“Unknown to truth, I was left to wander this world of uncertainty, without a soul, and without a choice.”
A deep, rhythmic beat echoed through the darkness.
My gaze drifted across the void — nothing but blackness, thick enough to feel like it pressed against my skin. The air was thin, almost absent, as if the place itself forgot how to breathe.
What is this place?
I lifted my hands. They looked washed out, pale, edges blurred under a faint glow.
Who… who am I?
I reached for anything familiar, but my mind slipped on nothingness — like a thought half-formed then torn away.
The beating sound returned. Closer now. Clearer.
A march.
A rhythm I somehow recognized… yet couldn’t place.
Far away, a light began to swell — faint at first, like mist pulling itself together. It crept forward, rolling in like a curtain pushed by a slow wind. The sound grew with it, steady as a drum buried inside the earth.
The ground trembled once… then stilled. A sudden quiet swallowed everything.
Shapes stepped out from the haze.
Men — or what seems to be — their silhouettes stretched and blurred, like ink thinned by too much water. Their faces held no detail. Just pale smears of light and shadow.
They drifted past me, weightless, passing through my body as though I wasn’t really there. Only the faint tremors beneath their steps made them feel real at all.
Then they stopped.
From behind their ranks, a ghost of a horse pushed forward. Its rider sat tall, armor catching the pale glow of the mist. He raised a long spear, holding it upright. When he reached the front, the entire field seemed to fall into a heavy, expectant hush.
Across the plain, another veil of haze thickened.
More figures stepped into view. Many more.
The rider lowered his spear, and in an instant, his mount surged forward. The soldiers followed, streaks of smoke trailing behind them.
Steel clashed.
Shields boomed.
The air shattered with screams.
It was a storm of metal and bodies — a battle unfolding as though the world itself was breaking apart.
I watched.
Still. Unmoving.
The fear I should have felt… wasn’t there. Neither sympathy nor panic. Just the sense that this wasn’t the first time I’d seen such death, such violence.
The chaos settle.
Voices faded.
Across the wasted field a single moving figure remained — the rider.
He staggered toward me, armor cracked with something like light spilling from the breaks. His steps faltered. He sank to his knees, leaning on his spear as though it were the only thing keeping him from the ground.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
His head bowed. His arms hung loose beside him.
Then the darkness behind him began to fold inward.
A sphere of light formed — small at first, then brightening, glowing like a newborn sun.
A voice followed — soft, almost gentle, otherworldly. It drifted toward me like a whisper carried on a distant wind,
“You, who stand among the dead. You, who watched the dying... What is it you seek?”
The rider said nothing.
The voice pressed on, a little sharper now,
“Speak. Tell me what you desire, and I shall reward you for this... bountiful carnage.”
Still, silence.
Then, with a note of frustration, its voice bellowed,
“Enough. Speak now, or be cast from this place of memory!”
A chill ran down my spine.
It wasn’t talking to him—but me.
“Wait... me?” I whispered. My voice barely left my lips.
“Yes, boy. I am speaking to you.”
I swallowed hard.
“I... I don’t understand. Where am I? What is this place? And... what are you?”
“What I am does not matter. This place is a fragment. A sliver of your past.”
“My past?” My heart thudded. “You know who I am?”
“In time, all will return to you. The truth will come — when it must.”
“Please,” I said, stepping forward without meaning to. “I need to know... who am I?”
The voice was quiet, almost gentle,
“Vincent.”
The name struck something deep inside me. A pulse. A weight. Like it belonged to me, and yet... I had never heard it before.
“Vincent...” I repeated. “That’s... that’s me?”
No answer.
I stepped closer to the light. “Is that really my name?”
“I have given you more than most receive. Be grateful... and go.”
“Wait — please! There’s so much I don’t know. What happened to me? Where did I come from?”
Nothing.
The light grew brighter. The sound of the battlefield vanished. The world began to dissolve around me—
I awoke slowly, my eyes heavy and unfocused. The world was a blur. My mind drifted in a haze, and I barely heard the sound of a nearby door opening.
To my left, a small table held a lit candle — its warm glow casting dancing shadows on the walls. A figure approached my bed and stood silently. I tried to focus, to see his face, but darkness took me again.
A moment passed — or maybe more.
A soft breeze caressed my face, warm and gentle. I opened my eyes once more.
To my right, an open balcony let in the sunlight. I tried to rise but collapsed back, too weak. I rested against the headboard and let my thoughts wander. The visions still lingered in my mind — unclear, but unsettling.
The door creaked open again.
A girl entered. Pale skin. Long, flowing black hair like strands of silk. She wore a modest yellow dress, a small white ribbon tied near her left ear.
“Oh! You’re awake!” she gasped. “Um, Mister…?”
“Vincent,” I said softly.
Her cheeks flushed red. She looked away, flustered.
“I’m sorry — I didn’t realize you were… um… awake.” She turned, her hair trailing behind her. “I should go tell… Uncle.”
“Wait, it’s—” But she was already gone, the door shutting behind her.
Moments later, it opened again.
A large man entered, wearing a simple white shirt and blue jumper. He had a thick black beard, curled and long, stretching from his chin.
He carried a tray — on it, a pitcher of water and a single piece of bread.
“Well now!” he boomed, his deep voice echoing through the room. “You’ve finally awakened! I was beginning to think you’d sleep forever. Some of us were already planning your funeral!”
Not the most comforting words — especially considering I might’ve been buried alive if I’d slept a bit longer.
Then he chuckled. “Relax! I’m only joking.”
Laughing, he slowly sat on a wooden chair beside my bed. He placed the plate on a small desk and turned to me.
“Your name’s Vincent, right? My niece told me.”
“Yes... Sir. If I may ask, how did I get here?”
“Don’t call me ‘Sir.’ I’m no noble — just a simple man in a simple house,” he replied with a grin. “As for you, well, the Guardsmen found you unconscious in the woods four days ago.”
“Was anyone with me?”
“No. You were alone. The guards searched half the forest — nothing but trees and shadows. But they said something strange about the place they found you.”
“What kind of strange?”
“They said the ground beneath you was blackened. All the nearby plants and trees were withered. Odd, isn’t it?”
My stomach turned.
“We even summoned a Magi last night,” he continued. “Wanted to be sure you weren’t some demon in disguise. Luckily, he said you weren’t possessed. But he did mention something… unusual.”
“Unusual?”
“He said you carry Mana. And warned us — there might be something sinister buried inside you.”
The room felt colder.
Then the man smiled and laughed again. “But you look harmless to me, boy!”
He handed me the bread. “Here. Eat something. You’ll need your strength.”
“And by the way, I’m Beltrom. Beltrom Steelborn. I run this place — Ironhill Fort — and this simple abode you’re in.”
“The girl from before is my niece. Her name is—” He paused, turning toward the door. “Hmm… I’ll let her introduce herself. Come in, Ivy.”
The door opened slowly.
The girl stepped inside, her gaze lowered, face red with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, Uncle. I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping…”
“No offense taken, young lady,” Beltrom replied. “We were just talking about you.”
Her face turned a deeper shade of red.
“You were what?! Uncle — what did you tell him?!”
“Nothing. Yet,” he whispered mischievously, laughing once more.
The girl stood near the door, fists clenched, clearly struggling not to burst. Finally, she exhaled and spoke quietly:
“My name is Ivory. Ivory Steelborn.”
