When he woke up, it was more than just not knowing where he was. It was not knowing who he was. He felt disconnected from his body, his thoughts aimlessly floating around, and he didn't think he had the strength to form a coherent sentence.

He didn't want to open his eyes. He wanted to sink back into the comforting darkness where he didn't have to think, because all these questions came flooding in. But there was a nagging at the back of his mind, telling him he had something to finish. Something important.

So he opened his eyes.

"How do you feel?" A voice broke through his thoughts. It wasn't particularly caring, or curious, but it wasn't careless. He propped himself up with one arm, and searched the room for the voice.

An old woman, arms crossed, was standing next to the bed he appeared to be in. She frowned,
"Are you deaf too? I asked how you feel?" He almost fell out of the bed seeing how close she was, but then he remembered he had to reply.
"I'm not deaf, no," he managed to get out, his voice hoarse. He touched his throat lightly. The woman was looking at him, and he could tell she wanted him to hurry up with his slow reply.

"I feel.. I don't know, my head hurts, like a really horrible headache? And, so does my chest." She nodded, looking unsurprised,
"Okay, I want you to sit still for a moment." She lifted her arms slightly, as if preparing for a spell. It was a single word in the tongue of Old, the language of ancient magic.
"Auxilio." It was not said, but spoken, a quiet peace against the raging storm of his thoughts. Specks of golden dust flew around her and around him, settling into his bare arms. He shivered, though it wasn't because it was cold.

This was powerful healing magic.

But what exactly was she trying to heal?

He tried to recall where he was before this, but every time he tried, it was like a knife piercing his head, and he couldn't pull it out. It hurt, and he didn't know how to fix it. The gap inside his memories was just frighteningly empty.

How did this happen? Why?
He waited for the healer to finish up, and hoped he wouldn't conjure up any more questions he didn't have an answer to.

He turned his head towards the healer, who had her eyes tightly shut. Although her face was lined with wrinkles, and she had silvery white hair, her posture was strong and proud. She needed no cane to hold her up, only her will and magic. He could easily see what kind of person she was, just from the way she held herself.
But what kind of person am I?

The questions had no end to them. He could only let them pass by, to not dwell on them too much. Else it would engulf him.

"The headaches are to be expected, and I have a feeling I know where the chest pains are coming from," The healer told him. As he met her silver eyes, she hesitated for a moment.
"Are you sure you want to hear this?" Slowly, he nodded his head, then again more firmly. At the very least, it will answer one of his questions.
"Your memories have been damaged."

He clenched his fists, a frown on his face.
"Someone did this on purpose." The healer stayed silent. His frown deepened.
"And it can't be reversed, can it. Even if I did try, they wouldn't be the same." Was this kind of thing normal for him? He didn't think so, but really, what did he know? Absolutely nothing.

He shook his head sadly and lowered his head,
"I don't even know my own name."

The healer had heard though.
"You were Cyrus," she said. He looked up at her with his malachite-coloured eyes, sadness still lingering in them,
"You knew me?"

She shook her head,
"No. But I know someone who did." Her gaze travelled to a potted coral pink flower on the bedside.
"Azalea." Cyrus gave her a confused look. Was she talking about the name of the person? She offered no more on the topic however, and set her gaze once more on him.

"There could be a way to heal your memories, if you wish it so." He held his breath. Giving himself a little hope, but not so much as to breathe again.

"It's called Aevia, the Cloud Kingdom. A kingdom of forgotten dreams and lost memories. Viewed by others as a myth, but I don't believe so. Be warned, this is not an easy journey if you decide to undertake this," The healer told him intently. She waited for him to make his choice. Cyrus breathed out.

Could he leave his past behind? This was a chance to start from the beginning. As soon as he thought about it, he knew his answer. He couldn't. There was a sense of duty and loyalty holding him back, not just to himself, but something even bigger. He needed to know. He needed answers, and the only way he was going to get them was travelling to Aevia. Besides, all myths were based on some truth.

"I have a feeling I haven't gone through anything easy. Tell me what I have to do."

🌺-🌺-🌺

The streets of Terrae, the Earth Kingdom, were full of life. Vendors shouted from their market stalls, the aroma of fresh spices and herbs filling the air. The brick buildings were overgrown with foliage, tangled with vines and flowers. Rays of sunlight filtered through the greenery, giving them a warm yellow hue to the edges. It was just past noon, the sun sky high.

Cyrus walked the city, peering at the wooden signs, then back at the map the healer gave him. He was to find a 'friend of friends', a man called Eli, who would help prepare him for the trip. Unfortunately, Cyrus was hopelessly lost. He tried turning the map the other way around, thinking he might have had it backwards, but he just had a horrible sense of direction.

Cyrus tucked the map into his pocket, defeated. He would just have to accept the fact he was not an expert in map-reading, and ask someone for directions.

Looking around for a very friendly-looking person, his eyes caught something else. It was the flower the healer was looking at before. He walked over there as if in a trance. Cyrus stroked its petals delicately, feeling its smooth, soft surface. Pain stabbed his head, and he dropped the petal, holding his hand to his temples.
"Ow," he whispered, holding back a groan, "Stupid damaged memories."

Letting out a sigh, he walked away from the flower. He spotted a friendly-looking man near a fruit stall. He had a jolly smile and laughing eyes, with a brown beard. Cyrus raised his hand and called,
"Hi! Can I have directions please?" The man spotted him and walked over with the smile still on his face,
"Not from 'round these parts, aye?" He wiped his sticky fingers on his pant legs,
"How can I help ya?"

"I'm looking for a man named Eli? Do you know where I can find him?" The man laughed,
"Course I do. Ev'ryone 'round here knows that ol' man. Jus' go down this street for 'bout 2 blocks, then turn left, an' then right, an' his shop is the third on the street." Cyrus blew a sigh of relief,
"Thank you so much." The big man slapped him on the back heartily, and Cyrus held back a wince at the sting,
"No problem! Always happy to help. Hope to see ya 'round again." He turned to the stall and headed back, lifting up his hand in a wave.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Cyrus whispered under his breath,
"Actually, you probably won't see me again, thank you. Yes, have a good day."

He set off down the street at a steady pace. But after a while, he got the feeling.. someone was following him.
Who could be following me? He glanced back down the street, but everyone seemed to be doing their own thing. Deciding his mind was just playing tricks, he started walking at a brisk pace, hoping to make it at Eli's place soon.

Cyrus couldn't ignore the feeling someone was watching him. It made the hairs on the back of his neck rise, but he gritted his teeth and continued on. The knife in his pant pocket suddenly felt very much more dangerous and heavy. His chest felt tight as he tried to calm himself and tell himself it was alright, nobody was coming after him.

He was coming up to the block where he had to turn left at, when he was yanked into an alleyway. All the air rushed out of him, and an unknown female voice spoke lowly,
"So you are alive. That fool couldn't do his one job right. But never mind. It'll give me the pleasure of doing it myself." Straining his eyes in the dark, Cyrus saw a flash of silver on the figure that stood very close to him.
"Who the hell are you?" His voice was taunt with nerves, but luckily, it didn't shake. With surprise, he could almost see a sly smile on his kidnapper's face.

"At least he got one thing right. All I have to do," The figure slid a hand against his arm, and whispered delicately in his ear,
"Is kill you." One. Two. The seconds never felt so slow as he reached for his leg and pulled out his knife. He elbowed her with his other arm, and made a quick sprint for the light at the end of the alley.

Something flew past him, and when he reached up to touch his ear, he pulled it away to see it sticky with blood.
"That was a warning. Don't move." An arrow lay on the ground beside him. His eyes wide, Cyrus froze in place.
Who the hell was she?
"Good, good. Now drop your weapon." The knife clattered to the ground.

"Poor you. I almost wish you had your memories, just so I can see the look on your face as I pierce your heart. Now wouldn't that be a sight to see." A scream was stuck in his throat as he tried to swallow. He bit his tongue hard, ready to let it out, when she muffled it with a piece of cloth.
"Ah, ah, ah. Are you trying to spoil my fun?"
If that including getting out of here alive, then yes.

"Now, I want you to stay super still for me while I tie you up. Else we'd have quite a messy death up our sleeves, wouldn't we." Cyrus stayed silent.
"Good boy," she told him as she ruffled his sandy blonde hair. Taking a loop of rope, she took her time tying him up, putting in a bunch of complicated knots.

When she noticed him looking, she winked,
"Just a little precaution Cyrus. Can never be to sure. Don't forget to treasure your last moments in life!" She giggled, finishing up the last knot.
"It'll soon be over, don't you worry a thing."

Yeah, kind of hard for me not to. Don't you worry though, I'll try my best.

He just hoped his death would be quick.

"I want you to sit now, okay?" She asked with fake politeness.
"Never mind, I'll do it myself." She shoved him hard, and while caught off guard, she sent a powerful kick to his stomach, knocking him to the ground. Cyrus let out a small groan, feeling like he was about to throw up.

As she was about to send a punch as well, she stopped midway, turning to the front of the alley. Another person had arrived.
"Playtime is over."