The lady opened her eyes in warmth and coziness.

  At first, she thought she was in heaven, but an agony pulsing through her nerves at the speed of light soon challenged that hypothesis. She found herself lying on a pile of clothes stacked together chaotically, and while it looked shoddy, they effectively blocked the chill emerging from the ground. Above her was the roof made of felt, supported by a wooden frame built out proficiently. As the ringing in her ears died down, she heard firewood turning into ashes alongside a thick liquid boiling, filling the area with a delicious aroma.

  She turned her head to see a campfire burning carefully at the center of the tent, lighting up the whole place by itself like a moon above the dark ocean. A single metallic pot sprouting white smoke was hanging over the fire on a wooden stand made spontaneously out of wild sticks, and next to them, a white-haired woman with a cold yet handsome face dressed in a noble and resilient outfit tightly covering her body with an extra layer of a leather jacket was nurturing the pot. On her side, a long rifle placed on top of a clean fabric was positioned perpendicularly within her immediate reach, and it was pointing at the pure white feather on the cold ground with the remnant of melted snow being visible. Only then, the lady noticed a single white wing behind the woman, gently swinging as she took a breath.

  “You are awake,” the winged woman said in a deep voice while fixing her eyes on the pot. ”Good, I wasn’t in the mood to bury a body today.”

  The lady tried to raise herself up, but an immense amount of pain forced her to stay put. Instead, she moved her dry lips and spoke in a crackling voice.

  “Where am I?”

  “Outland east of Abaskan.” The winged woman grabbed an empty bowl and filled it with the steaming soup from the pot.

  Even though the lady just heard an answer, it only brewed more questions. There was much to ask, but she was not sure where to begin. The void in her memory was vivid. She was certain that she was awake, yet everything felt like a dream she couldn’t snap out of. As her eyes got lost in her thought, the winged woman approached her with a bowl in her left hand.

  “This will hurt a bit.”

  She placed her right hand behind the lady’s back and then brought it up recklessly. As every bone in the body snapped sharply in a torturous affliction, the lady attempted to scream, but her chest collapsed from agony and instead made a hissing noise of empty air leaving the lungs through her widely opened mouth. Failing in her attempt to call for help, she bit her lip hard enough to bleed, which worked to a certain degree to diver the pain.

  “Eat up.”

  As the winged woman scooped the soup and brought it to her mouth, the lady could hardly believe what this woman just did without showing a speck of remorse. She was still deciding whether she should attempt her escape from this potentially crazed gunman, but the hunger was too much to bear. She opened her mouth and salivated at the first meal since she woke up in this world. While it was far from what was called mouthwatering flavor, the starvation made it taste like a supper that came out of heaven’s feast. The winged woman, without a single word, kept spooning the soup while the lady took it in like a baby bird eating from its mother’s mouth.

  “So,” with the bowl emptied, the winged woman broke the silence as she crossed her legs and arms while leaning her back on the chair. “What’s your deal?”

  The lady opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again with no words coming out. But when she realized that the winged woman was waiting patiently for her to speak up, she squeezed the last bit of courage she had and moved her quivering lips.

  “I don’t remember.“

  As the crackling sound of firewood burning under the boiling pot filled the air, the lady felt a gaze crawling over her skin. Yet she could not say a word of unpleasantness, as she was the one who gave the unsatisfactory answer.

  “I just opened my eyes, and I was standing in the middle of nowhere with nothing on me. But I—“

  A sudden tide of realization swept through her mind. Once she said out loud one fact that she deliberately ignored so far, the terror that was crawling on her back choked her neck from behind.

  “So what. You are a nameless nobody?“

  The winged woman spat out without deep thought, but she was on point. The lady had nothing with her. No possession, no memory, no history.

  “I need to go back.“ The lady mumbled in a quiet voice drowned in the lightless eyes, but the winged woman was keen enough to catch it.

  “Back where? Your home? You just said that you don’t remember anything.“

  The winged woman asked with suspicion, but she had some time to spare before making her decision. She glanced at her rifle behind her before scratching the idea and leaning back further in her chair to find a more comfortable posture. After all, she couldn’t feel the slightest threat from this daring lady in front of her, and if anything went wrong, she always had her pistol at the back of her waist.

  “I don’t know.“ The lady cried in a trembling voice. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to go back to. Where am I heading? What am I doing here? What was I doing? Where am I? Who am I?! I need to go back, I need to go back to that place, but where—“

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  As the torrent of panic swept her away, she felt a cracking pain in her left eye, reflecting the horror in seven different colors. The terror continued to ascend above her neck and spread across her face turning pale white, asking one question. If she died here right at this moment, would there be anyone to mourn for her? Probably yes, probably no. It was that uncertainty she feared the most. The uncertainty that she could disappear one day with no one caring. The uncertainty that she may not matter in this world.

  “Hey, focus. Look at me.” The winged woman snapped her fingers several times against the lady’s eyes. “Nothing’s going to come out if you just waver. At least you can converse in Glotholic, so you remember something, I suppose.”

  Thanks to the reassuring voice, the lady escaped the torrent of terror that swerved her, yet she appeared bewildered even further. “That’s not right,” she mumbled in a muted voice, but it was loud enough for the winged woman to hear it as well. “I can’t explain it, but I don’t think I’m supposed to know this language. It feels too foreign, but—.”

  “Is this a trick?” The winged woman tested the validity of the conversation as she interrupted the baffling statement of the daring lady.

  She met countless people in her life, some good but mostly bad. A sneaky wretch, a deluding snitch, and a back-stabbing hypocrite. All they spewed out from the bottom of their lungs was a lie, even the simple greetings if it needed to be. If there was anything that she got out of such unfortunate encounters, was that she became fond of what a deceiver looks like and how to handle them, usually involving gunfire. One trivial issue was that she did not see those characteristics in this mysterious lady. Whether she was a whole new kind of deceiver was a separate question, and the winged woman pinched between her eyes to ease a sudden migraine.

  “But this can be a lead, right? I mean, if I can speak this language, then I must be from the region where this is the mother tongue.” The lady spoke in a hopeful yet uncertain tone as she moved her eyes left and right, spewing out anything that came to her brain at the speed of it arriving there.

  The winged woman scratched the scar on her cheek as an old habit of comforting herself. “What you are speaking is a kind of universal language used throughout the land. Finding a place where people don’t use it at all would be easier.” She attempted to take another sip from her bowl, then realized that it was empty. She stood up from her chair and walked to the pot behind her, still letting out some vapors on the surface.

  “What—What about you? You look like me, except you have a wing. Does that mean we are related in some way?” The lady desperately spoke, probably too early without giving it proper thought.

  The winged woman stretched the back of her neck before answering a question. “Look, I know where you are going, but you are not a Demerii like me. You speak as if it’s a trivial issue, but all Demeriis are born with a wing. Even if it’s just one.”

  It didn’t take long for the lady to lose color in her face as she dropped her head lifelessly. The woman, who identified herself as Demerii, let out an audible sigh as she came back to the chair with a bowl of soup.

  “Your accent does sound foreign, nothing like any region I’ve visited. You look closer to Shakh Sah than a Demerii, but when I checked, there was no tail, horn or fur on your body.”

  The Demerii sat down on the chair and scooped up the soup, but stopped her hands in the air instead of bringing it to her mouth. She glanced at the lady, who was motionless with no light in her eyes. One thing she was sure of was that if nothing happened, this lady would die or lose mind in despair, just like everyone she knew with those eyes did. In reality, she couldn’t care less about the future of the stranger, but perhaps the warmth of the fire and the flavor of the soup had an influence on her; she spat out anything that came to her mind that would cheer the lost soul.

  “Speaking of Demerii, it is a well-known fact that they have a grand archive with all the knowledge bestowed on this land since the genesis. It is possible that something about you is recorded there. I mean, if you don’t recover your memory before needing such a drastic measure, that is.“

  The Demerii took a scoop of her soup, thinking maybe she shouldn’t have said the last bit.

  “The thing about Demerii is that they locked themselves on their precious island for millennia. Saying that all impure things must be kept away from the god’s perfect resemblance. What a shitshow they have, and thanks to that, getting into their land right now would be declaring war against them. It irritates me to say this, but they are not a joke to fight against.“

  After some thought, she concluded her statement as she shrugged her shoulders while looking above.

  “You know what? Forget what I said. There’s no chance you would be able to access that thing.“

  As the Demerii was about to scoop another sip from the bowl, she instead placed the spoon down and took a sip directly from the bowl. A sweetness arrived first, then turned into a sourness that lingered at the tip of her tongue, followed by a bit of bitterness scratching her throat. Not bad overall, but it was still far from the taste she had in her childhood of what her granny used to make.

  “I don’t care.”

  A sudden speech in a determined voice startled the Demerii a bit.

  “Even if it is a slim chance, I have no choice but to take it. Even if I turn the entire world into an enemy.“

  The lady who had dead eyes a few minutes ago now had a straight vision with a light glittering in her fractured pupils.

  “I must go back to where I belong.“

  The Demerii felt a chill spreading from her toes to head. A couple of days ago, she found this mysterious lady in the forest, barely alive with her breath fading away. She was certain that she would die and gave her a chance of survival as a show of good will, not hope. But now, she sits in front of her with an eye filled with resolution that was beyond simple survival.

  “Sounds like fun.“ The Demerii didn’t care to hide the excitement on her face. “But you need to focus on your recovery first. You can’t simply drag your legs to Sanctorium. We are talking about an all-out war with those high-heads above the sky.“

  The lady stared at the Demerii for four seconds before asking a question. “We? Are you coming with me?“

  “Well, my granny taught me well enough not to ignore a person in need.“ The Demerii continued with a mischievous smirk on her face. “Besides, it’s not an everyday event to meet someone who’s willing to wage a war against Demerii. And I love that idea.“

  Somehow, it was blatant that the latter reasoning was the core deciding factor. The lady chuckled at such a powerful statement.

  “Thank you, Ms. Demerii.“

  In response to that short sentence, the Demerii twitched her muscles around her eyes in irritation. “If you weren’t amnesic, I would have punched you twice right now. I have a name of my own, you know.“ She placed her hand on the back of her neck and massaged it to ease the stiffened muscles.

  “Octavia. That’s my name. And for you,“ Octavia looked down at the ground while covering her mouth with one hand for three seconds before raising her head back up.

  “I’ll just call you Foreigner for now.“