With the coming of the rains, there is a great cleansing. It washes away all that is undesirable, all that is unwanted, all that is a hindrance to the society of nature. The land relies on these rains to survive. The inhabitants rely on the rain for relief. If for one year, the clouds did not form and the rains did not fall, all would collapse into the cycle of chaos that is aroused at the brink of change. The world, as it is known, would cease to exist. Change would destroy it.

In the sixth Yera of the twelfth Aeon, only but a decade after the Holy Time Rift, the rain, however, did arrive at its usual time in the early spring and began its annual process. Beyond the northern mountains of the First Continent, in the most desolate of locations, the rains hit hard. Thrashing down upon the solitary civilization that made its home there, it violently tore apart the sanctity of its existence, soaking them in the acid of discord. Though the fight was long, brutal and painful, the land was at last cleansed as two figures, bound together by hatred and wounded by the reprimanding sky, hobbled down the mountain. Only one would return, three days later. The rains were pleased. They moved on.

The other of the two, banished from his home, would lay silent as the grave for those three endless days, bruised, burned and naked under the unfamiliar sky as it dripped down on him with forgiving waters, unbiased by the judgment of a past. He too, like the land, had been cleansed, wiped clear of all history, identity and personality. He had been gifted with the opportunity to start over, though plagued by the mystery of his own being and knew not what to do with his valuable present. By his own logic, he did not exist, he never had, and therefore he never will. There was no death, but merely no life nor drive to create one.

A wave of acceptance passed over him as he slowly began to understand his fate. The effect was calming, a relief from the harsh demands of presence. Though while the spirit let out a content sigh, something from the greatest depths of his subconscious began to riot. It started quietly and soon rose to an angry scream, denying the passage and begging for restoration. From it, there came a landslide, each part of the mind beginning to yell and squirm at the thought of dissipating until at last the acceptance was driven off and consciousness was returned and identity was given.

There was a gasping intake of breath as I immediately sat up, eyes wide with confusion. So suddenly was I thrown into being again that it was a few moments before I could silence the still lingering screams from within and take in what was around me. Absolutely nothing. The darkness hovered ominously, circling in with growing malice until from deep inside my head the images began to interpret themselves. A solid ground, dry and dusty after the long storm, sifted in between the toes and fingers that began to feel heavy with grime and languor. From the ground there began to sprout the most glorious of smells, long before their visual counterparts became clear, the smell of life, reborn life, pure in its revival after a long death. I found myself overwhelmed with the urge to arise and approach the array of trees that surrounded me, to step through their abandoned leaves, crush their brittle structures beneath my feet, and welcome them to their new lives as they had greeted me into mine. Despite the desire, my legs would not move, my arms would not budge, and the only part of me that seemed at all to live with that vigor I had imagined was the flag of rough black fur that waved about in absent cheer behind me.

A distant yell that resounded sharply through the trees reminded me to breathe as the pointed ears that rose like horns from my head tilted back in an attempt to pick up the sound again. There came another shout, lower than the other, flowing on an entirely different wavelength and then a repetition of the first. No recognizable words came from the noises, though a sense of distance became apparent as one moved considerably closer while the other faded away. For some time the banter continued between the two sources until at last an understandable thought came through.

"Hold on, we didn't check over here yet," came the voice, flanked by clomping footsteps through the cracking leaves. A large portion of me wanted to get up and run, escape the approaching individual, what ever it may be, but I was still paralyzed, paused in this awoken state and unable to grasp onto the entirety of motion. As it came closer, the need to flee increased, though strangely no fear crossed through my mind. The feeling was instinctual, the conscious being indifferent and as the distance between us shortened, consciousness got the better of me as I silently gazed up at the figure that now stood not three meters away, contrastingly staring down with confused wonder. As though to blend in with the scorched bark that formed broken walls all around him, he had clothed himself entirely in blends of black and brown, loose and ragged garments that entirely covered him from shoulder to foot, even wrapping themselves around the wrists and encircling the palms while the fingers lay bare. The scraggly brown locks that shone dully in the low afternoon light, thick with grease, were tied back messily behind his neck with little care apparent. However, no tail hung from his spine nor prominent ears arose from his head and my subconscious wrapped around the concept: difference. After a long moment of silence as his brown eyes stared intensely into mine, a frown severed the line of sight and he turned briefly in the direction he had come. After a long inhalation, he let out a call to his companion, "Hey, Jarvis, get over here, I think I found something."

There passed another long time of awkward silence until at last another set of stomping feet became audible, ever approaching our secluded tree fort. "What is it?" came the higher pitched voice irritably, almost tripping upon a stray branch as he stumbled into the area. The second arrival seemed much like a clone of the first, dressed in the same style, and stood in the same stature, though considerably less in height. Although his features vaguely stood out to me, his lack of them seemed far more prominent as he, like his friend, was without my own seemingly misplaced appendages. A wave of doubt flooded through my veins while the two allies watched me closely, but still I could not bring myself to shift.

"What do we do with it?" the first who had arrived asked the other one in a hushed tone, casting a sideways glance at him.

"Same thing we did with the rest?" suggested the other with a hopeless shrug, only to receive a look of incredulity. "I'm sure Trina could handle it."

"I guess...but...is it really..." began the other, gradually quieting his voice. "Safe?"

As the two strangers discussed my fate, I could hardly help but reflect on the irony of immediately being taken control of at the dawn of my new life. It was that thought that led to a strange feeling of defiance and indignancy which turned out to be the exact recipe for finally coming to my feet. Once standing, it became apparent that of the three of us, I was not only different in shape entirely, but also much younger and consequently, smaller. I concluded that the taller must have been some five or six Aeons my elder, while the other perhaps less, though the most disturbing realization was that were there to arise a conflict, I would probably not be on the victorious side. Therefore I was presented with two options, neither of which were all that appealing. The first would be to run when they were glancing elsewhere and risk what ever potential danger that may entail. The second would be to simply lay my life in their hands, where they clearly planned on taking it, and hope for the best.

With a decided frown, I approached the two as they discussed and stood defiantly before them as they looked down upon me with cautious expressions. The elder made a disgruntled grimace and, as though it pained him greatly to address me, asked, "Do you speak Kayronic?"

Although the words that emerged from his mouth registered, none seemed ready to form from mine. The obvious answer would be yes, though the ability to communicate it was absent and thus the correct one would be no.

"I guess that's a no," he concluded after the drawn out silence as he turned to his friend with a look of helplessness. The only response he received was a vague look of equal confusion and so he planted a frown upon his face and looked down at me decisively. "Well I guess we'll just have to take it back to Trina then," was the simple declaration, beginning in a confident tone and gradually shifting into a less than doubtful one. His companion shot him a glance of absent agreement and, with much graciousness, set off in the direction he'd come. The remaining watched me cautiously, let out a sigh and made a few overdramatic gestures indicating his wish that I follow.

Feeling particularly displeased with the turn of events, I hesitated before complying, oddly amused as he proceeded to melodramatically demonstrate his planned outcome. However, the amusement quickly faded as he became impatient and attempted to forcibly push me in the desired direction and I found myself overcome with the remarkable urge to sink my teeth into his hand. Though I ignored the thought, no pardon could stop the low growl that inadvertently rose in my throat which promptly removed him from my personal space. Satisfied with the assertion of power, I finally did as I was told and ambled after his friend into the trees, unsure of what for, but unwilling to protest.

The journey that followed was long, dull and surprisingly informative. While all that passed were brush and roots, the initial trees gradually growing more scarce as time went on, the elder of my escorts, whose name I had come to recognize as Talany, abandoned his post trailing behind me and rejoined the leader, engaging him in a loud conversation that carried itself back to my overly sensitive ears. In between the unimportant droll that constituted the majority of the subject matter, an attentive portion of my mind extracted generic information that had previously been somewhat of a mystery. Moreover, from the analysis of these extractions, it became apparent that while I remembered nothing of my own history, a common database of general facts still existed and was entirely accessible inside my head. Much of the piecing together required the use of said facts, reminding me of their contents, as though entirely relearning history.

Through various references to both Kayronic speech and the Kayronic System, for example, it became obvious that the nation whose soil I now stood upon was the Neutralist Republic of Kayron, notorious for its isolationist nature and general stance towards personal freedom. Of the three supercontinents that circled our globe, Kayron took up the majority of the Northern Hemisphere's Argos landmass, consuming the entire northern and western coasts, leaving the massive peninsula that stretched eastward to an array of smaller, concentrated monarchistic and plutocratic societies that were in constant feud with one another. Thus the eastern border of Kayron was perpetually plagued with the riots and refugees of its two closest neighbors, inspiring the construction of what was to be dubbed the Dreva Divide, a massive wall that stretched across the entire border, preventing the uncontrolled fleeing from escalating further. It had been in construction for many Aeons and seemed nowhere near completion, a drain on the Kayronic economy that perhaps was not worth the trouble it caused. Despite that, the proposed resolutions to cancel the construction that were laid out each Aeon following were constantly shot down by the voice of the people. During that time, however, even more flooded across into Kayronic territory, resulting in massive retaliation from the natives as well as uprisings among the newcomers against each other. The result was not only the unstable economy from the doubled efforts to prevent the problem, but also an unstable society, split into various segregated groups. Somehow, through it all, however, no official war had broken out nor legislation enacted that discriminated against any of the majorly unwanted visitors, earning Kayron its status as the world's home of peace and acceptance. The latter description seemed a comfort to my restlessly wandering mind for if I was what I assumed I indeed was, different, perhaps here, the effect of being so would be sufficiently sedated if not entirely erased.

Caught up in personal pride and egotism at my extensive knowledge of national history and politics (a somewhat unlikely subject for one such as me to reflect upon), the remainder of the two's conversation passed by me, but for one topic that revived me from my secluded thoughts entirely. The area in which I had been found had, not three days previous, been the site of a massive bombing riot among the border hoppers, the tensions between them finally having exploded in a more than figurative sense. In response to the devastating event, what ever group my escorts belonged to, a seemingly social work related program, had taken it upon themselves to search the site for any, like myself, who appeared to need help. Where it was that they were taking me remained unclear though I could only assume it would be a place of refuge and not any more impending danger.

We walked for what seemed like days though only amounted to two long hours as my feet grew weary and the evening increasingly dark and cold. An unintentional sigh of great relief passed my lips as at last the two leaders seemed to pick a destination. It had begun with a wall, towering above us, a sturdy stone mass covered in the moss and vines that came with age. Shoddy turrets crowned its peak, taking on the costume of a fortress of days long passed, before the modern wartime when stone was enough to separate one from their enemies. Running parallel to our path, the structure seemed to stretch for vast miles until no longer was there five meters of solid rock to my left, but instead, a pair of massive wooden gates, wide open in welcome to the tired traveller who may wish to enter the inner workings of the castle itself.

For a long moment I stood in complete stillness, somewhat taken aback by the interior of the derelict structure. Beyond the rotting wood and vine encrusted stone stood the intricacies of a fully developed city. Small outer buildings gave way to winding stairs leading to higher towers, massive halls that mimicked the great architecture that lined the sacred cities of ancient times, great gates of impenetrable substance and the most important aspect of the scape, reviving it from its dismal stone presence, the population, going about their way, numb with age to the ultimate fascination I found here. I had never been witness to such an urban existence although those existing within it would hardly call it such. What ever category it fell into among the vague settlement descriptions, the collection of compacted complexes and their consequential civilization fell beyond my level of understanding at the time, exposed only to a few hours of desolate life following a few shady characters towards this eventual destination. Ignoring the rude prodding I was given to keep walking by my escorts, a tiny smile twisted itself onto my face as I found myself incredibly pleased at the outcome of my very first decision in my short history. Only a little doubt leaked into my mind as the effects of my earlier revelation regarding my obvious external differences to the average populace became a little more clear. Stares and frowns of mixed confusion and disgust from almost every face I passed dug deep into my developing psyche, an early sign of what would continue to follow me wherever I went. Even my companions seemed a little embarrassed to be chaperoning me about in public. Their grief was cut short however as they quite quickly redirected me into a lengthy flat building not far down that first street.

Into Despair. The change in atmosphere was apparent instantly. While outside had been slightly awkward, it still clung on to the initial cheer and good humor that had been dominant before I arrived. Inside, however, was reminiscent of a nightmare.

I think it was the smell that hit me first as the nose did seem to be my most forward of senses. Even with its enhanced sensitivity, I'm sure anyone would have been drowned by that stench. It reeked of the three most nefarious scents combined into one massive overflow of disgust: blood, feces and flesh. Burnt flesh no less. The smell, however, was not at all out of place as I surveyed the long hall, vast as it was and filled to the brim with the wounded, dead and otherwise of the recent genocide just south of here. Crammed onto every available temp cot in every available space, they lay bleeding and burning and screaming. That screaming never would fade from my ears, piercing with a complete, encircling agony that can only be felt by those who were soon to feel nothing at all. Overall, the entire room was a perfect archetype of misery, confined in the thoroughly dirtied and disgraced space that, for all its vastness, still should not have reasonably held even half of these depressing souls.

Obviously my first reaction was to turn and run and this time, my instincts were precise in their output as, suddenly overwhelmed with a strange and horrified jitter, I slowly took a few steps backwards in attempt to escape. Before I managed to clear the door and hide around the corner as I had originally planned, Talany seized my arm and flung me back inside with a threatening mutter of "Don't you dare..." He and his friend shared an unspoken conversation of looks and eventually the younger, with an air of relief and forced carelessness, left. After he'd gone, Talany offered another forceful push at which I hopelessly tried to resist until his sheer size advantage won as he thrust me onto the thin winding path that led through the crowded room.

Navigating the sea of despair was not an entirely easy task as my first inclination was to close my eyes and plug my ears, but it seemed that by cutting off both predominantly navigational senses, I was far more likely to run into the very thing I was trying to avoid and thus I compromised by plugging my ears and slightly squinting my eyes instead so that I could still find my way, but everything was vaguely blurry so that I did not have to witness the full intensity of the gore.

In all reality, I had no idea where I was supposed to be heading and just kept following my feet deeper into the dank and dingy depths of the infirmary. Talany trailed behind me, but never gave any hint of purpose or direction. Plunged into the bowels of the hall, however, I figured it out myself. Again, it was the smell that hit me first. From out of the wretched stink that hung heavily in all the space around me, there suddenly arose the tiniest whiff of what surely, at the time and in comparison to the only other smell around, must have been the sweetest scent ever to reach my nose. Subconsciously, I found my feet being drawn to it and nobody made any move to stop me. The closer it came, the more significantly hopeful it was, appearing to be a beacon of alleviation from the utter terror and destruction that permeated my skin. This glorious presence washed over everything lucky enough to be within its proximity, cleansing it entirely. I, however, was surely lucky enough, but clearly, not at all worthy as, in my wave of ecstasy, I had failed to judge the elements of space and soon found myself, in an act of pure sacrilege to its holiness, ramming into the very source of the illumination.

"Oh goodness, I'm so sorry, are you alright?" she apologized hurriedly, grabbing my arms to hold the both of us steady and prevent any further disgrace. Once the temporary disillusionment passed, I found myself staring up at someone whom, had I awoken beside her instead of on my own, I would have taken for my mother. Of course, due to age conflictions and the interesting fact that humans cannot birth children at 7, that would have been a complete misjudgment, but she had a mother's face, calm, concerned and kind. In a room full of yelling, dying people, it was no wonder that her appearance marked a breath of fresh air.

She continued to stare down at me, looking extremely worried until Talany quite rudely interrupted our encounter with a blunt statement that sounded something like, "Don't bother, he doesn't speak Kayronic."

Despite this, her eyes lingered on me for a while longer before they traveled up to him as though she had just noticed he was there at all. She considered what he'd said discerningly before finally, to my great pleasure as I seemed to enjoy the calming effect of her beautifully brown eyes, looking back down at me. This time, however, her expression turned to one of light shock, obviously at the long tail that was now wagging cheerfully behind me, causing it to sink. "My word, you really aren't from around here, are you?" she whispered in astonishment, though not in the disgusted or frightened manner that those outside had directed at me, but in genuine awe. "No worries," she cooed softly, seeming to resist the urge of patting me on the head, "I'll have you fixed up in no time at all."

Up until that particular time, I hadn't been aware that there was anything that needed fixing. It was only when she gestured to somewhat nasty burns and bruises that ran up my arms and what was visible of my legs that they started to hurt. It was an odd revelation for also previously, I hadn't truly believed that I had been involved in any riot or even the victim of one, not simply because I couldn't recall it, but because it instinctually didn't feel right. Now, however, all signs pointed to the idea that I had which struck a chord of discontent somewhere deep inside me.

"I don't think he's really top priority, Trina" Talany protested, trying very hard not to actually look at the mass of severe cases he indicated to stress the point.

"The sooner the not so serious cases are taken care of, the sooner we'll have more space for the rest so that we can actually get this place back to sanitary standards," she explained to him with a brisk no-nonsense tone as she carefully took my hand and led me away through the maze which seemed far less atrocious now that she was my guide through it. Talany, reluctantly, wishing that he could leave without breaking natural obligation, followed.

I was eventually placed on a small stool between the bed of a slumbering old woman and that of a man who seemed to be missing a few limbs and decided to spend most of his time glaring at me with absent eyes near a blood-stained wall. High above my head, I could hear the ticking of a large, metallic clock, the only image of cleanliness left in the defiled confines. Although I couldn't see it, the casual tick-tock that it emitted seemed to fuse naturally into my mind and, as my savior walked off to gather some supplies, I found myself completely in tune with it which, in her absence, managed to keep me in that pleasantly content state.

All the while, Talany stood moodily out of the way as best he could while various individuals, nurses, doctors, patients pushed past him, constantly ruining his cool, relaxed attitude. It was even more thrown off when Trina returned and thrust a roll of bandages into his hand. Trailing her was an older man, his skin dark and withered with age and too much exposure to the sun.

"Since you're just going to stand around, you might as well make yourself useful," she told Talany abruptly with an air of complete separation before she turned to the old man and, with a gentle smile, asked, "Could you ask him what his name is?"

He nodded calmly and, turning to me, spouted off a phrase of bizarre, unfamiliar sounds, coarse and sharp in a high-pitched and yet subtle tone. Obviously my confusion was solidified on my face as he turned back to her and informed her simply, "I do not think he speaks Ezran."

Trina regarded me with a look of perplex and pity, causing my subconscious to cringe. "Where could you possibly have come from then?" she questioned, rhetorically of course, seeming rather discouraged by my inability to communicate with anybody at all. Out of ideas, she sighed, bid the old man farewell and went to work cleaning the burns on my left arm.

Saddened by her discontent, I found myself urged to attempt the very thing I seemed unable to do and, to my surprise, quite audibly, I said, "I wish I knew." Or at least I thought that's what I said. By the look of surprised confusion she gave me, obviously that wasn't exactly what came out. And so I continued to try, with a hopefully doubtful smirk, "Can you even understand me?"

It was, however, in vain as she continued to stare with wide-eyed wonder at me as though I was juggling tables. Even Talany was breaking his stoic expression for one of reluctant interest. I didn't find it as fascinating as they did. What ever I was trying to say, it was coming out as something else which, from one who couldn't hear the real output, was a slightly disturbing concept.

"That's Caelict," she muttered quietly at last, after a long moment of awkward silence between the three of us that made me long for a casual icebreaker that they would actually comprehend. "At least I think it is. It certainly sounds like it."

"The ancient language?" Talany said with a lilting mocking laugh intertwined and went on sarcastically, "Yeah right. The whole world has forgotten how to use it. But this random kid we find beaten up in the middle of a ground zero can speak it fluently. I'll believe that as soon as the Gods descend down upon the earth and tell us all that they were just kidding about that whole war thing. Oops, sorry."

I could tell from her expression that Trina had every desire to shoot him a vicious glare to put him in his place, but for what ever reason, she decided to just ignore him and squint discerningly at me. Finally, she sighed and shook her head. "Shame that I don't speak it," she remarked with visible disappointment before smiling encouragingly. "But don't you worry, we'll find somebody who does. Because I know how nice it is to have somebody understand you."

Though the last part of her statement completely went over my head as it was clearly an allusion to what ever personal turmoil she was experiencing at the time of which I knew nothing, I smiled back cheerfully and nodded, causing her, halfway in the middle of opening a tube of disinfectant, to double-take. Raising one brow thoughtfully with analytical eyes, she asked slowly, "You understand me?" Again, I nodded, pleased that at last someone had decided to pick up on this fact. This seemed to send her into a brief bout of fluster as, now equipped with the power to extract any and all information from me she pleased, it was time to decide on what exactly was most important and relevant to this particular sliver of time. To be entirely honest, I don't believe her final choice made a good impression of her priorities. "Well...what's your name?" she spurted at last.

My first instinct was to open my mouth and reply cheerfully as it was clearly what she wanted and I would be quite willing to provide her with such. The cheerful atmosphere faded though as it dawned upon me that I did not know the answer to the question at all. Not wanting to appear rude, I tried to communicate such to her with a disheveled expression and a lopsided shrug. Uncoordinated as it was, the gesture delivered the point effectively as Trina's mouth drooped slightly as well and her eyes creased as she muttered, "You don't know...?" My reply didn't require spoken word to convey. "Can you not remember?" Again, I shook my head obediently, causing her to go on with, "Can you remember anything?" which received the same response. At last satisfied with a relative comprehension of my circumstance, she sighed and whispered, "Oh dear..."

"Not all that surprising though, is it?" Talany put in coldly, having returned to his facade of not caring enough to pay attention while he intently listened in to the entire one-sided conversation. "Who knows what kind of toxic junk they put in those explosives? Something in it is bound to mess with your head."

She continued to determinedly ignore him which more than slightly disgruntled his attitude even more. After a long extension of her expression of pitiful concern, she at last plastered on a hopeful smile and told me kindly, "Well that's not a problem. We'll think of something to call you while you get your senses back. But for now," she stuck out her hand invitingly and I found myself obligated to take it carefully and be submitted to a somewhat violent shaking of us both, "my name is Meditrina, I will be your doctor for today and I am very pleased to tell you that you couldn't have come to a better place." And with that statement made, she kneeled abruptly in front of me, hastily tied back her messy brown hair and went to work wrapping the majority of my limbs in cloth for some medical reason I don't comprehend.

It was soon decided that I would, for the time being, make a place for myself in this artificial city in which my acquaintances made their homes. Meditrina had finished 'fixing' me, as she so called it and was talking excitedly about getting me in touch for a variety of names that seemed to have little connotations to them on their own, though I must commend her for her sudden interest in my predicament and thank her greatly for caring. What she had forgotten was that there was an entire room full of people who needed her attention far more than I which she was reminded of quite harshly and loudly by a passing superior at which point she made the decision to send me off with Talany and hope that he would, as she so delicately put it, 'take enough responsibility, for once, to be able to handle the incredibly difficult task' of returning me to her the following morning in hopes that the small infirmary would have a greater supply of hands by then to spare hers for a few hours. I was not thrilled with the idea. Talany was even less so. To my surprise, his foul mood was not, in fact, due to my imposition on his open space for 'roommate', but to the manner in which the duty was given which was the subject on which he decided to vent his anger as he stalked off down the street and I hurried to keep up with him.

"I don't understand what her problem is," he expressed furiously, his pace matching the intensity of his mood. "She says 'put it behind us' and 'move on' and I do! But does she?" At this point, he turned abruptly to glare back at me as though the entire unspecified ordeal were my fault. "No! Of course she doesn't because she doesn't know how. And I'm the one who takes the blame." At some point during this monologue, he'd stopped the progressive motion forward to wherever our destination happened to be and, in unison, I too had paused. "What are you doing?" he snapped suddenly, shifting his general anger to be expressed directly at the innocent. "Don't just stand there. I've got better things to be doing than taking care of some geltie" (this being the derogatory term for foreigners) "so if you get lost, I'm not going to come looking for you."

Rolling my eyes and growing increasingly weary of his company as well, nevertheless I caught up to him as the journey resumed. He went on to whine about a variety of insignificant passer-by that had, sometime in history, bothered him in some way, occasionally referencing back to the root of his problem, only to shoot it down again and replace her with the nearest unsuspecting victim he could find. I, on the other hand, under the impression that none of this soliloquy had any importance to me, paid particular attention to the goings-on of my temporary homestead. All in all, it was simply a town, but on a smaller scale. The streets were narrower, the buildings shorter, even the people were on the lower end of things, being mostly composed of youth in ranges from the small child to the angsty young adult that now lead me through them. The existence of such a place seemed remarkably odd. Though it resembled the genuine article in imitation, there was a sense of falseness to it as though, instead of naturally culminating, as the usual conglomeration of civilization did, it had been specifically built all at once to house the exact individuals who now called it home. As we passed the humble shops, the artisans' workshops and the farmers who lead their horses and their rickety carts of crops down the dusty road, the oddity suddenly dawned on me. While business was in abundance, there were no residences. Obviously, they must exist somewhere as I was presumably being taken to one, but they were entirely separate from the rest of the town which only heightened my suspicion of the place. It seemed like a strange utopia where no one worked where they played, charity and community service took a primary position on priorities and anyone above a certain age was banished.

To someone who knew very little to begin with to then see the small amount of society he thought he did know thrown into disarray, it was all very frightening. A few times I even considered turning around and heading back towards those big wooden gates and fleeing to a more familiar environment. It wasn't as though anyone would care to stop me nor notice I was gone, but every time I was about to act upon the idea, I got a surge of instinct that told me to stay. Despite the bizarre atmosphere, nothing or nobody had given me reason enough to think that it was truly a dangerous or distasteful place. In fact, out of the three people I had encountered from it, one of them was incredibly kind. The other two were tolerable, but I would blame that on their personal inhibitions and not their natural habitat. Aside from that, I had nowhere else to go and perhaps there was a logical explanation for the negative aspects that I had observed. Nobody had of yet taken the time to explain to me where I was. So, in the end, with no reasons to do otherwise, I continued to follow Talany into the bowels of the complex until we came to the centre.

It's status was obvious due to the largely increased concentration of people that frequented the large grassy area flanked on either side by two of the most massive halls within the entire perimeter. Here, the sense of community really hit its peak. I found the intensity of the common stares subsiding a bit as we traipsed through the square with heightened hurry for some unknown reason. As we passed the tall white stone statue that towered over the groups of people that lingered in its shadow, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of dislike for the nobly posing man, his hands held aloft in glorious welcome and his face twisted into an expression of stern pleasure.

In my brief revelation and distraction by the enlarged replica of the mysterious man, it seemed I'd fallen behind. As I turned back to my original direction, I found the space in front of me no longer occupied by the familiar backside of Talany, but instead a group of chattering girls, all considerably taller than me, staring down with the wide, amused eyes that female kind save only for babies and puppies. Perhaps I was, to them, a mix of both. Taken aback by their sudden appearance and the incessant cooing and awing, I hastily redirected my course around them and attempted to regain the path I'd misplaced.

To what surprised me as great relief, a rough hand seized my arm and dragged me back onto it as Talany snapped moodily, "What are you doing?! I told you not to get lost." Though I was thankful that he had managed to find me again, I was quite disconcerted by the fact that he was obviously going to be dragging me with my shoulder at an awkward an uncomfortable angle for the rest of the way.

Conveniently, the rest of said journey was conspicuously short as, once past the swollen quad, we slipped through a small, narrow pathway and arrived at a large enclosing arc that stood firmly over a tunnel of stairs leading downward. Made entirely of brick, the arch loomed over the humble street with an ancient and overpowering presence, making it difficult for me to take to the stairs it housed as lightly as Talany did. Unfortunately, I really wasn't given much of a choice in the matter as I was dragged, stumblingly onto the descending steps and on down the dimly lit tunnel towards the light at the end. This is, of course, bearing no symbolism to death and I sincerely apologize if that's what you interpret it as. Instead of ultimate doom awaiting at that brink of glowing wonder, a great room unfolded, circular in shape, wide in diameter and possessing a ceiling that's acoustics could rival even the most prestigious of Mizadan temples. Though at this particular time, the casual lounging atmosphere of the central underground hub was rather pitifully deserted, it held even then the hints of being the most populated area of compound living as I soon found out. Branching out from it were a total of five additional tunnels to the one we'd arrived from, each as black and as dimly lit as the first (for electricity, at the time, a relatively new concept, was far too elitist for such a financially struggling establishment). It was down the middle of these that I soon found myself being hauled unwillingly as I desperately tried to observe the far more interesting goings on of the main section. The interest of this tunnel was far less in multitude. Flickering lanterns hung from the low, solid stone ceiling at far too distant intervals, barely illuminating the equally spaced doors on either side, each branded with their own symbol (things I later discerned were in fact numbers, as reading Kayronic script of any kind at that time was completely out of the question). At last, Talany seemed to pick one of the obscure doors, stopping before it and thrusting me out of the way so that he could fiddle with some keys to get it open. After an awkward series of failures, he at last managed to push open the wooden barricade dramatically, causing it to slam loudly on the wall beside it, revealing the war zone that laid within. There were, in fact, two shabby beds of the most economical quality, though at first glance one would only assume there to be one. The most visible of these was, to put it as delicately as possible, filthy. The other was engulfed in the wave of stray clothing, books, trash and other miscellaneous items, among which was what seemed to be the remains of a long destroyed portable oven, complete with uneaten leftovers that flooded the entirety of the floor save a single, clear path to the aforementioned sleeping furniture.

"It's a bit of a mess," Talany stated obviously, no hint of apology or remorse in his voice, clearly knowledgeable to the appalled expression that his, and now my, living space caused. To remedy this, he shuffled over to the secondary bed and with one great sweeping motion, sent all of its captors tumbling to the ground by its side. As a somewhat second thought, he kicked the oven and a crusty pile of ancient magazines out of the way to produce a route equal to his own to the now vacant, but nonetheless stained, tarred and utterly soiled place in which I was supposed to make my home. "There ya go," he muttered uncaringly, raising his brows as though daring me to challenge his lifestyle. When I remained silent, he smirked victoriously, apparently having forgotten that I could not have voiced a complaint even if I had wanted to, and declared, "Make yourself at home I guess. I'll be back late if you care." He began to exit through the door before pausing momentarily, looking back at me and adding cynically, "And don't touch anything," before shutting the door abruptly behind him.

It took me another five minutes to overcome the still initial shock that the sight had instilled in me. Once I finally had, I carefully made my way to my bed and examined it closely. I assumed the sheets had originally been a generic off-white, pleasantly bland and of very little to no value. They were no longer anything resembling white. The majority was yellow, but near the end there was a large splotch of something that resembled the remains of vomit, near the top there seemed to be a large splattering of expired jam and directly in the center was something I had no clue nor desire to know what it was. Sickened almost to the point of adding to its unsanitary nature, I decided it best to simply remove the whole thing to find that, thankfully, the bedraggled straw mattress underneath was, if nothing else, clean.

Having settled that most pressing matter, I found myself unwilling to actually go to sleep as it was, by some precise clock inside my head, only 6:43 in the evening. Not thrilled about staying where I was, I decided to venture off and explore, regardless of the high likelihood of a) getting lost; b) needing but being unable to ask for directions; c) being unable to get back into the room I now occupied; d) all of the above. What can I say? I'm a risk taker.

As I stumbled back out into the dark hallway and heard the lock of the door behind me click back into place, I felt the tiniest twinge of regret and then, quite soon after, the realization that I, at this point in time, really didn't care. By my count, I had only been alive for a total of four hours and twenty three minutes and in that brief time, I had been swept up into some strange civilization and everything I had done had been ordered by someone other than myself. As of yet, I had had no opportunity to make my own choice in anything regarding my own life and it was about time to do so. And if that decision happened to be getting lost and locked out of where they had deemed me to be, then so be it, that was their issue, not mine.

And so was my reasoning as I wandered confidently down that hallway, alone for the first time since my awakening and, though truly scared out of my mind, enjoying it nonetheless. I made my way back towards the exciting light of the hub to find it gradually growing more crowded, a sight which instantly restored all of my inhibitions. It was the stares that did it first. The moment I felt those eyes upon me, I wanted to turn back to hover in the friendly darkness to hide my oddity whilst I awaited my roommates 'late' return. I was about to do just this, standing poised to flee in the center of what seemed to be a well-lit stage, when I felt them briskly turn away. I didn't actually recognize the reason until it waved its hand directly in front of my face and greeted me cheerfully, "Hello there!"

I struggled briefly to focus on the young girl that now stood before me, smiling with the grin of one who'd taken far too much pain medication in the past hour (though whether this was true or not is still beyond me). I wasn't sure how I'd failed to notice her previously as she had in fact been there for quite some time, glaring at all those that had glued their eyes suspiciously to me until they promptly took them back again. What sparked this act of kindness was, to me, irrelevant, and I greatly wished to thank her for it which, stupidly, I tried to do. Her eyes widened and her grin faltered slightly before she let out a nervous laugh and muttered, "Oh dear, you don't speak Kayronic, do you..."

Although it was more of a disconcerted statement, than a question, I shook my head diligently in reply which lit her up once more. "But you can understand it?" she inquired with new hope in her eyes. I nodded obediently, causing her to emit an excited 'squee' that both frightened and pained me. "Fantastic!" she declared happily, clapping her hands together and grinning at me. In a blatant attempt to hijack me, she claimed my arm her own, dragged me to one of the classily simple circular tables scattered about one area of the room and forced me into a chair. Despite this being a direct assault on my plan of carrying out my individual freedom, I found myself content to be controlled once more as, in complete honesty, the endless of oblivion of chance had frightened me near to death.

Once suitably appropriated in a chair across from me, the girl turned her obsessively happy eyes back towards me and held it out in what was obviously the gesture associated with introduction here. "I'm Andariel, but call me Andy, " she declared joyously as I played along politely. "Unofficial welcoming committee to the Daoren Institute of Vocational Learning." (It was only recently that I interpreted this name as actually 'vocational' and not 'vacational') "So welcome!" There was an awkward silence following this, giving me time to analyze the strangely hyperactive character. If I hadn't been sitting right across from her, but rather observing from across a room, I might have mistaken her for being male. Though her pale blonde hair was, I assumed, long, it was tied back messily in such a manner that made it appear far shorter and less feminine than such features should be. Beyond that, she was dressed entirely in male clothing. Obviously she either just liked our style or perhaps thought she had been born of the incorrect gender entirely. I didn't ask. But as the silence began to bother me ever so slightly, I decided to try and move it along. Unable to think of anything else to do, waved a hand at her. She waved cheerfully back and inquired, "Do you have a name?"

Although I was sure this wasn't the answer she wanted, I shook my head, causing her to tilt her head and frown as though she was thinking this through very deeply. "Oh well," she decided at last and resumed her incessant smile. "Well is there anything you'd like to know about the Institute? I'm a fountain of knowledge for your usage!" she claimed proudly, causing a look of blunt skepticism to form on my face. Her smiled faded and she asked hopelessly, "Nothing?"

In truth, I was very interested in understanding where I was as no one had yet bothered to explain it to me. My cynicism was whether such knowledge could be acquired from such a person who hardly appeared older than myself. I had to admit however, she did seem eager enough to share her proclaimed fountain of wisdom so it was my natural inclination to give her what she wanted. In an attempt to communicate this, I vaguely waved my hand in what I thought was a fairly accurate gesture for 'go on'.

She stared at me strangely for a long moment before realization dawned in her eyes and she nodded and grinned once more. "Great!" she declared excitedly, repositioning herself in her chair as though this would require a significant deal of time. In addition, she rearranged her expression into the serious attitude that she believed this topic would require. And paused. Dramatically. Before she recited in perfect, museum-quality rhetoric, "The Institute was founded in the year 3000 by Bernyrd Daoren, just 50 Yeran following the Holy Time Rift. The concept was developed as a potential remedy to the immediate strife that came after the Rift. Daoren, a professor of humanities at Geneive University, was appalled at the effects the rioting was having upon the economic and social existence of the everyday citizen. While the Mizadan crusaders were storming and raiding the cities of every Mainyuri and Neutralis nation in the world, trying to hail the sudden shift in timespace as the retribution of Tahit for their sins, innocents were being left stranded and homeless on the violent streets to fight for their life. Among these 2.3 million victims, half were under the age of eighteen and three quarters of those had been orphaned by the hostilities. Daoren, having been born to a wealthy family and gifted with the opportunity to pursue his education and obtain accomplishments in his life, always had felt the desire to help others do the same, thus his career in teaching. When he learned of these atrocious numbers, he saw an entire class of people that he had never considered, now completely unable to rise up into the world. He decided to take his goal to a new level.

"In 2072, Daoren got the funding for a charity institute from the Kayronic government along with pledges from various anonymous donaters who are supposed to still provide funds to this day. The thirty nine square kilometer complex was to serve as a school of sorts for underprivileged and orphan children from across the globe, teaching them not only in the academic fields, but also practical skills for what ever working field they should choose to pursue. It would provide full food and shelter services for those that required it, all at no cost whatsoever. The pricey project took twenty two Yeran to complete, until it was at last unveiled on Jenuer 1st, 3000, a purposeful symbol of ushering in an entirely new era.

"The Institute did not fare as well as expected at first, bringing in many locals, eager for free schooling whether needed or not, but very few else. However, when the War began in 4156 and the first flood of refugees appeared on Kayron's horizon, the Institute was finally put to its intended use and at full flex. Since, it has only expanded more, bringing in more students and putting out thousands of successful cases. Now, an Institute diploma virtually serves as a key into any profession its holder may desire. As such an asset to Kayronic economy, it still receives massive government grants each year along with ever increasing private donors. The Daoren Institute of Vocational Learning is located just ten kilometers west of Syrin County."

As interesting as her tale was, the thrown in ending cast me a bit of confusion, to which she quickly explained, in her more natural high-pitched chirping, "Directly out of the 10435 edition of The Kayronic Historical Manual," to which I nodded with vague understanding, but, of course, remained silent, prompting her to add, "I memorized it," only earning her an even blanker stare.

It was, however, like I said, interesting. By the sounds of it, Meditrina had indeed been right when she had said I'd come to the right place. I hadn't been alive long, but already, I was turning out to be an oddly lucky person. It pleased me greatly.

"So you must be really new," she began, dragging me out of my internal thoughts, "because I've never seen you before. And I know practically everyone in the dorms. Just get in today?" I reluctantly nodded and her eyes crinkled as they fell to the bandages wrapped around tightly around every extremity. "Caught in the bombing then?" Again, I nodded, even though I still wasn't entirely convinced of this. I thought it better to simply assume than get into the whole memory ordeal once more. She visibly cringed and shook her head sadly before voicing what must be the most common question of peace every invented, "Why can't we all just get along?"

Again, there was an awkward pause before she turned her eyes back on me with a glint of cunning. "Speaking of getting along...Do You mind if I ask you a personal question?" I shrugged, having no thoughts in the matter as I probably couldn't answer anyway. "What...exactly...are You?" It was just the question I'd been anticipating ever since I'd arrived. Everyone who saw me wanted to ask it. They all wondered, somewhere in their minds, what kind of disturbing, incestual, sodomitic background my family had that had actually turned their offspring partially animal. Heck, even I wondered it, though, somewhere in my head, I knew it was more natural than that. It at least felt more natural. No one, however, had had the guts to ask it, as much as they may have wanted to. Until her. A fact which shocked a few of our neighbors who glanced nervously from me to her repetitively as though sure a vicious fight would erupt any moment.

I never have been one for political correctness. I was surprisingly glad that she had asked. I was slightly disappointed that all I could offer in reply was another shrug. But there's nothing that can be done about that. At least now the subject had been addressed and not simply left to fester in the dark. Sure, it hadn't been answered or theorized or at all reflected upon, but the very fact that I had confirmed that I knew just about as much about myself as anybody else did gave me the strangest sense of relief of which I cannot begin to explain.

She took the news with about as much disappointment as she had when she'd become aware that I had no name. Which, if you cannot recall that far back, was not a very large amount. Obviously this was not entirely uncommon and therefore it came as no great surprise to my hosts that I was completely devoid of all identity. It dawned on me that it didn't have any significance here as the grand scheme was to take the miserable, downtrodden lives of its residents, cast them off into the abyss of the past, and begin fresh. I had simply taken this to a more literal level. It was odd. But not that odd.

"Oh well," Andy voiced simply with a shrug. "We'll figure it out eventually." The use of the collective pronoun threw me off a bit. I hate to sound cliche, but I'd felt a little outcasted there, for somewhat obvious reasons, ever since I'd first arrived and while I'd been shown various degrees of kindness from a variety of individuals, none had seemed so inclusive as when Andariel referred to me as not just a me, but as an us. A we. It pleased me. A lot.

I suppose that was the beginning of our friendship in a slightly diluted manner. She'd made me feel welcomed and I, though I was unaware of it at the time, had been the first person to give her welcoming committee procedures the time of day. So the general gladness that was caused by our meeting was mutual, shared by a couple of oddballs, exiled from a mass associated body of oddballs. I'll admit that it was a tad strange.

We spent quite a while (I'd venture an educated guess at two hours and fifty one minutes) just talking. Well, she talked. I listened. Very well, I might add. She told me of the programs she was and had once been enrolled in at the Institute, learning the higher Magicks and studying their practical uses. None of it sounded very interesting to me, but the sheer energy and excitement she put into recalling them was enough to keep my mind from wandering elsewhere. She told me of her elder sister whom she spoke of with great admiration though riddled with blatantly resentful undertones, so badly concealed that I found myself wondering whether she was really trying to hide her feelings or if she was purposively leaving them out in the open. Perhaps it was even of sarcastic nature as said sibling was supposed to have a large fanbase who worshipped the very ground she walked on. One might have assumed the somewhat less than vicious attacks were based out of jealousy as there were clearly none groveling at Andy's feet. I'd like to make the case otherwise, that she simply didn't approve of her sister's following for what ever reason. I'd like to, but I've very little evidence to support it so I'll just leave it up to my ethos, however that's standing right about now.

Eventually, she was dragged away by necessity of sleep, leaving me alone and stranded in a large hollow hole in the ground that kept getting darker and emptier as the populus either, like Andy, returned solemnly to their rooms for a good night's sleep or went out to the world above to enjoy the many wonders of the dark. For me, I assumed the latter option was entirely out of the question as it would only result in further confusion, awkward instances and perhaps even some degrading glares, imagine that. The other seemed relatively appealing now as I had grown increasingly exhausted over the past few hours, but it presented the dilemma of lacking the necessary key to return to that bare, uncomfortable rock of a bed on which I would probably sleep as well as a chronic insomniac would. On second thought, it didn't sound that appealing anymore.

As I sat there and reflected upon what I might do to remedy this problem of tire matched with inability to sleep, my head rested itself on my hands and I suppose, as one does in such situations, I drifted off.

At least I assume that's where those three hours and nine minutes went.

I was awoken at 1:53 am by a mysterious hand that reached out of the solid blackness and violently shook my arm which I'd been using as a rather bony pillow. I looked up in that recently woken wonder that comes after such rude reacquainting with the real world to find a stout, middle-aged woman glaring down at me with a look that expressed a great disdain for not only my insistence in being at this particular place at this particular time, but also for the fact that I existed at all and, for that matter, that she existed and, furthermore, had to be standing before me as she was now at 1:54 in the morning while better men slept comfortably in their beds.

"You can't sleep here, kid," she snapped bluntly, seizing my entire arm and forcing me out of the chair before diligently going to work wiping off every piece of furniture that I had come in contact with.

At a more reasonable hour, I might have been offended. But again, at 1:55 in the morning, all I really wanted to do was go back to sleep and so I, defeated by the determinedly mean-spirited cleaning woman, retreated back down what I only assumed was the right hallway to what I only assumed was the correct door and, without giving it much thought, knocked on it as loudly as I could in hopes that my apathetic roommate would find it in his heart to roll out of bed and open the door for me. If he was even there at all. When there was no answer, I assumed the latter must be true and, with a heavy sigh, leaned against the wall and slipped to the floor where I promptly decided that I would spend the rest of the night. At least until Talany returned.

I was half asleep when, from inside the room which I was convinced was empty, I heard a loud, abrupt snore.

If it wasn't 1:56 in the morning, I would have been angry.