Chapter Text
“The phoenix, a legendary bird who finds rebirth in destruction. It was chosen by the people of Phoenix Drop to represent their new beginning free from fear and death. They were led by Lord Malik. Although he came from a background of riches and fortune, he connected with the people. With him at the forefront, he turned their settlement into a thriving village. He built houses, farms, he reached out to neighboring towns and villages and established trade. He even secured the best guards he could find to protect the village. Phoenix Drop was on the rise.
“That was until the Shadow King awoke. Disturbed from his centuries-long slumber, he began resurrecting the souls of fallen soldiers. Promising them with the gift of immortality, he ordered those soldiers to end the lives of those most precious to them, often the people they died protecting, as a test of loyalty. Lords across the region started facing mysterious deaths and disappearances. The soldiers who committed these acts became the Shadow King’s army.
“As portals between the over world and the shadow abyss opened across the land, so did plague and famine spread. The once prosperous lands of Phoenix Drop became barren almost overnight. Nothing could grow and the people of Phoenix Drop became hungry and starving. But Lord Malik did not let the spirit of his village die so soon. With help of his right hand and head guard, Garroth, he kept the village afloat for two years by trade with traveling merchants just to feed the people. Their stubbornness would be their fall.
“A blaze shining brightly against the night sky trapped Lord Malik, his wife, and newborn baby in their home. The guards were too late to respond as soon the house became nothing but ash and rubble. The spirit of Phoenix Drop died with him, his memory soon to be completely forgotten within only weeks.
“When it came time for Garroth to take over the late Malik's role as lord, he adamantly refused, and a village without a lord is destined to come to ruin.
“And it was my fault.”
The traveler placed his teacup back down on the saucer as he finished telling the story. The elderly woman across from him reached her hand out to him, placing it gently on his wrist.
“It’s not too late,” she reassured him. “The forces of nature led you here for a reason.”
She slowly stood from her chair, hobbling over to an old, dusty cabinet. Opening the doors, she pulled out a periwinkle staff.
It was majestic. When the sunlight through the windows shined on it, light was refracted across the whole room of her cabin. It sparkled.
“Hello, again,” the elderly woman greeted the staff. “It’s finally time.”
The traveler stood from his own seat, walking over to her. She took his hand and placed the staff in it.
“Take this,” she told him. “Place it somewhere that needs the help of Irene.”
As her hand left it, he held it tight. “And this will make things right again?” he asked.
“I know deep down that you have a good heart. I trust you to do what needs to be done.”
The traveler nodded, pulled over his gray hood, and exited the elderly woman’s cabin, staff in hand.
***
In a small forest clearing, a woman with raven hair awoke. Tall trees surrounded her, the sun’s rays just barely managing to reach her. It was warm upon her copper skin. She sat up amongst the tall, overgown grass, the green tickling her bare legs. She looked around the clearing, her eyes landing on a man dressed in green with a gray mask and hood covering his features. Their eyes meet.
A few twigs snap. The bushes rustle. Far out voices are heard shouting. With that, the hooded man escapes behind a tree, running out further into the forest.
The woman stands, fighting away a lingering exhaustion to chase after him. Poking out branches catch onto her white dress as she runs, tearing it into rags. Yet, she continues to run after him until she no longer can see him and she’s lost him for good.
The yelling voices from earlier approach, the sound of a sword unsheathing right behind her. The guard holding it points the blade right at her. She can only see his brown eyes through his helmet. They’re narrowed, untrusting.
“What’s a woman like you doing out here?” he sneered.
A second guard ran up behind him. He was bulkier, and his armor looked more aged. His helmet covered his entire face, slightly obscuring his voice.
“Forgive Zenix, please,” he says, placing a hand on the young guard’s shoulder. “He does not watch his mouth.”
His unseen glare at Zenix held the weight of daggers.
“Sir Garroth,” Zenix said, lowering his head and blade in respect.
“You’re… familiar,” said the woman.
The response from Garroth could only be described as a brief moment of panic. “You must be mistaken. I’ve never seen a maiden like you before,” he admits.
“Oh, where are my manners?” Garroth bows before her. “I am Sir Garroth, the head guard of Phoenix Drop.”
Zenix couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Don’t bow to her! We don’t know who she is or where she’s-”
“Zenix,” Garroth cut him off, rising from his bow. “You can still be polite. Hospitality is a noble trait for a guard.”
Zenix rolled his eyes and hesitantly bowed. “Zenix, guard apprentice.”
The woman bowed to them in turn. “Nice to meet you, Sir Garroth, and Sir Zenix.”
Zenix’s eyes lit up. “Did you hear that, Garroth? She called me sir! Seems I’m a better guard than you make me out to be.”
Garroth sighed and shook his head before moving his attention back to the mysterious woman in front of him.
“May we know your name?” he asked. “What are you doing out here in…” The words died on his tongue as he looked at her head to toe. All she was wearing was a simple white torn dress and gold bracelets on both of her wrists.
“So little clothing,” Zenix finished for him, leaning against a nearby tree and cleaning his sword with a rag.
“Zenix!” Garroth scolded.
She didn’t appear offended by his comments though. “I don’t know,” she told them honestly. “I don’t remember.” Her mind stood blank of anything that came before waking up in the forest.
“Not even your name?” Garroth prodded to which she shook her head.
“We should take you back to the village in any case,” he finally said. “It’s not safe for you out here.”
Zenix couldn't believe what he was hearing this time. He rose from his lean and stepped closer to Garroth, sword still in hand. “You can’t be serious! We’re taking an outsider to the village, are you insane?!”
“Zenix,” Garroth warned him, but his apprentice wasn’t backing down this time.
“We hardly have enough food for the people already there! We can’t be taking in random forest women! We just don’t have the resources!” He continued stepping closer, his sword grip tightening as he grew more argumentative and his movements more erratic.
“Zenix, that’s enough,” Garroth warned again as Zenix continued to approach.
“The people barely trust us after what happened to our lord. They blame us for his death! And then you refuse to take over as lord and so now we have a village that’s falling apart and dying because you’re too stubborn to admit that you can’t save everyone!”
“That’s enough!” he yelled.
Garroth had unsheathed his sword. Zenix looked down at the blade. It wasn’t pointed at him, but just the simple act of holding it let the threat sink in.
Zenix backed down and sheathed his sword, Garroth soon after.
“We will speak of this later.”
Zenix clenched his hands into fists, but resigned, leading the way back to the village.
Garroth looked back at the woman. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he apologized.
She wasn’t as bothered by their argument as she was bothered by what she heard about the state of their village. “Your village is… dying?” she asked, quite worriedly.
“You shouldn’t be concerned with those matters,” he told her. “Come now. We’re almost at Phoenix Drop.”
The forest got thinner the closer they got, views of red roof tiles now visible through the leaves. As they approached the outer paths of the village, the state of ruin it was in was all too apparent. Vines born from the cracks in the cobblestone foundations climbed up the buildings. Windows had cracked corners. Shutters were half hanging off of their perches. The streets were mostly empty besides a few women who were outside doing laundry. The fields they passed held coarse dirt and not even a single sapling could sprout. The village reeked of death.
“It’s empty,” she said, stopping in the middle of the road.
“The streets aren’t very lively at the moment,” Garroth said, the guilt seeping through in his voice.
“No,” she responded. “I mean… I feel it. Something in the air. It’s empty.”
It sent a chill down her spine. It was an overwhelming sensation of death.
“See? Now you let a crazy woman into our village,” Zenix said, crossing his arms.
Garroth didn’t bother to scold him and continued to stare at the woman, unsure of what to make of what she was saying.
She ran over to one of the enclosed barren farms. She leaned down and put her hand to the dry dirt. It crumbled and cracked under her touch. “It’s hurting. The land is hurting,” she told him, standing back up, her eyebrows drooping.
“That’s just how it’s been,” Garroth sighed, not having a better explanation. “Nothing has grown here for well over two years now.”
“Why is that?” she asked.
“It all started after our lord-...” Garroth suddenly cut himself off. “...our lord…” he repeated, searching his mind for the words, for the memories. “I… don’t remember. Something… something happened involving our lord. Why- why can’t I remember?”
The loss of memory shook Garroth to his core. He should know this. He was there. But his memories of the previous lord were becoming a gap in his mind. Just trying to remember anything was making his head pound.
“Forget it,” said Zenix. “He was a terrible lord anyway.”
“He was?” asked the woman.
Zenix scoffed. “It’s not worth talking about. Just know that Phoenix Drop is the way it is now thanks to him.”
Garroth had ignored their conversation due to his crisis. “I’m going to go lie down,” he says, holding his head as he leaves towards the center of town.
With Garroth now gone, Zenix no longer cared about the woman he was forced to bring here. “Go ahead and do whatever you wish. Just don’t cause any trouble. We have enough on our plate as it is.”
Zenix then left too, leaving the woman all alone in the barren crop patch. She started to wander around the village, the only noise to be heard being that of the bellowing wind, some broken creaky shutters, and the sounds of her own bare feet against the tough gravel.
She stood still when she reached the center of town, closed her eyes, and just listened. The air was cold, dry, and thin. A soft whistle soon reached her ears just barely managing to be louder than the wind. It was a song. She opened her eyes and looked in the direction it was coming from. At the end of one of the parting paths sat a well, the source of the whistling.
She ran over to the well and looking down it she saw a man clad in armor sitting at the bottom. His face was bright red.
“Oh, Molly!” he exclaimed, seeing the woman at the top. “You came back for me! I knew you loved me.”
The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not Molly!” she yelled down, her voice echoing off of the damp cobble walls.
“You’re not?” said the man, his confusion seeming genuine.
“I’m sorry, but Molly would be my name,” a sweet voice behind her said.
She turned around to see a beautiful middle-aged woman with blonde hair standing behind her. She walked over to the edge of the well and looked down at the man below.
“Dale!” she yelled, her stern tone contrasting sharply against the one she just had. “You stupid idiot for a husband! This is the fifth time this week you’ve gone and thrown yourself down the well!”
“Well it’s just um…” Dale trailed off. “…It’s right here. It’s very slippery, and loud.” He laughed to himself. “Molly, you’re so funny.”
“Sweet Irene,” Molly muttered to herself. “Dale, when you get out of here, we are going to have a serious talk with Sir Garroth about- Ahhh!” The wall of the well crumbled under weight, throwing her down.
Dale caught her in his arms. “Wow. You’re like a falling angel, Molly.”
The sight of his infatuated smile only angered Molly further. “Damn you, Dale!”
The woman laughed. “Don’t worry! I’ll get you out!” she yelled down to them before running off to find a rope.
In the village, she saw a collection of shirts being held up by a rope to dry. She removed each shirt, folding them and placing them neatly on some nearby crates, then took the rope, hoping it would be long enough.
She ran back over to the well and threw down the end of the rope. “Hold on!” she yelled.
She tried to pull it back up, but it was too heavy with two people, or even with one person. She looked around for something to help her and spotted a crank by the roof of the well. She tied her end of the rope around it and used the crack to pull Molly and Dale out.
“You’re a life saver, dear,” said Molly after stepping back onto dry land. “You must be new. What’s your name?”
“I don’t know my name,” the woman admitted.
“Ah, well isn’t that tough. But thank you for saving us. I apologize about my husband.” Molly side-eyed Dale. “He should know better than to get drunk over our lord.”
“I’m drunk because our son died,” he whined, leaning on Molly’s shoulder.
“Brian isn’t dead, you dunce!”
“Wait, then why’d I get drunk?” Dale asked.
“Because you blame yourself for our lord dying! Because… because…” Molly trailed off, the words just leaving her. “Huh. Well that’s strange. I just don’t remember.”
Molly shook her head. It must not have been important. “Regardless, you owe this young lady an apology.” She put her hands on her hips.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” Dale slurred out, resting his head on Molly’s shoulder again.
“Good enough,” Molly sighed, already too tired of his antics. “Come on, let’s sober you up. And go tell Brendan to fix the well.” Molly dragged Dale off by his wrist.
The mysterious woman looked back at the broken wall and the stones lying in the water at the bottom now. “If I can get those rocks back up here… maybe I can fix the well,” she muttered to herself.
She grabbed a bucket lying nearby and attached it to the rope. She grabbed onto it and started to lower herself down the well slowly. When she reached the bottom, she picked up the stones and put them into the bucket, then scaled the well again. Her hands and feet burned, but she ignored the sensations. At the top of the well, she used the crank to bring the rocks in the bucket back up.
She untied the bucket from the rope and sat down to piece all of the rocks back together. “So… this one goes here… and that one goes there… and this one has to sit at the top…” She continued to talk to herself as she placed all the stones back like putting together a puzzle.
“Brendan, go fix this. Brendan, go fix that,” a voice coming up behind her complained. “Brendan, I need help with- Hey! What are you doing to our well?!” The man ran up after spotting her.
The woman moved out of the way to reveal a fixed wall.
He was speechless. It was fixed? He placed his hand on it. The rocks didn’t budge. “How… Who are you?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she answered.
“You don’t…” He was still astonished by the work she did. “But this… this is incredible! How can I thank you enough?! You don’t know how much time this has saved me and now I can actually get to the other things people ask of me and thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” He kneeled at her feet, groveling.
The woman stood awkwardly above him.
He stood back up, taking her hand and enthusiastically shaking it. “I’m Brendan. You’re a goddess,” he praised her.
“Brendan!” a voice from the village yelled.
He dropped the woman’s hand and stood back in fear. He recognized that voice. A woman with brunette braided hair stormed over to them.
“D-Donna…?” Brendan’s voice quavered.
“How come when I left my house to get the laundry for all of the women in my home did I find our clothes line gone and our clothes sitting on dirty boxes?!” she shouted.
“Th-that wasn’t me! I wouldn’t touch your clothes!” he squealed, hiding behind the mysterious woman.
“Do you mean this rope?” she asked, pointing at the one she tied to well.
Donna paused her yelling for a moment, looked at the rope, then looked back at the unrecognizable woman. “How am I supposed to tell? Ropes all look the same!” She threw her arms up in the air.
“Then that might have been me. I needed a rope to save Molly and Dale from the bottom of the well,” the woman informed her.
Donna’s anger completely dissipated at the learning of that information. In fact, she started laughing. “If you needed a rope, you could’ve just told me. I thought someone was tryin’ to run off with some of our laundry, you see,” she said. “That’s what happens when you live with a house full of women. Bunch of creeps could just come waltzin’ by and steal our clothes for whatever dirty machinations they can come up with.”
Brendan was offended. “C-creep?! I would never do that!”
“I don’t mean you, Brendan. Just… having lived a lot of places, there’s a lot of bad stuff you see out in the world,” Donna explained.
“Then why’d you yell at me first?!” he wailed.
“Because you might’ve let someone take my clothes,” she replied.
“That’s the guards’ job!” he retorted.
“Yeah, well, you’re a whole lot more useful than them,” she quipped.
He didn’t know whether to feel flattered, or upset at the bestowal of more work.
“I’m sorry, I took your rope,” the mysterious woman apologized.
“And I’m sorry for yellin’,” Donna replied. “Let’s start over. I’m Donna.” She held her hand out to the woman to shake.
“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Donna,” the woman said, bowing to her, which threw her for a bit of a loop.
She laughed at the formality. “No need for that here, sweetheart. Now what’s your name?”
“I don’t remember,” the woman replied.
“Really?” asked Donna. “Amnesia?”
The woman nodded.
“I know that. A lot of the village is suffering from some part of it,” she told her. “Heck, I didn’t even know until my friend from out of town pointed it out.”
“Wait, we are?” Brendan asked.
“Hey, maybe I can bring you to him,” Donna suggested to her. “And he can get you some new clothes too. Your current ones are lookin’… a little worse for wear.”
“Well, you ladies have fun. I have to continue my chores or I’m gonna get yelled at again,” Brendan sighed, a distant scream of his name being heard in the distance. “That’s my queue.”
Donna started up some small talk as she and the mysterious woman headed into the market. “So how’d you find your way to Phoenix Drop?”
“Garroth and Zenix brought me here after finding me in the forest,” she answered.
“Of course he would,” Donna sighed.
The market was a small square around a single dead tree. Two stalls sat next to each other, the wood rotting, the patterned fabric roofs ripped and weathered, and crates sat out opened and empty.
A tall man with ginger hair and a walrus mustache stood by one the stalls with an assortment of items in a neighboring wheelbarrow.
“Visher!” Donna called out to him.
He turned around, approaching the two girls with his arms out. “Donna!” he greeted her, meeting her in a bear hug. “Who is your friend?” he asked when they let go.
“That’s what we’re tryin’ to find out,” she said, pushing the mysterious woman forward. “Garroth found her outside the village. She can’t remember a thing. Not even her name.”
Visher hugged the woman with the same warmth and strength he did Donna, lifting her off the ground. “Oh, you poor girl.” He set her back down. “You’re going to be okay. Uncle Visher will make sure of that. Let me grab you some garb.” He turned around and started searching his stock for items to clothe her.
He pulled out a plain outfit only consisting of a black corset and shorts along with a pair of knee-high boots.
“This shall suffice,” Visher said, handing it off to her.
“How much do I owe you for this?” asked Donna.
Visher shook his head. “Don’t you worry about that. I always help a woman in need. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t hear the end of it from my wife.”
The mysterious woman soon finished changing to her loaned clothes and twirled in delight.
“Wow, look at you. Lookin’ better already,” said Donna before something caught her eye.
She walked around the mysterious woman and brushed her long raven hair aside. It was just barely visible below her shoulders, but on her back was a marking in bright white of two mirrored wing like designs.
“Hey, Visher! Check this out,” Donna said, admiring the detailed markings.
“They’re like angel wings,” Visher noted.
“What is it?” the woman asked.
“On your back, you have wings. Like not actual wings, just something printed on your skin,” Donna explained. “Did you not know about this?”
The woman shook her head.
“Maybe they’re related to who you are,” Donna suggested. “You ever seen anything like this, Visher?”
Visher shook his head as well. “Not naturally, no. Is it paint?”
“Could be…” Donna said, deep in thought.
“Don’t you have a village librarian you can ask?” Visher queried.
Donna’s face morphed into that of disgust. “Oh, Emmalyn? If I can even get a word in with her. Cause she’s a bitch.”
“Donna, how could you say that? There’s children around!” Visher pointed at a young patrolling guard nearby.
“I’m sixteen!” the guard yelled back.
“Huh? Really?” questioned Visher. “Uh, eat your vegetables then,” he said before brushing the baby-faced guard off.
“Aw, wait, Brian, come back,” Donna said, bringing the guard back in with a laugh. “Sorry your dad’s drunk again,” she said after her laugh died.
“At least Sir Dale is only an idiot when he drinks,” Brian sighed, trying to have a sense of humor.
Donna laughed at that. “Whoa, look at you callin’ your dad ‘sir’. You’re gonna make a fine full-fledged guard someday if you keep talkin’ like that. You might even make Garroth’s apprentice.”
“R-really? Thank you, Miss Donna,” said Brian.
“Say, Brian,” Donna said. “I have to discuss something with Visher. Do you mind showin’ our new friend here around?”
“B-but, I’m in the middle of patrol,” Brian said, sounding a bit conflicted.
“Aw, it won’t take long. And she’s lost her memory, it’s your job to look out for people,” she persuaded.
“Alright then.” Brian turned to the mysterious woman. “Would you please follow me?” he asked through his wavering voice.
The woman nodded excitedly and waved goodbye to Donna and Visher as she followed him back into the inner village.
Brian walked very stiffly with his eyes always straight ahead.
“You don’t talk much,” she noted, walking with slightly more of a pep in her step.
“H-huh?! Oh, uh, right. This right here are the guard quarters,” he pointed at the first fully brick building.
“Is that where you live?” she asked.
“Oh, no. I live with my parents. Sir Garroth and Zenix stay here,” he corrected.
“And your parents are Molly and Dale, right?” she asked.
“Have you met them?” Brian inquired.
“Briefly. I saved them from the bottom of a well,” she replied, the corners of her mouth perking up as she remembered the entertaining scene.
“Yeah, that sounds like them,” he laughed, awkwardness and embarrassment seeping through.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he apologized. “I never asked for your name. How impolite of me.”
“That’s alright. I don’t remember it so I wouldn’t have a name to give,” she replied.
Brian was a bit taken aback at how content she seemed with that fact. “If that’s the case, then why don’t you just pick a name to go by?” he suggested. “Just until you can remember your real one that is.”
She thought about it for a moment, searching her mind for any sort of name she could take on. One stood out to her. “Aphmau,” she said.
“Aphmau?” Brian pried. It was certainly unique, and he wouldn’t say it, but a little weird.
“Yeah,” she said. “I think I like that one. It almost seems… familiar to me.”
“O-okay. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Aphmau,” Brian said, bowing out of respect.
Aphmau bowed back.
Brian was surprised at that. He wasn’t used to people showing him such a level of respect. “If there’s anything you wanna know about Phoenix Drop, you can come to me,” he said, his confidence growing.
“Just showing me around is enough,” she said, gracing him with a smile.
“In that case, I’ll bring you to some of my favorite places. Come on!” he said, and they continued on their tour.
Garroth watched them from the upper story of the guard quarters. He put his helmet back on as he heard footsteps on the stairs.
“Is it later yet?” Zenix asked, setting his helmet down on his bedside table.
“You still have objections?” Garroth asked.
“Yes! Of course! Having her here is only going to bring more trouble than it’s worth,” Zenix said.
“She seems to be getting along quite fine,” Garroth noted.
“It’s not her I’m worried about, it’s the villagers. We’ve produced no answers about the lord and his death and now you’re bringing around some crazy amnesiac who’s just going to waste resources. How can you trust she is who she says she is?”
“Then we’ll keep a close eye on her.”
Unexpectedly, Zenix wraps his arms around Garroth.
“How?” Zenix asked. “How can you be so trusting? Of her? Of… me?”
Garroth hugs Zenix back. “It’s not about trust. It’s about helping those who are lost and alone.”
“She reminded you of me, didn’t she?”
“Well, it’s not often I come across people lost in the woods with no memories of who they are.”
“Why did you take me in, Garroth?” Zenix asked, letting go of Garroth and wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “In the face of all of the risks I could bring? You’re an idiot.”
“And what if I just left you there? Left you to die?”
“Could’ve saved you a lot of trouble,” Zenix muttered.
“Zenix, I’ve never for a second regretted taking you in as my own.” Garroth placed his hand on Zenix’s shoulder.
Zenix looks off with a solemn expression. “That just… is going to make everything hurt so much more.”
“Why don’t you rest for the night? I’ll take the evening to morning patrols,” Garroth suggested.
Zenix was hesitant but nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks, Garroth.” He smiled as he watched Garroth leave.
“And finally, this is our library,” Brian said, gesturing to one of the larger buildings in the village. “It’s owned and run by our resident librarian, Emmalyn.”
Aphmau recognized that name as someone mentioned by Donna. “She would know about my markings,” she said aloud.
“Huh?” Brian said, not really understanding.
“Oh! The sun’s setting. You said you had to be home for dinner?” Aphmau said.
“Gah! That’s right!” Brian exclaimed, completely forgetting about what she said previously. “I have to go, Miss Aphmau, but it was a pleasure meeting you and showing you around.”
“Thank you so much!” she said, waving him off. “Have a nice night!”
“You too, Miss Aphmau!” Brian waved as well as he started walking home.
And there she was again. Alone. In front of the Phoenix Drop library.
She knocked on the front door. “Hello?” she called out, slowly opening it.
The library was the size of a large house. It was divided into three main rooms: the front desk which currently sat empty, a comfy living area fit with a stove and stairs to the second story, and the actual library where bookcases lined every wall.
She wandered through it, in between the shelves. The books were all neatly binded. They were ordered on the shelves by their genre, author, and title. She pulled a book out. Looking inside, it was a romance novel called Midnight. She didn’t look at it for long and tossed it to the floor.
She looked further and came across another fiction book called The Mage of Goz. Still not what she was looking for and tossed it as well.
She kept looking all over the shelves for just anything that could resemble the marks on her back, tossing any book that wouldn’t help her.
She paused when she pulled out a book with a navy blue cover and a strange symbol. It almost looked like a white three leafed clover. She stared at the cover, a sense of familiarity coming over her.
“What are you doing?!” a shrieky voice yelled behind her. It came from a young blonde woman with glasses and a magenta coat. Her face was red and fuming mad. “This is a highly disrespectful way to treat books! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get your hands on some of these?!”
Aphmau stared at her with wide eyes, the book dropping from her hands.
Her silence only angered the other further. “Are you stupid?!”
“No, I don’t think so,” Aphmau replied.
“Who are you?!” she yelled.
“I’m Aphmau. You must be Emmalyn. Donna told me about you,” Aphmau answered.
“Oh. That explains it. Donna told you, huh? I bet she sent you here just to rile me up, huh?! Well it’s working!”
“She said you knew something about this.” Aphmau turned around and moved her hair out of the way to show off the marking on her back.
Emmalyn looked closer, adjusting her glasses just slightly to get a better look. “I can’t exactly see it very clearly as your shirt is in the way.”
“I can fix that,” Aphmau said, lifting up her shirt.
Emmalyn’s face flushed bright red. “Don’t take off your shirt! Ugh! I’m dealing with idiots in this village! I don’t even know who you are!”
“I just told you. I’m Aphmau,” she said, turning around.
“I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
“That would make sense. I just got here. Garroth found me in the forest.”
“And let me guess. You can’t remember anything about yourself, can you?” Emmalyn asked sarcastically, kneeling down to pick up her thrown books.
“How did you know?”
Emmalyn couldn’t believe it. Both how stupid this woman was and how Garroth managed to find another strange person with no memories right outside their village? She should study that phenomenon.
“Regardless, you’ve caused enough trouble here already, so get out!” Emmalyn yelled at her.
“But I have nowhere else to go,” Aphmau said.
“Does it look like I care?!” Emmalyn yelled, standing up, a book in each hand.
“O-okay… I’ll leave you alone.” Aphmau slowly backed away as Emmalyn returned to sorting her books.
She backed away until she ended up in the furthest room. The one with the lit furnace. The warmth of it distracted her. She kneeled down by the furnace and sat by it, soaking in the heat radiating off the fire. Maybe she’ll just stay here, out of Emmalyn’s way.
A tired Emmalyn walked by her minutes later on her way upstairs, yawning and rubbing her eyes. Sorting everything again must’ve taken a lot from her, but it caused her to walk right by Aphmau, hardly noticing her curled up in the corner of the room.
Eventually, to the heat of the furnace, Aphmau fell asleep.
“What are you still doing here?!” Emmalyn yelled at her in the morning. Apparently Emmalyn wakes up early in the morning to watch the sunrise and she had finally caught Aphmau squatting in her house.
“Get out!” she yelled again, pulling Aphmau up by the sleeves and forcibly throwing her out of the library. “I’m going to tell Garroth about you!” Emmalyn slammed the doors shut.
Aphmau stood back up, brushing the stay pebbles and gravel off of her. The sun was just beginning to rise. She just started to walk with no conscious direction, ending up at one of the barren crop fields. She didn’t know why she came here.
The same sense of pain and hurt came over her as it did before. She kneeled down to the dirt. It was so dry, it was irritating her skin. Still, she placed her hand down and closed her eyes. And then a glow. And as if being pried from her back, wings of light grew upon her laying the area in a thick fog of pure light. By the time the light faded, the once dry and dying ground was green and full of life.
A gasp. “What have you done?” Standing behind her was Garroth. He saw everything.