The clouds along the horizon were shaded pastel purple and pink, and the sun had just started to fall. Above the horizon, the sky was a blue fading into a dark navy.

The two figures barely moved. It was a battle of wills, a battle of inner strength. It had not gotten down to physical strength yet, but they were weakening. One was bound to break off. Beads of sweat rolled down the assassin's face, though Cyrus couldn't say the same for the hooded figure, as they were covered.

Cyrus tried to at least loosen his bonds, but they were too tight to get out of. The ropes chaffed against his skin; no doubt it was going to leave bruises across his body. Whoever this assassin was, she really knew how to hold a hostage.

And who I was.

He gave up on trying to escape. The two were blocking the exit anyways, there wasn't really a way to get by them. His hands were tied against his back, and ropes wrapped around his torso and arms, pressing them against his sides. He was immobile. And in a pretty bad predicament.

Cyrus decided to sit against the wall, darkened by shadows. If he was going to wait, he better get comfortable.

After his near-death experience, he would have thought to be more shaken up. But he wasn't, and perhaps that was normal for him. A fleeting memory passed by, a glimpse of another time, but as he tried to bring it back, another memory-knife came. All he could do was lower his head in pain. God, it hurt. He couldn't have gotten amnesia instead, no, it had to be complicated. Plus being extremely painful.

Cyrus sighed. There was no point in complaining that life wasn't fair, he just had to accept it and continue on. Even if it was confusing and difficult.

He knew the memory-knives were triggered when he tried to piece back his memories, which was a pain because that would land him right back at the beginning. Those two fighting had some answers, he was sure, but whether they would give him them was a whole new question altogether.

They were familiar to him. He didn't know who exactly they were, but they were familiar. And it frustrated him he couldn't remember anymore. All Cyrus was left with was his feelings.

The sound of a blade being drawn drew him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see the two preparing to fight once more. Their chests were heaving as they gasped for breath, their previous fight no doubt taken a toll on them.
Who started the battle though?

The hooded figure had drawn the sword. It was a slender one, but he could tell its blade was deadly sharp. It glinted in the darkness, matching the glint in Hood's eyes. A spark of dangerous mischief.

The assassin on the other hand, favoured a dagger. Her bow was on the ground, while she wore the quiver, packed with different feathered arrows.

This was one fight worth watching.

Not like he had a choice or anything.

Then for a split second, he could swear that he caught Hood, as he had dubbed them, glancing at him. And in that split second, it was as if something briefly formed a connection between them. A flash of coral pink. But he shook it off.

Hood suddenly broke the silence, and now calmer, Cyrus could tell Hood was a young woman. She spoke with a hint of ferocity and determination, 
"You can't beat me. I will bring him back." Assassin, as Cyrus was shortening names now, shook her head.
"Aevia isn't real. And even if it was, it's guarded by something even you can't defeat, Azalea."

Cyrus tried to hold it in, but the pain was too excruciating. It wasn't just a knife piercing his skull, it was like his skull was splitting apart. It sent shock waves of agonizing pain as his memories tried to heal themselves, but was only making it worse.

Azalea. I miss you. Where'd you go?

His pain-filled screams echoed across the alley.

Azalea and Assassin whispered at the same time,
"Silentium."
"Praetereo."
Magic flecks sparked around them.

Tears flooded Cyrus' face silently, and he collapsed to the ground, shaking.

Azalea was beyond furious. Her aura was an angry red, and the remaining magic flecks danced around her with ferocity.
"Look what you've done to him. Look what you've done to him!" Her grip on the hilt of her sword tightened, and she swung it powerfully at Assassin.

Assassin stumbled back, raising her dagger at the last possible moment, sending it flying against the wall as the two blades clanged against each other. Fear was imprinted on her face as she almost fell over from Azalea's hatred.
"I— I wasn't the one who did it! I swear!" She shook her head menacingly, and stepped towards her.
"Oh, you know what you did."

Assassin glanced over at Cyrus, still on the ground, only focused on the pain. She smiled slyly.

She dropped to the ground and thrust an arrow into Azalea's leg. In those moments she gave herself, she quickly sprinted over to Cyrus. Assassin drew another arrow from her quiver, grabbed Cyrus and pulled him upright, and pointed an arrow at his head.

"You do anything else, he dies."

🌺-🌺-🌺

Cyrus was trapped in the confinement of his own mind, a prison that he did not know if he was going to get out of. He was all alone with just his thoughts.

What happened?

He had blocked himself off from the outside after they silenced his cries, and retreated to someplace safer than the awful pain. It was dulling now, and just throbbed.

Azalea.

A memory had been healed, put back together by uneven stitches. It was there, but blurred at the edges. The details were fuzzy, but the clearest person he could remember was Azalea.

His girlfriend.

Or perhaps she used to be. Who knew if she was trying to kill him now?

They were fighting together, back to back. There was a sorrow in their eyes of all that they had seen, but there was also love and courage in there. A fierce determination he saw in Azalea moments before. Their force was unyieldingly powerful and strong. It radiated hope.

We were in a war. Has it ended? Is it still going on? How did I get caught up in the midst of this whole mess?

The questions began again, and each question prompted another. Cyrus still had no answers.

Azalea used to be someone very close to him, that much he could tell, but now she was like a stranger. A stranger with a familiar face. He wasn't who he used to be.

Even though Cyrus could not recall any memories of himself, the burden he felt was still there. It weighed him down, leaving him struggling to stay standing up.

His heart ached for a love out of reach, and his head throbbed with the pain of the memories he could not have to himself. He did not know if he could handle the pain he carried. He didn't want to be alone. Loneliness could not fill the gap in his heart, only widen it.

Cyrus exhaled. He would get through this. Like he told himself before, he just had to continue on. There was nothing else he could do.

Why should he give up when there was still something to hope for? That hope didn't just have to be a dream, it could become real if he kept going. Cyrus will hopefully figure everything out along the way. He will make it to Aevia, and he will heal his memories. No matter how long it took.

Cyrus pulled himself out of his mind, and into another quite horrible situation.
Of course this would happen. A smile tugged at his mouth for the most random reason ever and he grinned at Assasin,
"At this again, are we?"

She stared at him like she didn't know who she was looking at suddenly. Azalea was staring at him also.
"Cy?" She whispered, her lower lip trembling. His smile faded away, and he looked up at Azalea.
"I'm sorry Azalea." Instead of turning away as he thought she would, she continued to look at him with searching eyes,
"You have nothing to be sorry for Cyrus."

"Mora." Azalea threw her blade at Assassin, giving her the same wound as she gave her. Assassin moved in slow-motion as she gasped in pain, lowering the arrow she held. Pulling the arrow out of her leg, Azalea limped to Cyrus, pulled out her blade from Assassin's leg, and turned to her.

"I'll probably see you around. Bye for now." Cyrus stood stunned as Azalea touched his cheek.
"Lanuae Magicae."

The alleyway disappeared from sight.

🌺-🌺-🌺

They were in a dully lit room. Furniture was stacked against one wall, and two mattresses were tucked against another. Books were sprawled all over the place, and Cyrus braced himself for another memory-knife. It came swiftly, and he winced.

"You okay?" Azalea's voice entered his thoughts. Distracted, he looked up at her about to reply when he stopped mid-way. She had taken off her hood, letting her ashy brown hair fall down her shoulders. But it wasn't her hair that stunned him, though it was very pretty of course. It was her coral pink eyes, the exact same shade as the azaleas he had seen throughout the city.

"Cy— um, Cyrus? Are you alright?" He shook himself out of it, hoping he wasn't staring.
"Yep, yes, I'm good, sorry." Cyrus looked around one more time. He rubbed the back of his neck and bit his lip.
"I.. I should know where this is, shouldn't I."

Why am I bringing this up now? Congrats Cyrus, you just made this ten times more awkward.

Azalea let out a small laugh,
"Always putting your questions into statements." She become serious once more,
"But you shouldn't blame yourself. Another thing you did too often." She looked at him sadly, a broken look in her eyes. It pained him to look any longer.

Don't you see, Azalea? I broke you after I wasn't strong enough to survive whatever happened. How can't I not blame myself?

He broke eye contact, not looking back at her,
"I take it you know I'm going to Aevia." She nodded slowly, though he wasn't looking at her, and replied,
"I'm going with you."

Cyrus almost reeled back in surprise, though he probably shouldn't have been. The word that first slipped out of his mouth was,
"Why?" She pursed her lips.
"Cyrus, please look at me." He glanced up, but quickly looked back down.
"Cy. Please." He looked back up slowly, meeting her beautiful eyes.

"I promised you I would always stay beside you. I already broke that promise once, I'm not doing it again."
What am I supposed to say to that?

"And you obviously have questions, which I can answer to the best of my ability. You didn't do anything wrong Cyrus, especially not to me. So stop thinking that."

He reached out a shaky hand to her, still looking into her eyes,
"Friends?" She nodded firmly.
"Friends."

Cyrus was willing to try again, and so, it appeared, was Azalea. So he would try his best. He didn't need any convincing to let her join him. It was just the trust she had in him, the faith in her eyes the old Cyrus would come back. It made him feel unworthy. He wasn't what people had thought of him before. He was only a shell, and he was afraid to break their misplaced trust in him.

Cyrus had already cracked Azalea. Who else would he break? He didn't want to disappoint anyone, especially those around him. He had to hope that he, just how he is now, would be enough to get through.

A/N: Halfway to 8k heh. Sorry for my slow writing, hope you enjoyed! Have a great day 👍