It had taken him a day to memorize the layout of the cave system Denara had called home. The days bled in and out of him like spoiled wine; he couldn't figure out what hour it was, didn't know how many days he had spent here. When he asked Denara about it, she shrugged and told him that she had no idea how time passed. She didn't even know what year it was.

He spent his days slaving away in Denara's garden which was full of plants that he could only dream of seeing. Some were even declared extinct yet here they were. There was one time when he looked at the gaping mouth of the cave from there and saw how vehement the waters roared and splashed against the rocks. It had taken all his will to look away and stop thinking about that one thing he had been avoiding.

He spent lunchtimes with Denara in the kitchen, in the cavern adjacent to the gardens. Rather convenient, really. Perhaps he would adopt this arrangement if he ever owned a house.

When it's bandage-changing time, Denara would snap at him to get ready in the cavern beside the kitchen, where his rock waited for him. He had come to love that rock, no matter how hard and cold it goes when the wrong breeze blows through the cave.

The only other part of the system he hadn't dared asking Denara about was the one beyond his cavern. He had spent the past days trying to get her to talk about it but the girl was just like his rock. They both wouldn't budge.

Denara was an expert in starting conversations but would never quite finish them when it gets too personal. Nyxis kind of understood that defense. Here was a stranger who dropped from the sky, snapped at her, the moment he woke up and was now asking information about her. It's only natural that she would feel threatened.

At random times throughout the day, he would hear Denara sing, her soft voice floating past curtains and reaching him. It always reached him. He was so focused on the timbre of her voice that it had taken him a while to realize that Denara wasn't singing in any language familiar to him. He spoke Ylanela and she had been kind enough to honor that by speaking it to him. He heard of Keijula in his slowly-returning memories. He was pretty sure he was with someone who constantly switches between Ylanenla and Keijula when agitated.

But Denara's songs...they were in another language entirely.

It wasn't the Ancient language either, he had concluded one day as he was harvesting okline. Denara's voice was once again tempting him to stop working and just bawl at the divinity of her voice. The words did not sound like the normal Ancient words he'd use in Escuira spells. They were...too weird for it.

So what language was that? He shouldn't even be thinking about that.

Now, as they were eating yet another stewed fish meat, he worked up the courage to ask her something—anything. He shoveled a spoonful of soup into his mouth. "So," he started. "Why are you singing often?"

Denara froze, her hands hovering by the ladle stuck in the cauldron. "Because I like it," she answered without looking at him. "Why? Does it bother you?"

Denara had yet again deflected a personal question. "No," Nyxis said. "You have a beautiful voice."

"Hmm," was all Denara gave him.

They ate in silence for a while. Nyxis opened his mouth to speak as soon as Denara said, "There was something I—" She pursed her lips upon seeing Nyxis's expression. She shook her head. "You go first."

He mirrored her action. "No, you first."

"I was about to ask how much have you remembered about yourself," Denara dumped another ladleful of stew into her bowl. "I was wondering if you could tell me more about the world above."

Nyxis ran his tongue over a piece of meat before swallowing. "Why? Can you not go out there and see for yourself?"

Denara's smile carried nothing but sadness as she stirred her food with her spoon. "No, I cannot."

"Why?"

Denara set down her bowl which made a steely clunk against the rocks. "It is a very long story."

Nyxis looked behind him as if proving a point. "I am not going anywhere."smiling.

Denara snorted, amused. "Tell me about your memories first," she jerked her chin at him. "How much do you remember?"

Nyxis set down his bowl as well. "Just bits and glimpses," he dusted his trousers as if that would make a difference in the amount of lint stuck into the cloth. "I was sure I have a friend named June and he somehow got a drawback. I was helping another girl look for something. Then I somehow got into a fight with a powerful woman and I ended up here."

"Hmm."

Nyxis rubbed the back of his neck and felt the beginnings of the bandages wrapped around his back. "I remember bits from my childhood. My father...I think he stole something important," he said. "My father did many bad things. My mother followed his steps, surpassed him, even."

He stared at the fire, crackling and giving them heat during this cold evening. It was useful, was glorious, but it could devour everything in its way. He felt the same with magic and with power. He held his barely healed hands to his face. "I remember running away from home," he said, the image in his mind murky and incomplete. He needed to remember more. "I found friends along the way. The rest is just...blank."

He lifted his eyes to meet Denara's and found them trained on his face. Now that he was looking at her closely, he noticed that her eyes were the same color as the fire, bright orange burning with such an intensity he hadn't seen before. It was...refreshing.

She's beautiful.

He averted his eyes and stared at his half-eaten food. What was he doing? He shouldn't be thinking about that right now. He needed to remember who he was and probably would uncover something that required his attention. Denara was distracting, somehow. He sighpicked at the bandages by his forearm where the sleeves of his tunic ended. "I am really sorry," he said. "And thank you for all your help."

Denara snorted. "You make it sound like you are leaving already."

"Why? Do you want me to stay?" Nyxis wanted to kick himself. What was he saying? Denara's mouth parted as he averted his eyes. It's not like he could take back what he said. It's too late now.

Denara's laugh made him lift up his head to meet her eyes once more. "As you told me yourself, you make a fine kitchen assistant," she grinned. "Of course, I want you to stay."

Heat rushed to Nyxis's cheeks. What was this entirely new feeling? It's weird. He coughed into his fist, willing the heat in his face to subside. "I-if you say so..." he croaked. Why in Umazure was his voice a pitch higher?

"You know of Ceris Helgase?" Denara said after a minute of silence.

He nodded. "As I told you, he is my ancestor."

Denara stood up. "Then I suppose it is my turn to tell you something," she said. "Perhaps you could help me with something in return."

Nyxis stared at the mural for a long time.

Denara had led him past his rock and into the cavern beyond. There, the only thing that caught his eye was a vast mural stretching from the cavern's ceiling down to the floor. His jaw dropped at the number of details it showed him, from splashes of color to the threads of the clothes. Everything was art.

It depicted some sort of a collection of different events, sporting people who looked like they're about to leap off the wall and start speaking in no time. He waited a while trying to prove that speculation to no avail. Then he saw it. There, on a corner eye-level with him, was a man with dark hair, green eyes, and pale skin—a man who disturbingly looked like him.

Nyxis faced Denara when he found his voice. "Is this a prophecy or something?"

She shook her head and approached the mural. Her eyes went soft at the sight of the man in the painting. "He is Ceris," she ran a hand at the wall's surface. "He is the greatest sailor to have ever lived."

"Yes, that is what the history tomes call him," Nyxis craned his neck at the mural once more. "He sailed around the world, bringing home tons of treasures and stories of distant lands."

Denara laughed. "That is not what I admired about him, though," a slight sadness crept into her tone. "He was kind, generous, and noble. He never left his friends behind when they needed him. He is ever so ready to save the world with nothing but his ship, his sword, and..."

Denara turned to Nyxis, then. "Me," she said in a voice that's almost a whisper.

Nyxis choked on his saliva. "What?"

"He was my friend," Denara exhaled through her nose and regarded the mural. "Several lifetimes ago."

"B-but you are alive right now," Nyxis wagged a finger in Denara's direction. "H-he died a thousand years ago. I am his descendant, for Rudik's sake!"

"I know," Denara snapped, then heaved a heavy breath. "That is why I didn't hesitate to save you when I found you. I thought that maybe you could tell me something," Nyxis didn't speak. He wouldn't know what to say anyway.

"I am forgetting," Denara's fists clenched by her sides. "As much as I wanted to remember, the memories, they...they are choosing to leave."

Something inside Nyxis was struck by something he hadn't felt in a long time. He had to do something—anything—to make her feel better. He should do all that he could to help her with her problem just as she had helped him with his. Without thinking, he took her hand in his and squeezed gently. "What matters most is what is right in front of us," he said. Oh, by the great gods, what was he saying? "The past did not exist for us to dwell into. Rather, it has to be something that will make us step towards the future."

Denara met his eyes just as a tear slipped free from them. He smiled. "What is important is what is in us today, right now, at this moment."

She snorted a chuckle. "Are you always this dramatic?" she extracted her hand from his before turning to the mural again. "I would like to say goodbye to Ceris," she returned Nyxis's smile with one of her own. "One last time."