looked perplexed as to what to do next. Meanwhile, she stood there with an emotionless face.
"Hey, hop on."
"What?"
"You heard me, hop on; this is no place for a young lady."
She walked behind the carriage and hopped in. She sat down next to the crates of goods.
The carriage had no door. People could enter the carriage from behind. The roof of the carriage arched over the base and was made of cloth. It was supported by some rope and wood.
"There's some old clothing in that crate; give it a looksie; maybe you'll find something that fits you."
She found an old shirt and a pair of worn-out trousers that fit her. The man ordered his horse to resume walking. Looking at the amount of supplies he had in the back of his carriage, he might be a wandering trader.
"So, what's your name?" Asked the Trader.
"Name?" She responded, confused.
The man facepalmed and whispered to himself, "She's a slave; slaves don't have names; she's going to be so confused."
"Uhh, forget it, sorry." He followed up.
She looked confused by the trader's whispers, but she felt something whispering in her ears. It kept repeating the same phrase, but she couldn't understand it. It's like the universe was trying to tell her something.
The sound of the horse trotting was the only thing breaking the loud silence of the woods.
"Aine," she said out of the blue.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"My name is Aine."
The man looked back at her in awe. He couldn't believe that she had a name-that meant she wasn't a slave after all.
"Well then, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Aine; you can call me Daegal."
They rode the carriage for miles and got to know each other.
"Do you really not remember anything?"
"No, I barely know my own name."
"Well then, I don't know a lot about this world, but I can tell you a classic tale about this world; maybe it'll jog your memory."
And so he told the story of this world:
"Once upon a time, there was a happy world, a world radiating with sunlight. But on one faithful day, the world was plunged into the Eternal Night. The source of everyone's joy was stripped away, the sun."
"We don't know why he did it," said Daegal.
"Who did what?" asked Aine.
"The self-proclaimed God of the Sun, Deimos," answered Daegal.
"Is that all true?" asked Aine.
"I don't know, it is merely a story," said Daegal.
Just saying the name of that ill-intentioned god of the sun sent a shiver down Aine's spine. She could feel a deep-seated hatred resonating with Daegal. Aine felt she understood this world more.
"Anyways, sorry if that was too much of a letdown..."
No, no, it's fine; it's good to know."
Daegal took Aine to the nearest village by the shore, the Moon Village. The Moon Village was located on the beaches of the Endless Ocean. an ocean that, according to the locals, had no end.
"Endless Ocean?" Asked Aine.
"It is believed to be a curse made by Deimos. Anyone who strays too far from the continent gets lost forever on the high seas, never to see land again."
Arriving in the Moon Village, Aine began looking around; the whole world felt alien to her. Daegal looked at Aine out of pity; she looked like a lost kitten trying to find its mother without a clue where to start looking.
"Hey Aine, here's a bag of Fickens."
"Ficken?"
"It's the currency of this world; with the amount I gave you, you should be able to last a week; I suggest you find a job here."
"I see. Thank you, Daegal; you're too kind."
"Don't mention it; I hope we cross paths again one day."
Daegal turned around and left the village. Aine was now all alone once again; those 2 hours spent with Daegal on the back of his carriage were memorable, and she feels like she will cherish those memories forever.
Aine walked down the street and looked into the small bag Daegal gave her; there were 20 fickens inside. For some reason, looking at the 20 coin-shaped currency in that bag made her feel fragile. Nonetheless, she set out for the village square in hopes of finding some new information.
Aine's worry only increased as she proceeded to make her way into the village square, with only the dim lanterns on the pavement providing illumination for the streets ahead. She felt out of place and as though the villagers were silently casting judgment on her.
Once she made it to the village square, she felt like she didn't have what it took to talk to a local.
There were two men passing by, having a conversation.
"Did you hear? A herald is coming to visit," said one of the men.
"Man, I don't want to have to pay them again," said the other man.
Aine just couldn't find a place to jump into the conversation. However, she mustered up all the courage her amnesiac body had left and approached a housewife on her shopping trip to the marketplace.
"Umm, excuse me, miss. I'm sorry for bothering you, but I just moved here, and I want to know more about this village."
"Oh, hello, darling, why don't you swing by my house?"
"Oh, that's not necessary; I just want to know the local area."
"Oh, but we can have a nice conversation in my home, maybe even with some tea?"
A soft spoken lady offered Aine to come to her home, but Aine didn't want to come across as impolite, and it appeared that she had used all of her mustered courage. With seemingly no other option, she took the lady up on her offer, and so Aine's journey took quite an interesting turn.
"Oh, how wonderful," said the lady, and she took Aine to her humble abode just down the street.
Aine noted the lady was walking in a curiously wobbly way as they continued to walk. Aine knew something was wrong, so she decided to ask her.
"Excuse me, Miss; I don't mean to be rude, but why are your legs so shaky?"
"Oh, dear, you're too kind; you call me Martha. You see, I have ataxia."
"Ataxia?"
Ataxia is a condition that makes it difficult for the patient to walk and maintain overall coordination of their limbs. As Martha has had ataxia for almost 15 years, it would seem that it will only get worse as she ages.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know."
"Oh, it's alright, dear; there's nothing that could be done now. I'm old; wasting precious fickens on an old geezer like me for some medical bills just won't be a smart option; my time is almost up anyway."
Aine walked forward with a faint hint of sadness as she stared down at her own feet.
"Oh, darling, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be such a downer; my house is just down that alley over there."
Turning the corner into the alley revealed an old cottage that has seen better days. Martha took Aine inside the cottage. Inside, she saw multiple pieces of old wooden furniture that were covered in spider webs. Two very comfortable-looking chairs were also present, facing the charcoal-filled fireplace.
"Oh dear, please excuse the filth."
Martha opened the door to the kitchen, where she dropped off all her groceries at the dining table. She reached into the cupboard and took out matches, with which she lit one of the lanterns in the kitchen, illuminating the abode.
"Please, please, have a seat," said Martha.
Martha pointed to a chair in the kitchen. Aine sat down on the chair as Martha prepared some tea.
"Make yourself right at home, darling."
Aine sat down quietly; the atmosphere was heavy, and she had no idea how to break the ice. As Martha began humming while brewing the tea, something caught Aine's attention. It was a picture frame hanging on the wall.
The film used for the picture seems to have deteriorated after being left here for so long; the picture was barely visible. Aine stood up to take a closer look; she noticed more details than she could from afar.
A man is seen in the picture seemingly hugging a woman. Even though the background is hardly discernible, she was still able to tell that a tall tower is present in the shot.
Aine wanted to know more; her curiosity was through the roof. So she decided to ask Martha about it.
"Miss Martha, this picture-what is it?"
"Oh dear, that's me and my husband in front of an old tower."
"Your husband? Where is he now?"
"Oh, darling, his time had past."
The atmosphere was just beginning to warm before the cold from Martha's statement blasted the room. The atmosphere was once again suffocating, the silence was deafening, and Aine felt like it was her fault.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know."
"Oh, it's not your fault, dear; you were curious, and all I did was present the story."
Aine felt bad, and looking back at the living room, she saw two chairs in front of the unlit fireplace. One of the chairs, to the right, remained clean and looked comfortable to sit on, while the other one, to the left, was dirty, monochrome-feeling, and looked almost soulless.
"Dear, please have a seat in the living room."
She was holding a tray with two cups and a teapot on top. Martha walked into the living room and rested the tray on a coffee table. Martha poured the tea into the cups and sat on the right chair. Aine took a cup and sat in another chair that wasn't the one belonging to Martha's husband.
Martha smiled gently as she took a sip of the tea. The chair that Aine sat on was visibly less comfortable and had no back rest, resembling more of a stool.
"Now, dear, what is it you want to ask me?"
"How do I say this... I lost my memory; I don't know anything about this world."
"I see, so what do you want to know?"
"What is Moon Village?"
Moon Village is a human settlement created in the southeast of the continent. It borders the Eternal Sea, the sea that is said to have no end and where death is certain. Off the west of the village is a forest called The Forest of Dreams, while up north is the Obice Mountain Range that spans all the way from the east to the west of the continent, splitting the continent into two regions.
The Pulchra Province up north, and the Pauperis Province down south. Pulchra is known for its riches and its upper class. It's magnificent-a homeless man's wet dream. In stark contrast to Pauperis, which is filled to the brim with the beliefs of nihilism and poverty. Deimos segregated humans into three categories: the upper class, the middle class, and the lower class.
The upper class are the people who inhabit Pulchra Province full-time, the rich snobs who have never known pain. The lower class are the less fortunate people who have to deal with the cruel Pauperis Province. While the middle class is an interesting one, they can have homes in Pulchra or Pauperis, depending on their jobs. Traders, paramilitaries, peacekeepers, and others with similar jobs fall into this category. The middle class is what most lower-class citizens aim to be, as reaching the upper class is a stretch of the imagination.
"Traders?" Asked Aine.
Aine dove into her void of thought, Trader? Isn't Daegal a wandering trader? The back of his carriage surely looks like one of a trader's. However, while Aine was theorizing about Daegal's status in this world, a tint of bitterness could be felt radiating from Martha's emotions.
"What's wrong?" asked Aine.
"All those traders care about is money; they get one taste of the good life, and then they proceed to ignore all of us down here; if it weren't for us, they wouldn't have a job," said Martha.
Aine took a sip of the tea.
"They can't be all bad," said Aine.
"That is true, but most of them are, so always assume the worst when accountering one," said Martha.
Aine doesn't understand. If Daegal is indeed a wandering trader, the description of a trader given by Martha doesn't match up. How much wrongdoing have other traders done to cause this much malice to emanate from Martha?
"Oh dear, look at the time," said Martha.
Aine looked at the grandfather clock on the wall. The clock struck 11.
"Aine, dear, do you have a place to stay? I have a spare bedroom if you don't," said Martha.
"Uhh, thanks, but I don't mean to intrude or be a nuisance," said Aine.
"Oh, it's alright. Follow me upstairs."
Aine followed Martha upstairs. Upstairs, there were three rooms: a bathroom, Martha's room, and a vacant room with nothing but a single bed inside. Aine walked into the vacant room. She wonders why Martha has a spare bedroom.
"If I may ask, why does this room exist?"
"Oh, darling, it belonged to my son; he's all grown up now and works as a peacekeeper and lives elsewhere with his new family."
"I see..."
"Anyways, if you need anything, don't hesitate to wake me up."
"Thank you, good night."
Martha closed the door to the room. Aine turned off the candle that was lighting the room and sat on the bed. She took off her shoes and laid down on the bed. She closes her eyes and begins drifting to sleep. She fell into slumber; she was asleep, now resting her earthly body.
I feel safe.
The world was in stygian darkness. It was quiet and peaceful.
Voices. Voices? Yes, Voices.
I am hearing voices. They sounded ethereal, like the chants of angels.
No, it sounded... restless.
Something was wrong.
The voices were reverberating; they were undecipherable.
Is this a dream?
... I don't know.
The angels are screaming.
They are arguing. Why would angels argue?
They aren't angels.
What are they?
They sound familiar.
I know them, but from where?
"Aine, can you hear me?"
I hear.
"Please, come back to us."
Come back to what? To whom? To what?
They are leaving. Their voices are fading.
It is quiet and peaceful. The world is in stygian darkness.
I feel safe.