A metallic cold, as if the very air had frozen, woke Sebastian. He opened his eyes heavily, blinking, not because of the light – the chamber was submerged in a reddish gloom – but because of a strange dryness, as if all the moisture had been extracted from his eyeballs. He tried to sit up, but a sharp, stabbing pain in his left knee prevented him. He let out a muffled groan, more from frustration than pain, and brought a hand to his head, not so much to calm the dull throbbing that ran through his temples, but to try, uselessly, to organize his thoughts. Or, rather, the absence of them.
"Where…?" he murmured, in a hoarse, unrecognizable voice.
He looked around, disoriented. The room was large, circular, with walls of dark stone, blackened as if by the soot of countless fires, although he didn't remember seeing any fire. A vaulted ceiling was lost in the darkness, too high for the faint reddish light, which seemed to emanate from some central point, to reach. The air stank of ozone and something else… a frigid, almost metallic residue that irritated his throat and made him want to sneeze, a smell of emptiness. It wasn't the smell of vegetation, nor of damp earth, smells that, he knew, were familiar to him.
He tried to remember. Who was he? Sebastian. The name surfaced from nothingness, a label floating in an ocean of fog. What did he do? Herbalist. He could visualize, with an almost painful clarity, images of plants, flowers, roots… He could feel the texture of the earth between his fingers, the aroma of freshly cut herbs, the intricate knowledge of their healing… and toxic properties.
He could read and write. He remembered abstract concepts, ideas, facts. He knew how to prepare an infusion, how to light a fire, how to survive in a natural environment.
But he didn't remember anything else.
Not his past. Not his family. Not his home. Not his purpose. Not how he had gotten there.
Nothing.
An absolute void. A tabula rasa. As if his previous life, everything that defined him as a person, had been erased in one fell swoop, leaving only an empty shell, filled with fragmented knowledge and an agonizing sense of loss.
He sat up with difficulty, leaning on the wall. His knee protested with a sharp pain, and he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Companions?, he thought, and the word resonated in his mind like a dissonant bell, evoking a feeling of loss, but without concrete images, without faces, without names.
His desperate gaze swept the chamber, searching for something, anything, that would give him a clue, that would help him understand, that would allow him to cling to reality, however tenuous it might be.
And then, he saw her.
Huddled in a dark corner, like a shadow among shadows, a figure. A human figure… or, at least, almost human.
A woman.
Her face was partially hidden by the darkness and by strands of green hair, an unnatural green, like seaweed. But Sebastian could make out the paleness of her skin, and the delicate shape of her body, wrapped in… leaves?
She was motionless, silent. As if she were asleep. Or…
Sebastian felt a chill run down his spine. It couldn't be. It shouldn't be.
But the sensation was unmistakable.
The sensation of emptiness.
The sensation of absence.
The sensation of… death.
He approached her, dragging his injured leg, ignoring the pain, ignoring the fear that gripped his stomach. He had to see her. He had to know.
As he got closer, he saw her more clearly.
She was a young woman, no older than twenty-three. Her body, with subtle curves, was partially covered in dried mud and scratches, as if she had been crawling on the ground, or perhaps… fighting. Her "dress"… was made of dried leaves, crudely sewn together with what appeared to be vines. And, on her head, two small horns, one of them broken near the base, gave her an… unreal appearance.
Sebastian, upon seeing her, felt a mixture of curiosity, concern, and an inexplicable fascination. It wasn't a sexual fascination, not consciously, at least, but a deeper, more primal fascination. As if he recognized her, as if he had been searching for her his whole life. Although he knew, with absolute certainty, that he had never seen her before. He couldn't have seen her before.
He knelt beside her, not daring to touch her directly. He observed her carefully. Her face, despite the dirt and exhaustion, was of a strange, almost unreal beauty. With delicate, elfin features. Her eyes, now closed, seemed enormous, disproportionate. And her lips, thin and pale, were slightly parted, as if she were about to whisper something in a language that Sebastian didn't know, but somehow, sensed.
"Hello…," Sebastian whispered, in a hoarse voice, not knowing why he was doing it, not expecting an answer. His own voice sounded strange to his ears, as if he hadn't used it in a long time.
The woman didn't move. She didn't react.
She only breathed.
A slow, deep, regular breath.
Too regular.
Like that of an automaton. Like that of a doll.
Sebastian, feeling the unease growing with each passing second, extended a hand towards her, with the intention of waking her, of checking if she was alive, if she needed help.
And then, it happened.
As he brushed her shoulder, as he felt the coldness of her skin under his fingertips, the dress of dried leaves… disintegrated.
It didn't tear, nor did it break. It simply… disintegrated.
It turned into dust.
A fine, dry dust that dispersed into the air, leaving the woman completely naked before him.
Sebastian withdrew his hand, startled, as if he had been burned. Not out of modesty, nor out of surprise – although both emotions were present – but out of a sense of… desecration. As if he had violated a natural law, as if he had disturbed something that should remain untouched.
He remained motionless, observing the woman, not knowing what to do, not knowing what to think.
Her body, now completely visible, was of a sculptural beauty. The skin, white as milk, smooth as porcelain, contrasted with the darkness of the chamber and the dirt that covered it in some places. Her curves, soft and harmonious, were both delicate and powerful.
But Sebastian didn't feel aroused. Not consciously, at least.
He felt… confusion.
He felt… guilt.
He felt… fear.
And, above all, he felt a profound sadness.
A sadness that he didn't understand, but that oppressed his chest like a stone slab.
I have to cover her, he thought, with a sudden urgency. I can't leave her like this.
He took off his herbalist's tunic, tattered and dirty, and then, with a quick and decisive movement, he took off the linen shirt he was wearing underneath. The fabric, thin and worn, was stained with blood, sweat, and dust from the dungeon, but it was the only thing he had at hand.
Carefully, avoiding any unnecessary contact, he wrapped the woman with the shirt, covering her as best he could. His fingers, clumsy and trembling, accidentally brushed her skin, her hip, her back…
And, with each touch, Sebastian felt a jolt.
Not an electric shock, but a jolt of… energy.
A strange, unknown energy that made him tremble from head to toe.
He finished covering her, relieved and disturbed at the same time. He moved back a little, breathing with difficulty, as if he had run a great distance. He remembered where he was, and the previous events, he felt he should remember, but it was useless.
What is happening?, he thought, desperate. Who is this woman? What is this place? Where are…?.
The remains.
The remains he had seen before, scattered on the floor of the chamber.
The remains that spoke of a struggle, of violence, of a… tragedy.
He approached them, slowly, cautiously, and examined them more closely.
Circles of a fine, grayish, icy powder, like ash mixed with frost, that marked places on the floor, as if something – or someone – had disintegrated right there. Fragments of twisted, splintered, unrecognizable metal. Pieces of torn fabric, stained with something dark and dry that he didn't want to identify. And a smell… an acrid, metallic smell that churned his stomach and clouded his mind.
Blood, Sebastian thought, with a shiver. Blood… and something else.