Sena crept quietly down the stairs, her steps light as she peeked over the landing. Idris was nowhere in sight.
She stretched her arms with a yawn, the early morning stillness wrapping around her like a shawl. As her arms dropped to her sides, her gaze landed on the large banner mounted above the fireplace mantel.
She couldn't help but stare.
The banner's field is a deep, dark red, framed by an elegant golden border. At its very center, a decorative design and pattern resembling a set of closed eyes is rendered in gleaming gold.
Below only one of the closed eyes, a single tear drop, bright yellow and appears to be shimmering, not painted, but embroidered with something faintly iridescent, as if it reflected the sun just right.
Subtly positioned behind this central motif of eyes and tear, an hourglass is depicted in a muted, dusty smog gold.
Hmmm… This must be the banner of Azarette. I could be wrong, but I think I saw the same image in Echoes of Elioudra.
I should really make time for those books later, she thought to herself.
Her attention drifted toward the kitchen, pristine and quiet. Drawn by a small spark of initiative, she made her way toward it.
Maybe I woke up earlier than Idris, she thought. It wouldn't hurt to make him breakfast. That'd be a decent way to repay some of his kindness.
Crouching to open one of the cabinets under the center island, she began to rummage through its contents.
Just then, the front door creaked open.
Startled, Sena shot upright, her hand still halfway inside the cabinet.
Idris stepped in, closing the door behind him with a thud. A basket full of herbs, mushrooms, and the limp bodies of a few freshly hunted rabbits dropped to the floor by his feet.
"Good morning, Mr. Noorgareth!" she chirped, her voice just a little too bright.
"I thought you were still asleep, so I was going to make something for breakfast. Sorry for rummaging around in your kitchen…"
"Idris. Just Idris. Mr. Noorgareth was my father," he scoffed while looking straight at the floor.
Sena turned slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing her face.
Maybe it's normal to address people by their first names here, she mused, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
I better get used to calling the blind man by his given name.
"A-Alright… Sir Idris," she tried again, voice dipping awkwardly.
Idris let out a long sigh, a sound laced with weariness.
"Haaahhhh… Just Idris. No Sir, not 'Mr. Noorgareth'. Just Idris. You can do it, I'm sure," he advised dryly, though his tone was laced with an almost imperceptible hint of sarcasm.
"Right. Uhm… Good morning, Idris."
A little squeak of a voice escaped her, but she managed to call him by his first name. She watched him for a reaction, her brows subtly furrowed.
He didn't flinch at hearing her say his name. But it didn't land right either.
For him, it still didn't sit right. That alluring, melodic voice belonging to a soul outlined by the silhouette of an old man cradling a baby? It unsettled him in ways he couldn't voice.
He picked up the basket and set it firmly on the counter between them. Now, face to face, he began unpacking its contents.
"Hey," he said in a more neutral tone, "can you tell me where you're from? I need to clear some things up." Idris asked, his tone shifting to a curious, almost probing note.
Sena's face tightened with discomfort.
All she could truthfully say was 'I don't know', and the thought of admitting that profound blankness made her hesitate.
As she absently helped him unload the basket, her eyes gleaming at the fresh rabbit carcass, her mind raced, trying to find the right words.
"Please don't be annoyed. I really have no recollection of anything," she said, her voice small, as she shyly checked for any telling reactions on Idris's face.
His unblinking eyes gave her nothing.
"And what does that mean? Allow me to understand clearly," he said flatly, the lack of inflection doing nothing to soothe her growing unease.
Despite his flat tone, deep inside, he was burning with curiosity, a stark contrast to his outwardly composed demeanor.
Sena fidgeted, fiddling with her fingers, the anxiety rising in small sighs.
Deja vu.
She was acutely unsure how much she should trust Idris… not yet.
He was kind, yes, but also utterly mysterious, and the thought of revealing her abrupt, inexplicable existence felt like a massive leap into the unknown.
I feel like this has happened before…
But continuing to avoid the topic felt just as unfair, she thought, a burden growing between them.
"I don't mean to be annoying but… I guess, one day, I just… woke up by a river," she began, the words slow, uncertain.
"And then I walked through this dense forest... I found this cabin and… I think I lived there. I don't know how long. Days? Weeks? It's blurry. All of it is."
She paused, glancing at him briefly before continuing. "I remember wanting to go east. I don't even know why. Then there were these fields of poisonous flowers… and I think I saw some angel statues. I'm not totally sure. But I remember knowing the river was just behind them… and then… I crossed."
Her voice grew smaller. "I swear, Mr. Noorgareth—"
"Idris," he said gently.
She swallowed. "Right. Idris. I… I swear, that's all I can remember."
Her eyes dropped to her lap.
She bit the side of her lip, her face tightening as if ashamed of how little she had to offer.
The silence that followed felt heavy, her own memories feeling less like pieces and more like cracks in something irreparably broken.
Finishing laying out the rest of what was in the basket. Idris leaned both his hands on the counter facing Sena head on, his gaze just past her.
"Hmmm…" Idris leaned slightly against the counter, his tone more contemplative now. "It might be safe to assume you're suffering from temporary memory loss… perhaps brought on by exposure to those poisonous flowers you mentioned."
His voice was calm, but something simmered beneath it.
A shift.
Then, more abruptly, "Alright. Riddle me this."
The sudden change in tone made Sena flinch.
She nervously glanced up as Idris tilted his head slightly, adjusting the angle of his face. Intentionally positioning it so his blind gaze aligned with hers.
As if he could truly see her.
His voice dropped, serious.
"Why is it," he asked, each word deliberate, "that the outline of your soul is both that of an old man… and a baby?"
Sena froze.
Her gaze fell to the floor, then slowly crept upward, pulled unwillingly toward his face. To those unseeing eyes that somehow felt as if they saw everything.
He wasn't leering.
He wasn't glaring.
But he was looking… directly, intently… through her.
Her mouth opened.
A breath.
A beat.
No words came.
"...Huh?" was all she managed to squeak out, a fractured sound caught between disbelief and dread.
— — —
He rubbed his chin, his fingers slightly scratching the stubble on his jawline. His eyes furrowed as he inspected the trail of corpse fingers that lay before him.
"Tsk," he muttered, removing the hood of his cloak. He glanced around, checking the direction the trail was headed, sweeping his gaze from left to right.
He chose the path leading to what appeared to be a slanted landmass in the distance, jutting upwards into the air. Obvious dilapidated structures were still half-contorted upon its surface.
He followed cautiously, skirting the fingers that bristled from the ground, avoiding their horrific presence.
"These poor souls," he muttered under his breath.
"I just wish they know what comes from this."
He quickened his pace, muttering this, never brushing against or disturbing the horrific trail of deathly spores. Keeping light-footed and fast-paced, he headed towards Aurea Reach. Or what was left of it.
When he reached the clearing by the forest edge of Aurea Reach, he was greeted by what seemed like the deflated remains of one of the foot soldiers.
He knelt down, inspecting it closer.
Drawing his dagger from its scabbard, and avoiding any direct contact, he lifted the clothes that lay amidst the scattered, necrotic remnants of flesh.
He looked up and gazed at his surroundings, searching for something. Sharpening his eyesight, he continued to scan until he saw it.
The commander's post, up top the overlooking mountain, looked empty.
He then scoured the ground with his gaze, looking for another makeshift tent. He spotted it from a great distance and started heading in its direction.
Upon arriving at the command post tent, he found distraught, exhausted, and traumatized foot soldiers lining outside.
He walked in and looked for the captain.
Spotting a visibly shaken man with an extinction symbol branded on the dorsum of his right hand, he deduced this must be the outpost's captain. He approached respectfully.
"Pardon the intrusion, but are you the captain here?" he inquired.
The captain, taking a moment, scanned him from head to toe.
He saw a tall man, perhaps 6'5 ft., with a brutish build.
Long, deep red hair, tied in a bun, framed his chiseled face, with stray strands resembling curtain bangs. A strong, defined jawline boasted dimples on both cheeks and a light stubble beard.
Piercing, deep-set light blue eyes glimmered like aquamarine.
He wore a long, white button-down shirt, its cuffs rolled above his elbows, with a formal-looking vest worn over it.
White gold bangles adorned both wrists, and a pair of black leather gloves covered his hands. Well-fitting khaki pants ran down his long, muscular legs, almost hugging their length.
A pair of daggers seemed to hang from each hip, complemented by dark brown loafers. He was covered in a slate-black cloak, its hood resting down his back.
This must be the reinforcements the runner had gathered from the nearby lord's domain, the captain thought.
"Huh? Yeah… Are you the reinforcement from the nearby lord? Glad you're here, please come with me, I need to show you something," the captain said in a breathless rush. Visibly shocked and desperate, he waved his hands at the gentleman, urging him to follow to the calamity's site.
He brushed his hair upward. Sensing the captain's confusion and wanting to introduce himself before being dragged elsewhere, he spoke.
"Yeah… Sorry about that. I'm actually an aspirant from Enmaat," he said respectfully, a hint of pity in his eyes as he stared down the visibly shaken and confused captain.
"Ah, right. Apologies. Please take a seat." The captain stopped in his tracks and returned to his table. "Can you show me some form of identification? I just need to confirm, right? You're heading to the capital?" He looked up, his sleepless, tired eyes meeting the man's gaze.
Without taking the seat he was offered, he reached for the side pocket of his vest, taking out his ID:
Identification Card
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
"Land of Renunciation - Enmaat"
First Name: Kanan
Last Name: Oratama
Place of Origin: Aegis Hold, Enmaat
Physical Description: 888 Lashes
Title: Legal Apprentice | Chancery Guard
Royal Hierarchy: Lesser Noble
───⸻⟐༒⟐⸻───
Upon seeing "888 Lashes," the captain's forehead knotted in confusion, and he looked up at Kanan.
"Young man, what are you doing here in Aurea Reach? Everything is a mess as you can see; we're trying to handle a calamity event." He looked down, deterred and dejected, as he returned the ID to Kanan.
Kanan's eyes started to droop, feeling both sorrow and a flicker of hope for the captain. "I understand what you mean. I saw the devastated land." He paused and peeked slightly outside through the small gap in the tent's entrance.
"I'm in no rush to head for the capital. How are you managing the hemogoblin?" he inquired.
The captain's gaze slowly met his, his eyes now filled with terror.
Upon hearing the word 'Hemogoblin', a name he believed was only a myth, having never encountered one during his missions across Ugarta and Kaelshara in his younger days, he wavered.
"What did you just say?"