Orin's mind raced, still grappling with the nightmare that had shaken him awake moments before. The lingering dread faded as he inhaled the familiar scent of something cooking—a comforting aroma that filled his small, quiet home. The warmth from the kitchen wrapped around him, but his unease only grew as he approached, catching sight of a figure by the hearth.
A girl sat at the fire, stirring a pot with calm familiarity, as though she belonged there. Her appearance was both startling and strangely familiar. Orin took in the details—the warm, sun-kissed glow of her skin, the scattering of freckles across her nose, and vibrant green eyes that seemed to take in everything around them. Her long, dark braid draped over her shoulder, resting against her athletic frame as she turned to face him, her expression one of casual cheer.
"Oh, Orin, you're finally awake!" she said brightly, her voice warm. "Could you bring me some logs? The fire's getting low."
Orin froze. Her relaxed tone, her manner, her casual request—none of it made sense. He stared at her, mouth slightly open, feeling an odd sense of familiarity he couldn't place. Her green gaze lingered on him, playful yet puzzled.
"What?" she asked, chuckling. "Is there something on my face?"
Orin cleared his throat, his voice unsteady. "Excuse me... but who are you?"
The girl's smile faded, replaced by a look of surprise and confusion. "What do you mean by 'who are you'? I'm your sister, Lira! Can't you tell?"
Orin's heart skipped a beat. "My... sister?" He shook his head, a chill running down his spine. "I don't have a sister. I've been an only child my whole life. And this… this is my parents' house."
Lira's expression shifted from confusion to hurt, her brows knitting together as she searched his face. "Orin, please stop joking," she said, her voice growing softer. "We grew up together! How can you not remember me?"
Orin felt something inside him recoil. She seemed so sure, so genuine. But the harder he tried to recall any memory of her, the more he came up blank. He took a slow breath, trying to steady himself. "I'm not joking," he said. "I don't know you. I would remember if I had a sister."
For the next hour, they sat in the kitchen, Lira recounting stories, memories, and jokes she claimed they'd shared as children. She spoke of their adventures by the river, nights spent stargazing, and yesterday's event when he'd protected her from a wild Glimmerfang—a dangerous, wolf-like creature with prismatic fur that disorients its prey by reflecting light. Orin listened, caught between frustration and wonder, as fragmented memories stirred within him. But in each, Lira wasn't there.
Finally, Lira slumped in her chair, exhausted and close to tears. "Maybe... maybe the village chief can help," she murmured. "Chief Eldric is wise—he might understand what's going on."
Orin nodded, his mind swirling with questions. They walked through the village in tense silence, his confusion mounting with each step. When they reached the chief's house, Lira knocked with urgency. After a few moments, the door creaked open, revealing Chief Eldric, an elderly man with weathered skin and piercing eyes.
Chief Eldric's gaze swept over them. He gestured for them to enter, and they seated themselves on wooden stools by the hearth. Orin felt a mixture of relief and dread, hoping the chief could provide some clarity.
Once they were settled, Lira launched into an explanation, her words spilling out in a torrent of frustration and hurt. Orin sat quietly, his hands clenched, struggling to reconcile her claims with his own reality. When Lira mentioned Orin's encounter with the Glimmerfang, Eldric's eyes sharpened with interest.
"Wait a moment," Eldric interrupted, his gaze locking onto Orin. "You fought a Glimmerfang?"
Orin nodded slowly. "Yes, I did. It was yesterday, near the eastern woods. It came out of nowhere, and before I knew it, I was… I was able to control water, somehow. It was like the aether itself was moving through me."
The chief leaned forward, his expression intense. "Orin, did you feel anything strange afterward? Any moments of disorientation or confusion?"
Orin hesitated. "Now that you mention it... yes. After I fought the Glimmerfang, I felt different. Lighter, somehow, but it's hard to explain. Since then, I've been having strange dreams, memories that feel… foreign. And this morning, I wake up to find someone I've never met claiming to be my sister."
Eldric's expression grew grim. "I see. This might be more serious than simple memory loss." He took a deep breath, studying Orin carefully. "Orin, what you've described—the ability to manipulate aether without prior training—suggests something unusual. It's possible that this is the result of what we call a 'Heavenly Restriction.'"
Lira looked at Eldric, her face a mixture of hope and worry. "A Heavenly Restriction? Chief, what is that?"
Eldric sighed, choosing his words carefully. "Each person born under a constellation is gifted with unique powers, but there are always consequences. A Heavenly Restriction is a limitation placed on those powers, a cost that the person must endure in exchange for their abilities. Restrictions vary depending on one's celestial alignment. Some restrictions take memories, some emotions, and others can even alter a person's sense of self."
Orin felt a shiver. "So, you're saying… I could be under one of these restrictions? And it could be why I don't remember Lira?"
The chief nodded. "It's possible. If you indeed tapped into aether manipulation when you fought the Glimmerfang, that event might have triggered a restriction on your abilities—and perhaps even your memories."
Lira clutched her hands together, her voice barely above a whisper. "Then… is there a way to lift this restriction? To make Orin remember?"
Eldric stroked his beard thoughtfully. "There is someone who might help. Amara, the Aether Specialist, lives in Helior, about 125 miles through the forest of Fir. She's studied aetheric forces and restrictions for many years."
Orin felt a mixture of hope and trepidation. The idea of uncovering the truth was appealing, but the notion that his memories could be shaped—or taken—by some force beyond his control made him uneasy. "Do you think she could help me get my memories back?"
The chief nodded slowly. "If anyone can, it would be Amara. But restrictions are rarely simple, and dealing with them can be risky. Amara will explain more about the potential dangers."
Lira leaned forward, her eyes bright with determination. "Then let's go to her, Orin. We can't just leave this unsolved."
Orin took a deep breath, his resolve hardening. "All right. If there's a chance that I can understand what's happening, I have to try."
Eldric nodded approvingly. "Travel carefully—the forest of Fir is not safe, especially for those new to aether manipulation."
As they left, a strange sense of anticipation filled Orin. He glanced at Lira beside him, feeling a growing determination to remember her.