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ajournalformybrother · 4 years

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Chapter 2

"Wake up," a man says, sounding deep. "Wake up."

I open my eyes and see the wooden ceiling seemingly zooming itself out from my view.

"Compose yourself, kid, we'll leave in less than an hour," says the voice again.

I'm lying on a very soft bed, half of my body covered in a white blanket made of wool. To my left is wooden wall garnished in dark brown, to my right is the man sitting on a wooden stool. A male Elf with short, blond hair combed in a stylish wave. He is wearing a brown, long-sleeved tunic with knots on the middle, and brown slacks tucked in soil-coloured boots. His blue eyes are slightly slanted, his nose high-bridged, his lips small and thin, and his jawline bony and pointed. He has a bulked up body composition, giving me a hunch that he's a soldier of some sort. He is sitting near the door, a couple of steps away from me. We're inside a plain-looking small room where there's nothing but the bed and the two stools surrounding a wooden table. An oil lantern sticks on the door, and a square window stands on the opposing side of the wall.

I sit up slowly and try to feel the wound on my left torso. It is covered with a white patch of glossy cloth, tainted with bits of dirt and blood seemingly mixed up. I notice I'm wearing my black shirt now, and when I pull the blanket away from my legs, I sigh as I see my army fatigues.

"Quite heroic, are we? Is that how people act where you came from?" The man is looking at me like I am prey. His muscular arms are crossed in front of his chest as he sits in straight posture. "Taking two Drows head-on. I admire both your bravery and stupidity."

I ignore his statement which sounds as both a complement and an insult. If he's there and I'm here he must be the one who patched me up when I passed out. "Where am I?" I ask, looking at him straight.

"You're inside my house. For almost an hour, that is. Are you sure that's the question you want to ask?"

I gulp. There are lots of questions I want to ask, but I'm not sure if it's necessary. I stay silent and take a quiet breath as a shift my sight to my lap.

"No need to hide anything. I know what you are, kid. I needed to pull the cursed infection from your wounds to prevent it from spreading out. It's the least of your concern now."

"I guess I should thank you, then," I bitterly reply. "What now?"

"Well, Human, let me ask you the same question." He pauses as he looks intently at me. "What now?"

I don't know. I want to say I don't know. I don't understand a lot about this place, and my mindset still lingers on scavenging and stealing to survive.

"You save my sister's life, and for that I'm obliged to help you. Not that I want to. Rosylle begs me to. She said you're her saviour, and we need to return the favour in whatever way we can," the Elf explains. "Do you know where you are?"

I shake my head. I don't even know why I rushed to that young Elf's place when I heard her cry for help. Must be my instincts ..or something different entirely.

"Inside your house?" I answer bluntly.

He ignores me. "This, kid, is Xenor. A world parallel to yours, as we were told. Not really parallel. It's a lot smaller. There's currently a war, but I guess you already know that after you fought two ambushers of the enemy." He's waiting for a response, and when he figures it won't come, he continues. "There is a diverse classification of people here. Race is a better term. Blah blah blah. What you need to put in your mind is that no one should know that you're not like us. Understand? The worst thing that they could do to you is to kill you on sight."

"I've already been seen by catwomen,” I claim, overwhelmed by what he said. "And I'm still here. Whatever that 'kill on sight' means I guess it's not working out.”

The Elf stands and walks towards me. I gulp again as he grabs my shirt by my right shoulder and suddenly tears it with his hand. He then points a finger at my bare shoulder, letting his index nail touch my skin as if he's sketching something. I feel a slight pain as blue light seemingly comes out of the rising figure. It then forms a drawing of a bluish leaf shaped like a spade in those cards people in my place used to play.

"There." The Elf releases his grasp as I forcefully pull away my shoulder. "No need to be grumpy, kid."

"You just tore my shirt off and tattooed my skin violently. I guess I should thank you for this too," I complain.

He sighs. "If we met in different circumstances I'd definitely crush that ungrateful mouth of yours. Listen carefully to what I'm going to say, as I'll just say it once." He waits for a response again. All I give him is a glare. "From now on, you're not a Human. You're a Dryad. That's D-R-Y-A-D. It's the only race here that looks exactly like you. No pointed ears, no tails, wings, fins, or anything. Just that." He nods at my leaf tattoo. "A leaf mark." He pauses as he exhales an irritated burst of air. "You'll blend in. You'll get to live another day, blah blah blah. Questions?"

"If I ask you to repeat what you said, are you going to repeat it?" I ask as an insult.

"Whoa. You got some grumpiness in you, kid. Best keep it to yourself if I were you." He walks back to his wooden stool. "Time for me to ask questions then. How did you get here anyway? Why did you come here? What is your motive?"

I have half a mind of telling the truth to this Elf, as I figure it would be no use to lie. The truth that I'm a bullet shot by my world. That alone holds everything in place. I'm no one; just an experiment with no goal.

Still, this man offered his help, which made me realise that it's just his curiosity that pushes him to ask such things.

"A portal. That's where I came from. A portal in a snowy place," I answer. "I'm afraid that's the only question I can attend to. Believe me or not I do not have a reason of coming here. I was forced. And if you want to imagine it in a literal way, I'm a piece of trash with no purpose thrown at your world. Happy now?"

"Yes. Really happy. I could also throw a party for you if you like." The Elf grabs something under the table, hidden from my view. He then throws a brown knapsack towards the bed I'm lying on. "Suit up. Hand me your earthlore clothes when you're done." He stands up and turns his back. "We're leaving."

"No," I reply. "I don't know you. I'll go my own way. We're even now. I saved your sister, you treated my wounds. That's it."

The man turns again to face me and walks forward. His composed figure radiates his authority, but the way he speaks betrays it, somehow. "I saved your hide from dying of a curse, provided you shelter, risked our safety by keeping an outworlder out of the public's eyes, and now am offering to help you adjust to this hell you just came into. I'd say I'd only do such thing for family, but you saving the only family I have somehow extends it to grumpy strangers."

Hearing that, I figure that young girl means so much to him. If she's the only family member he has left, I'm guessing that situations in this world are worse.

The Elf offers up a handshake and nods at it like some badass movie character. Strangely, I shake his hand with mine - an act I quickly question. "Your name?" he asks.

My name. Back in our world I was referred as 'S-26’ or 'Subject 26’. Years before that, I had a name, and I couldn't forget it, even after everything.

"Gab. Gabriel Angelo Gomez," I answer, and it feels like it was a thousand years since my name came out of my mouth.

"I am Ixion Alcarion. And now you know me, suit up for damn's sake before I had enough of your drama and grumpiness. I'll be waiting outside." He smiles, a small grin, then leaves the room, closing the wooden door with a slight bang.

I smirk. Behind that thick facade he's showing, this Elf ..Ixion ..seems to be a nice guy. Still, I mustn't let my guard down. This is still an unfamiliar place. I got very little information from this conversation: this world's at war, Humans are killed on sight ..so why didn't he kill me? Guess he loves his sister too much. And since when do they start killing Humans? Does it mean that there are others like me living in this world?

No use asking myself those questions, I figure. If I'd stick around this Elf and his younger sister maybe I could learn more about the real situation. So first things first, I need to be disguised as a Dryad. Which reminds me. One of the catwomen mentioned that word recently. They didn't know I wasn't one of them, but they did figure I smell differently. I sigh. It's like I'm a newborn with zero knowledge on this world. What else could I do?

Taking a deep breath, I open the knapsack and find the same kind of clothes Ixion is wearing. A commoner's clothes, or in another term, someone in the lower status wears. Looking at this room, I guess my host doesn't belong to exquisite and grand families, which is somewhat better. I plan to keep a low profile anyway.

I put on the grey, long-sleeved tunic and the brown slacks. As I stand up, I find the cloak and boots I stole from the merchants on the floor near the edge of the bed. I'm guessing Ixion got rid of the others as they won't fit with the status I'm now in.

My sword and batons are nowhere to be found, too, but I brush the thought away. I remember; I haven’t had the urge to use the sword’s blade on the grey Elves. Killing is out of the question for me. That is why I trained myself in the art of knocking out other people, despite what the people back in my world want: to kill if necessary. They did put a gun in my backpack which disappeared when I arrived here, along with the food, medicine, and survival kit. I’d say it was for the better, somehow. Not the food and other necessities though. Not my Rubik’s Cube.

Clipping my cloak around my neck, I open the door and am greeted by a plain kitchen slash dining room made mostly of wood. The way outside stands open a couple of steps from me, and before that an old, rectangular table surrounded by four chairs rests on the creaking floor. Two windows, one of which is shattered, show the darkness outside, with some bits of snow gently falling from above. Oil lanterns on the wall light up the whole room. There are very few decorations, most of which are small wooden figurines of weird trees and animals placed on the cupboard near the stone sink with a leaking pipe.

Ixion is sitting on one chair, trying his best to fit large scrolls inside another knapsack which is near to being torn. The young girl had just finished washing the pots and plates made entirely of what seems to be molded mud. She looks at me with those hazel-brown eyes as if she's happy to see me standing and alive. And not dying of a curse made of dirty ash.

"I suppose you figured out that we're not of the rich folks. Sorry to disappoint you, then," Ixion blabbers as he ties his knapsack close and tosses it behind him. He then nods at the young Elf. "Here's Rosylle. I bet you two haven't been introduced in the nicest of ways."

The girl turns to me and slightly bows, her long ears protruding from her glossy, blond hair. "Uhm ..hello. T-Thank you for saving me."

"Don’t mention it." That's all I can say. Somehow, I feel unease and at the same time comfortable seeing this young Elf. She reminds me of someone, but I stop myself from remembering. I turn my head to Ixion. "May I ask where we’re going?"

"We're going back. To my workplace, that is. I'll explain all the details on our way. Don't expect me to answer you if you ask me to repeat them, though." He smirks. "Just keep your head down and your hood on. It's quite a long and bumpy ride." He extends his hand towards me. "Your clothes."

I give my folded black shirt and army fatigues to him. "What are you going to do with those?"

"Burn them so no one will find out you exist." He then walks outside. "Ros, the lanterns and windows please, and lock the doors as soon as this grumpy kid decides to move his feet out."

"Yes, Brother," Rosylle responds, smiling at me briefly before entering the room I was previously in.

As soon as I follow Ixion outside, the lights inside the house burn out. The young Elf then goes out of the wooden door and locks it with a silver key. All of a sudden, my stomach grumbles so loud. I notice Ros' pointed ears flick in surprise. I haven't eaten since I entered that portal, and I'm feeling all drained out.

Ros grabs something from her small leather bag hanging by her waist: a large, folded leaf. "Here you go. It's the least I have as Brother told me not to get too many. There is food at Brother's workplace, though, so you can eat and eat and eat there." She gives an innocent smile.

I get the packed leaf from her and carefully unfolded it, revealing the white plum-like berries she picked recently; the very reason I'm placed in this situation. "Thank you." I hesitate to put some in my mouth, but I'm starving, so I throw a few in. They're delicious, like miniature strawberries with enough sweetness.

"They are called snowsugars, and they only grow on the boundaries of Lunasia and Arnein," Ros proudly explains.

"I can hear your chewing from here. You can eat on our way. Come on. We need to go fast," Ixion claims.

I glance at the tall Elf and see him putting out the flames off a makeshift stone chimney sticking out of one side of the house. I guess he had finished burning up my clothes, which makes me stand still for a moment. Somehow literally, the last of my humanity had turned to ash in seconds. I gulp. I'll be living in an unexplained world. Deep inside, I feel torn.

"Move it, move it, kids!" Ixion shouts at us as he hops on a roofless carriage made of wood.

We follow him and ride on the passenger seats which are lined vertically. I'm facing Ros on the opposite side, and Ixion's in front, holding what seems to be thin ropes which he whips as the whole cart moves. I swear I hear a whining of some sort of creature, but when I look what's beyond us I see nothing pulling the carriage. The sound of its feet appears like hooves, so I figure it's an invisible horse.

"Ceidnirs only show themselves during the day," Ros says upon looking at my surprised face. "Brother got one for free after being promoted, but they usually cost many many Argents."

"Argents are the ones that make you rich here, kid," Ixion follows without looking at us.

Argents. I figure it's the currency here. I wonder what they look like. Paper? Coin? Stone? Or are they transferred through ATMs or such. I laugh at the thought. I haven't seen any advanced technology since I came here, and I'm not surprised. This world is stuck in the middle ages of ours; an era I'd prefer. No guns, no bombs, no weapons of mass destruction. Or is it?

I look back and realize that the house I came into is isolated from the main town, which is a couple of blocks away. I can still see the creepy monolith, though every second that passes shrinks it until it's no more.

Our way is lighted by an odd-shaped lantern hanging beside Ixion. It has a roof which directed its light towards the road made of a single dirt path.

It takes a bump from the carriages' wooden wheels before I notice my surroundings. I can't forgive myself from being hungry up to the point that I become unaware of what's around me. We're following a path in the middle of large, creepy trees with roots entangling each other like snakes. What's weirder is that these roots never block the road, as if there is some sort of magical barrier that prevents them from advancing. Looking up ahead, they form a wall of roots with varying heights beside the pathway, which I stare at in quiet awe. Things here are mystical, but looking at the leaves of these trees that almost completely shroud us in darkness, I realise they look like the ones back in my world. Somehow. They're like the tattoo on my shoulder.

"So here's the catch," Ixion suddenly says. "First you need to know about your race. I mean, your race here. Dryads, remember?"

I nod, though only Ros sees me.

"Dryads have connections to trees and other plant life. They can phase in and out of one, and are able to communicate to each other while inside using root channels and vibrations. They make great spies, actually, and they serve as ones in the war," Ixion explains.

That sounds ..cool. I’m quite of a naturalist, and knowing what the inhabitants in this world can do with nature marvels me further. I can only listen intently and try to put everything this Elf says inside my head.

"They are born inside a tree, which means that a mother and a father dryad had .. uhm." I know what he's about to say, making me smile slightly. He hesitated for a second, remembering that his younger sister is with us. "So inside a tree is where a Dryad's born. What kind of tree, look at their shoulder marks and you'll know. Yours is called an arbitrium, a creeper just like the ones on our sides. No. Those are exactly arbitriums. Take a good look. It's where you were born. Inside one of those."

I know what Ixion is trying to do. He is coming up with a story; a story of how I came to be. In order to adjust to this world, I need to live in that false story he's making, as it would be the foundation of my existence here. A foundation made of lies.

"However, some Dryads 'get stuck' inside their hosts," he continues. "And only when the trees themselves weaken can the Dryads be free. They are called late bloomers. It can take days, months, years, decades, or forever. The late bloomers age as normal, but when they come out, they know nothing but speech and literacy. Trees are literate, strangely. The parents consider it fail labor, so they just abandon the child inside the tree where they ..'met'." I snicker at his choice of word. "You are one of those Dryads. Get it?"

"So basically I was just born today," I reply. "It would be a good cover just in case someone questions me of not knowing things around here."

"Yes. Good that you can think," he insults. "But, be aware, there are two kinds of people in this world: one group is born normally, and the other is gifted with their race's magical ability. There are a lot more people without magical abilities, not counting physique. Those without powers can still learn, though, but it requires utter dedication.”

Magical ability. That dark Elf I encountered used the ground itself to trap Ros. I wonder what other kinds are there.

"Unfortunately, there are no records of Dryads not having their ability. Meaning all Dryads are born with it, as it branches out to their means of reproduction. Late bloomers usually have a delay before they can use theirs. Weeks, months, the longest I've known never got the chance to use her ability for four years." Ixion whips the ropes, causing the carriage to turn left. I try to look at the pathway to the right, but the darkness quickly consumes it. "Late bloomers are very rare. VERY rare. So people consider them good luck, and enemies consider them trophies." He pauses. "When we arrive we need to have your name listed for census."

Census? Same vocabulary for population count, then. "And what would be my name? Gabriel Angelo?" I sarcastically ask. I just had my identity somehow restored, only to realise it might be taken away again considering the names of the people here.

"Yes. Gabriel," Ixion answers.

"Gabriel is a Human's name," I reply, quite surprised of his response.

"Is it? I had a friend named Gabriel who died while gathering intel in the south," he paused, shortly reliving some memories. “I thought you’re smart and all, but did you just generalize that the names of the people here sound like, what? Jumbled letters?”

“No,” I bluntly answer.

“Sure that most Dryads are named after plants, or shrubs, or anything related to that, but some want to diverge from the norms.” The sound of whipping emanates from Ixion’s position. “Can you just be thankful that your real name fits well to ours?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Ixion gives me a sharp glance. "Your moniker would be like us, as we found you and we're the ones who will take you in, Gabriel Alcarion. Sounds pretty awkward to me blah blah blah, but yeah. That would be your name from now on. No middle name of some sort, since you’re a late bloomer.”

Alcarion. I nod as I look at the carriage's wooden floor. I'm beginning to understand what my life in this world would be: a life of pretending. Still, this tall Elf never mentioned what kind of living I'm gonna do. I don't know what work he has, what kind of place are we headed to, and what would I do when somebody finds out. It makes me realise I'm totally dependent on these Elves. To think I can live here on my own, how foolish.

"Any more questions?" Ixion asks.

I shake my head in reply. "No."

"I'm sure you have lots. There are books in my workplace. Surely you know how to read?"

"If it's my language surely I .."

"Oh, there are three main ways of tongue here," he intervenes. "One is used very rarely, so never mind that. The one we're using is the common tongue, used throughout the region. The other is the Elfen, an advanced language for ancient runes and research. Each race has its own dialect. We also have two common forms of writing, and guess what, smart guy? They are named Elfen and common writing.” He scoffs, clearly to insult me of my previous generalization of their names. “Most of the books I have are written in common tongue, so help yourself once we get there."

Ros looks at me, smiling. "I'm pretty sure you'll adjust in no time. I'll help you too," she claims, her tone cheerful.

For the first time since I came here, I give a genuine smile. "Thanks."

There is almost total silence hours or so after that. Ros falls asleep on my lap, which I find really awkward. Still, there's a hint of comfort as I watch her dream peacefully to somewhere. Ixion just gives us a couple of glances every now and then, and I could see one side of his mouth as if he's smiling after seeing Ros asleep.

Eventually, we get out of the creepy dark forest, and what greets me next makes my eyes widen in awe as I stare from the elevated land we're on. In the darkness, the reflection of the large moon above stands idly on the crystal clear waters of a pristine lake in front of us. Beyond that, thousands of glittering lights shine in the distance. I could not make up the image as a whole, but considering the 'era' of this world, I picture it as a large city of Romanesque architecture. Yes. That's what I learned along with the physical training back in my world. Spires and towers of castles are scattered on every side, and among those are small houses and buildings made of bricks and stone, as what I would expect from this world. Abstract symbols of the eye are drawn vaguely on the tall wall that surrounds the city, extending from one end going to another, only hindered by the continuation of the arbitrium forest on both sides. From where we are, a long bridge divides the wide lake in two, serving as the main road towards the glorious city.

"This, kid, is Jasph, the City of Knowledge," Ixion proudly claims. "But that won't be our way. Our destination's over there." He glances to his right.

To our east, miles away, another castle of some sort stands between the lake and the forest, facing the city as if it is an isolated extension of Jasph. Obviously a lot smaller than the castles in front of me, this grey one has its own uniqueness. Three spires detach from its wide body, which I could see despite the distance. It has a large, dome-shaped platform built on top of the corner of the lake itself, connected to the body through a seemingly wide stone bridge. Cathedral windows flicker all around the grey castle, seemingly beckoning me to get near and see for myself what's beyond the bricks and stones that it is built upon.

I gulp. If I'd consider this whole area as a rectangle, half of the bottom part is the lake, the remaining upper part is Jasph, and the lower right corner is that grey castle, consuming a small portion of the lake's eastern part with its dome. I slightly doubt that this is a small world as what Ixion said. Somehow, in front of this large city along with its castles and buildings and spires and walls, I am the one who feels small.

Our carriage goes beside the lake, and as it strides I can't help but to stare at the beautiful city beyond. It's a sight in fairy tales, books, and movies, and it gives me a comfortable feeling. The nearing grey castle is still shrouded in mystery to me, and I know for a fact that I would be staying here with these two Elves.

After a while, we reach a small gate attached to the sides of the castle. Being in front of such architecture makes my head spin. It appears like a mountain of bricks stacked together.

I figure that we approached one of the three entrances. Ixion states that the main entrance is in front of the dome, which is actually a roofless coliseum. The remaining gate is on the other side, opposite of where we are.

"Workers and preceptors are the only ones allowed to use the western and eastern gates," Ixion explains. "Students are required to use the main one, unless there’s a necessity for them to use the sides.” He glances at a narrow pathway leading back to the forest on our right.

I turn my head to him. "Students? This castle is a school?"

"An academy, to be exact. Lilian Academy, top one in Arnein, the region we're in." He nods at the still sleeping Ros. "Gently shake her up. We'll be going inside." He then hops off the carriage and walks towards the gate.

I slowly tap Ros, who looks so innocent on my lap. She slightly opens her hazel-brown eyes and tries to close them again. "Hey. We're here. Ixion says we'll be going inside," I say.

Ros slowly gets up, her eyes still heavy. I figure it's so late at night, and kids her age should be asleep at this time. Which makes me wonder: how do they tell time here? Is it the same as ours? I hope so.

I get off the carriage and watch Ros stand timidly on the edge. I gently lift her up and place her on the ground. Just as I am about to follow Ixion, Ros suddenly holds my hand. I look at her, and I know that she'd done it unconsciously. I feel something inside me; something sad. I just hold back Ros' hand and walk with her towards the gate.

"She's prone to sleepwalk sometimes," Ixion says as we approach. "Get use to it." He smiles slightly, then grabs a ring of keys which he uses to open the gate in front of us. "Stay close. We're not that far."

As soon as Ixion pushes the door, the smell of paper wafts in the air. I follow him inside, gulping upon seeing thousands of books on both sides of the wide hallway of stone and cement. They are placed in tall, wooden bookshelves sticking on the walls, covering almost every meter wherever I look. There are desks and chairs placed on specific areas, giving me the thought that this is the library of the academy.

"The Archives," Ixion announces. "This is where I work."

I look around me. The ceiling is quite high, the walls rocky and thick, the floor made of granite. All these are garnished in dark brown, as if they're following a common theme. Rectangular bulbs serve as fluorescence across the long 'library'. There are no people, only us.

"Come here." Ixion lifts Ros and carries her with his arms. "Let's go, kid. I'm getting drowsy."

We walk through the corridors of the Archives as I admire its architecture. There are Greek pillars stationed a few meters from each other, holding the floor and the high ceiling in between. Semi-circular arches line above us, and triangular windows protrude from the allowances between the great bookshelves.

Looking at the books resting on each level, I no longer wonder why this place is called the City of Knowledge.

Upon reaching the end of the hall, we arrive at the West Trunk, as what Ixion calls. Square-shaped, the center of it has no roof and floor, just plain grasses. Numerous wooden benches are placed around a verdant tree with wide branches that I figure give shade to almost the whole open area during the day. The outer layer, where we stand upon entering, follows the quadrilateral pattern. Each of the sides has a door leading to somewhere.

"We just came from the Archives," Ixion explains. "The door to the left leads to the coverts, the one in front to the main hall, the one to the right is where we live. Four doors. Each Trunk has four doors. This academy has two Trunks, the West and East. Blah blah blah. I'll show you a map later, or tomorrow, or when I remember it." He then walks towards the door to our far right, still carrying the now sleeping Ros.

Knowing that, I figure that this castle's parts are built in patterns. I hope it is. It makes remembering so much easier and getting lost so much harder.

I open the door to our right for Ixion and Ros and follow them inside. It's a narrow pathway which finally leads to our destination: the spire. I guess this is one of those three towers I saw earlier. A spiral staircase clings to the wall, going higher and higher like a snake wrapped around a tree. I couldn't see the ceiling, as darkness envelops the further end of it. Only a few lanterns on the wall lighten the almost empty room. There's another door opposite of us, and another one to our right which Ixion orders me to open with his ring of keys.

"This is the West Spire. As early as now I'll warn you not to take the stairs towards the top. That is strictly forbidden," Ixion says, his voice solid. "All spires that you've seen in this castle are forbidden areas. When you're inside a spire, stay on the ground. Do not take even a single step up. Understand?"

I turn the key inside the hole, opening the door with a click. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

The room in front of us is dark. Ixion tells me to pull a chain hanging on the wall to my right. I extend my hand and try to search for it. When I touch something cold as steel, I pull it down with a slight force, turning on the series of lanterns that illuminated the whole room with a fading glow.

It is a lot smaller than the previous house. Rectangular in shape, its walls are dark brown as usual. A large, wooden table is in the middle, with scrolls and books scattered on top, and six small chairs around it. A longer than usual bunk bed made of wood and stone sticks on the edge to our right, almost occupying the whole width. An oval-shaped window protrudes near the ceiling of the right wall, which somehow allows the one on the upper level of the bed to see the other side. The sink and a couple of light brown drawers line the wall opposite of us. Different kinds of utensils and some fruits and vegetables rest on top of them. To our left is a dirt-coloured sofa almost as long as the bunk bed. Leaning against the wall, it appears really worn out. A door sticks from the remaining space of the left wall, which I think leads to the bathroom. A tall, wooden cabinet stands a couple of inches to my right, having a large mirror that reflects the sink in front of it. Decorations similar to the ones on the previous house line a cupboard to my left. Everything else inside is compressed, considering the small amount of space left.

Looking at the bunk bed, I remember my own room back in my world. I slept on the upper level while another person occupied the one below me. About ten bunk beds were placed on a single room, compressed too like this one. I somehow compared it to a prison on my first day there.

"Welcome home, kid," says Ixion, shaking me back. "You should have expected something like this, right?" He walks towards the bed and gently places Ros on the lower level. He slowly removes her cloak and then kisses her on the forehead. "You take the upper bed." He looks at me, waiting for a response.

"I can sleep on the sofa," I hesitantly answer. I don't want to take away a comfortable place from these Elves.

"Sofa?" Ixion stares weirdly at me. "If you mean the couch, then my answer is no. You sleep on the upper bed. I get up every now and then. I don't want to wake Ros up with sudden bed movements. Plus, the bed's quite old and might break on my weight. You’re light." He steps in front of the kitchen drawers and forages a couple of yellow fruits which he places on a wooden plate. "This is what we have now. Tomorrow's a feast though. Sit down."

Ixion signals me towards a chair as he puts the plate on the table. I follow. He then rolls the scrolls and sets aside the books on top of the cupboards. I feel uncomfortable and guilty. I'm being a burden to this brother and sister, and yet for both of them, everything else is normal. I put in my mind to leave them once I finally adjust. No. I'll pay them no matter how ridiculous it sounds. Then I'll leave.

"Eat up. No need to peel the skin."

I look at the yellow fruit on my hand. It's a mango of some sort with a crown made of leaves. Soft and tender, the texture of the skin is smooth as an apple. I take a bite and savour its sweetness. It tastes like an apple, but it somehow melts in the mouth. The good thing is that it has little to no juice, making it neat. Despite not being a fan of sweet food, there's a strange feeling that pushes me to want more; a feeling I won’t resist, so I get another piece after drinking from a bronze chalice.

"It's called a transmose," says Ixion, grabbing a fruit. "The most anticipated handpicked food here, maybe." He takes a bite. "By the way, is that the same time system in your world?" he asks with his mouth full, pointing at the top of the sink.

I never noticed it till now. Sticking on the wall just above the sink is a circular clock. It has 24 symbols written on the middle layer of the circle instead of the usual 12, and many more are written towards the edge. There are five arms, two of which remain suspended. The longest and also the thinnest seems to tell the seconds, and it moves in wide steps. The thicker but shorter one than the previous arm seems to move the same distance when the longest passes through the topmost symbol; must be minutes. The thickest and shortest one must be the hour, but looking at its many unfamiliar writings makes me shake my head.

"The fattest tells hours, the middle fat one tells minutes, and the stick one tells seconds," Ixion tries to explain, confirming my theory. "The symbols on the tip of the shortest one are actually numbers, 1-24. The ones on the outer layer, towards the tip of the longest, are numbers 1-60."

I see. Instead of resetting back to 12 after noon, the time system here continues until 24, similar to army time.

"Is it 23:50 right now?" I ask after studying it for a couple of seconds and counting the symbols.

"Wow. You learn fast, kid," the Elf praises.

I just nod at him in response. “Yeah whatever. Get ready to sleep. Bathroom's there if you need it." He points at the door beside the sofa ..the couch. "Help yourself. Towels behind you." He then settles on his own business with the scrolls on the table.

I remove my cloak, hang it on one of the hooks behind the door, and grab a light blue towel made of cotton-like material that seems softer and more absorbent.

Going inside the bathroom, I discover it looks weirder than the ones I knew. On the wall on the further end, a quadrilateral pool made of stone holds water coming from an almost submerged cemented pipe. About two feet deep, it's flowing endlessly, spilling the excess liquid on the small gaps surrounding it. It's not large enough for someone to lie, only a sitting or standing person would fit in. A wooden bucket rests on a small rock beside it, along with a green substance similar to soap that oozes some of its essence. A toilet made of concrete stands a step away from the pool, which somehow makes me chuckle for unknown reasons.

Sighing a deep breath upon learning that there's no mirror inside, I decide to wash my face before going to sleep. The soap smells of eucalyptus, or something. Whatever it's made of, it surely refreshes me.

I go out of the bathroom with the towel hanging on my shoulder. Ixion is writing something on one of the scrolls he grabbed from the knapsack he brought along. I wonder what kind of job he has in the Archives. A researcher, perhaps?

I'll know it soon anyway, so I brush it away and proceed to the bunk bed as quiet as I can be. Ros is sleeping peacefully, hugging a soft pillow near her chest. I smile wryly before climbing the stone ladder to the upper bed. I carefully fix my sleeping position, not wanting to disturb the young Elf below me. Lying my head on the surprisingly comfortable pillow covered in grey cloth, I think of the things that had happened on this very day. Too many. Too fast. And myself, too lucky.

Still, upon looking at the window beside me and seeing the stars painted on a part of the skies above, I wonder what would be next. Somehow, I have a feeling that life here would be hard; much harder than the one I had lived back on my world.

As I close my eyes, I realise it's better; being free here is better than being a prisoner of your own kind.

-End of Chapter 2: Wanderer

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ajournalformybrother · 4 years

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Chapter 1

Chapter 1 The light starts to subside. I open my eyes, only to find myself in a place of white and coldness - snow. My army boots dig lightly in the ground as I take a few steps forward. A high-pitched sound emanates behind me. Glancing, I realize the portal I used to get here closes with a final dazzle of light, leaving only the husk of its stone archway. No turning back now. It's cold. I'll freeze to death if I don't find shelter soon. Night is coming, I can tell, as the humongous moon I see above is currently beckoning the darkness to battle its radiance. Or is it? It is still bright, but not much. The sun is there, belittled by its sister on the other side of the sky. How weird. Majority of my supplies did not make it through. Just me, my clothes, the knife attached to my left boot, and the electroshock batons sheathed in my belt. How I wish my Rubik’s Cube made it through. I will miss it a lot. Unfortunately, these plain, black t-shirt and fatigues don't offer much warmth. I need to keep moving. I follow the snowy path in front of the archway, making sure that I keep my distance from the road to avoid any unwanted situation. My clothes’ color is against the snow, and I could only try to hide behind the trunks of these gigantic pine-like trees to avert myself completely from view. My right hand is slowly getting numb. If not for the years of training my lungs would freeze and eventually lose their purpose, too. I rest under the branches of a 'pine tree', hidden by its bulky trunk as wide as three people. My body is breaking bit by bit. I should have prepared better. But how? No one back there knew what lied beyond. People were sent, but no one returned. At first, many were trained; from childhood, that is, until the age when they are capable of handling their own. Apparently, only one person can fit through a portal, and only every two years can a portal be opened, so it's only the best of the best. For almost a decade they've been sending 'prodigies', not knowing what will happen to them or what the real purpose of the mission is. They are just told that "It's a different world," and I couldn't agree more, for I am the fourth prodigy. The fourth prodigy of a suicide mission with a one-way ticket, maybe. No. I need to survive. I've been doing that all my life, it's no different now. I’m watching the mists blow out of my mouth when I hear the sound of wheels turning, like that of a cart. I stand alert as ever despite the cold that will soon embrace me to death. The conversation is coming from the other side where the road curves on a snowy hill. I dash towards the tree nearest to the hill, pushing myself between the trunk and a large rock. Who knows what kind of creatures live in such place? "Is this where Hearthglen's Portal stood?" a voice of a man says. I'm surprised. There are people coming, and they speak my language. Half of me wants to reveal myself and ask for help, the other half pledges to do what I’m trained to do. The sounds of the wheels are louder now, almost in front of me. "You got that right," another man says. "It was built off-road, so if you want to see it we will .." "What? Leave our wagon here and risk it to wandering bandits?" the other intervenes. "We are a few miles away from the nearest town, scum! We need to deliver this or else we'll lose our jobs. No daddly-waddling." A low, bellowing laughter. "You are always overreacting, Dern. Bandits? Here in Lunasia?" This is it. They are close enough. I can still move my left hand. It's now or never. I leap from my hiding place and catch the two men in surprise. They yell in fear, and I almost, too, upon seeing their long, pointed ears, but I stick to the thing that needs to be done. I dash towards the one pulling the wooden cart and deliver a swift blow from my shock batons. A low grunt while electrified and he's down. Before the other man could react, I quickly shift my footing to strike his chest, electrifying and sending him kissing the ground. He's twitching. And there I stand between two unconscious bodies which I stare at for a moment. They are not ..human. Seemingly. Slender and a little taller, their faces are far beautiful for a man. Their ears are long and pointed, which almost caught me off guard if not for my conviction to steal to survive. Basing on what I read back in our world, these are Elves. The same Elves in movies, fairy tales, and books which everyone would think are parts of fantasy written for stories and entertainment. I figure that's no fantasy now. A sudden, cold breeze wakes me up to my senses. I grab the cloak of the first Elf. It is made of some sort of thick, white wool which I immediately wear and cherish along with the warmth it provides. I dart my eyes towards their wooden wagon. Its cargo is covered in a thick sheet of grey silk. I pull it and smirk at what I see - more cloaks, tunics, winter gloves, leather boots, weapons, bags, and other travel necessities all lined meticulously. Fashion here seems to be inclined in the Middle Ages. Plus, looking at these guys, I guess they are merchants. Lucky. Too lucky for me. I rummage at the set of clothing and grab my own - a woolen hooded cloak outlined in grey I tied in front of my neck, a fading white tunic I wear over my black t-shirt, and black silk pants I wear over my fatigues. Yes, I'll keep my original clothes with me, aside from my army boots, which I bury deep in the snow and are replaced with another black leather pair which gives more insulation. Dressing up like these Elves would increase my chances of not being discovered. I keep my hood on, though. I don't have long ears, which might break my disguise if ever sticky situations come to happen. Seeing a sword hidden in its grey sheath designed with feather markings, I quietly snicker as I put it near the girdle, just beside my batons. I made sure they are hidden underneath my cloak. I continue rummaging through the contents. No guns, huh? Good thing I trained in melee, too. Before I leave, I pull the Elves near their wagon, much to the protest of my arms. They won't freeze there, as I half-buried them in the things they sell. I at least owe them that much not to let them die in the snow. They'll wake up soon. I just hope they won't recognize or remember me when they do. I face the direction the merchants were supposed to traverse. More than a mile? I'll take my chances and head to the town they mentioned. If I would live my life here scavenging or ambushing people to survive, then so be it. I was taught to be unforgiving; to prioritize my own whatever the situation is. But still, I wasn't born that way. I pick up the silken sheet of the wagon and cover the cart along with the merchants. Sighing a deep breath, I continue through the snow. The road is seemingly endless, and it's getting dark. I've been walking for an hour or two. I really am grateful for being the luckiest person alive to encounter wandering merchants in harsh weather. I've passed through hundreds of these 'pine trees' already, and they are getting creepier. The ones around me now seldom have leaves, making them appear like tall, bald Christmas trees. The snow also starts to subside. I'm getting hungry. All the trees I've seen so far look the same; they have no fruits or anything. I tried to catch one critter in the snow which looked like a white rabbit with four tails, but it sprinted as fast as lightning the moment I took a step towards it. I then laughed at that decision. I can't cook anything in this weather, so catching meat is pointless unless I want to eat it raw. The only idea I think of is to steal until I figure out things on my own. I am treading carefully when I see lights in front of me. They are lanterns. I count three, slowly getting closer every second. I quickly move off the road and hide behind the trunk of one tree, with my head the only thing visible from the pavement. I want to see. This is getting repetitive. If I could catch these people off guard like the merchants I could scavenge for food or anything edible just to fill my empty stomach. I just need to wait for another opportunity to strike. The lights are about a block away now. The people carrying the lanterns are wearing the same kind of clothing as I do, but without their hoods on. A little closer, and my eyes are struck with shock as I stare at the passersby: three women carrying nothing but small leather bags hanging beside their waists. All have long hair, and what protrude from their upper heads surprise me as much as seeing the long pointed ears of Elves. The women have large cat ears. They stop parallel to where I am, and this allows me to notice their tails that waggle in the air like furry snakes. They are half-cats, no doubt. Elves are not the only ones living here then. "Come out, dear. We've seen you," says a playful voice of one woman as she turns her head towards the tree where I am hiding. I gulp at my situation. I pull my head back and start thinking. Or rather, start panicking. If they see me they would know I am different, and I can't figure what would happen after that. I can't just run. That would raise more suspicion. Taking a deep breath, I decide to come out of hiding, making sure I have my hood on. "I-I'm lost. Could you help me find my way to town?" I slowly walk towards them, studying their faces further. The ears of the woman in the middle flick as she raises her eyebrows. She then points at the direction they came from. "Town's right there. Just a short way after the curve," she says, her striped, beige tail suspended in the air. "Quite rare for someone to travel alone, especially during these times." I notice that the woman with a black tail to my right is looking at me intently, as if she had seen through my cloak and hood. "You smell different, and new," she claims, much to my surprise. "Can you remove your hood?" Knowing that my cover would be blown soon, I suddenly have the urge to fight, but considering that these cat women have keen sight and smell, I know that they have something more to their advantage. Mine was the surprise attack, and I lost it as soon as I saw their lanterns coming towards me. I have no choice but to oblige. I slowly pull my hood down and expect gasps or any aggressive reaction coming from the three cat women, but they seem aloof. "Oh, a Dryad. No wonder you smell different," the beige one says. "What brings you here?" "Stop the chatter," the woman with white ears and tail intervenes. "Move your feet. The carriages are still far." After rolling her eyes, 'beige tail' waves her hand and continues walking with her companions. Good thing they are in a hurry. Hearing my stomach grumble, I walk towards the curved path. A couple of minutes more and I notice the snowy ground fading to light brown dirt. There are small patches of green grass sprouting on the soil, which make me feel warm after realising that the sleets already stop falling. The bald pine trees are still there, though, but I see a few ones with wide, brown trunks and fresh, light green leaves. The environment is starting to shift, it seems, as I figure I'm traveling away from the snowy region. I continue to walk, careful to stay away from the road. Wouldn't want another encounter with this place's peculiar inhabitants again. After a while, looking a distance away, houses made of wood, bricks, and what appears to be thatch greet me from both sides. They come in different shapes and sizes; the ones nearest to me are small and have only a single story, while there are very few with second floors and such. I shy away towards a hill and hide behind a tree, peeking at what seems to be a small town. From where I am, I see some of the houses circling a tall monolith wrapped in thick, grey vines with blood-tainted leaves. The sight of it gives me chills. The road goes beyond that, covered by a wide bungalow which looks like a town hall of some sort. Oil lanterns hang on numerous wooden posts scattered throughout the town, providing enough light to push away the impending night. Everything follows a Medieval theme, and as I hold onto the sword sheathed to my belt, I can't help but wonder if I traveled back in time or not. Aside from the crimson monolith, another thing that makes me shiver in both awe and shock are the townspeople. No one looks human to me. Absolutely no one. I can sight the occasional Elves, the ones with cat ears, and a few short, composed men with long beards that stand a little below an average person's chest. Dwarves, it seems. Which makes me wonder ..what kind of world is this? There are too many varieties of mankind compared to ours, which is divided only by ethnicity. I feel my soul tremble as I realise I might be the only Human to exist here. Still, watching the townspeople do all sorts of things; trading, eating, talking, laughing; things that you'll see in a typical town, makes me think that somehow, a bit of this craziness is normal. Taking a deep breath and exhaling it in a long burst of white mist, I begin studying the pathways of the small town. The main entrance is connected to the road where I came from, and it goes to the center where the monolith is. From there it branches to at least three more roads, two on opposing sides and one going through the town hall, which I figure extends farther, though I'm not sure how far. I can't determine the exact size of this town unless I climb a tree - a thought I shake off. Still, there's no higher ground than the hill I'm standing on, so I decide I need to get closer. My eyes then dart to the numerous alleyways between the houses. Those would be perfect spots to hide while I learn how things work here. If I'll be lucky again I can steal a thing or two from a passerby. I just need to be really careful not to draw attention to myself or else I'm better off as a boy frozen to death in the snow. "Help! Somebody!" A girl's voice. A young girl, east. Keeping my hood on, I sprint towards the sound, which came farther from the town. Passing through the shadows of the creepy trees, I arrive at a small lake surrounded by fruit-bearing shrubs with white leaves. A couple of lanterns hung on the branches, providing light around the area. As I hide again behind a tree, for the 'nth time' since I came here, I see a young Elf trembling, a fallen straw basket turned upside down lying near her feet. She has short, blond hair and wears a moss green cloak over her brown tunic. Berries of some sort are scattered on the ground, and as I look at them I notice that the girl's right foot is trapped between a raised part of the snow-faded soil, as if it magically came to life and clamped her limb in it. "Help! Please, somebody!" She begins to cry. I'm about to approach her when two figures leap from the branches of the tree parallel to where I am. For the 'nth time' again I am shocked of what I see: they look like Elves, but with grey skin and dark eyes. They seem to be the darker version, I suppose. Both are men and are carrying swords curved like fish hooks. They are wearing leather vests with buttons in the middle as opposed to wool, which the townspeople (and me) possess. "Ohooo-hoo. A fresh kill," says the one with dark hair reaching his shoulders. I can't help but to cringe at his shaky voice. "What do you have there, little Elf? Wandered too far from town?" "Please please. Let me go. I was just picking berries," begs the girl, trying to pull her foot away from the clamped soil using her hands. "You grow those berries yourself, don't you?" says the other dark Elf with a pointed chin. "We could've used someone like you." "No, please no." The young girl’s tears bathe her face now, a sign of her dread and nervousness. The two dark Elves walk towards the trapped Elf, laughing and swinging their hook swords wildly in the air to further scare her. As soon as they are a couple steps away from the panicking girl, I jump out of my hiding place and quickly unsheathe my batons, electrifying the long-haired one as soon as I reach them by surprise. A loud grunt is heard as the other dark Elf tumbles away from me. His companion lies knocked out on the snow-faded ground. "Vus servor!" the remaining dark Elf yells. He then stomps the soil with his boot, creating a small fissure that crawls towards me. I figure that whatever magical ability this is, it might be the same one that trapped the girl behind me. As soon as the crawling cracks are a couple of meters away, I gather my momentum and strike my sword to the ground, using it as a leverage to strike the dark Elf with my baton. I hit his chest, and we both fall to the ground with a hard thud. I immediately rise and walk towards my sword, which is now clamped between the solid soil. I try to pull it with all my might, but my young arms won’t let me, so I just leave it be. I then face the coughing dark Elf lying on the ground. He’s still shaking. He's groaning. When I'm a foot away from him, he looks at me with his light eyes. My hood doesn't cover my face anymore, it seems, as he appears shocked as he sees what I am. Or is it because he fears for his life? Nevertheless, I ready my batons and strike him on his chest. He yells in pain and lies with his back on the soil. He then passes out, his mouth still wide open. I walk towards the young Elf, who's trembling in fear. Her hazel-brown eyes are shaking as I approach her with my hands and clothes dusty and bruised. Halfway, I suddenly feel a burning pain on the left side of my body - my stomach. I look at it, only to see a horizontal wound that tears through the cloth, revealing my bleeding flesh seemingly covered in what seems to be dirty ash. I must have been slashed when I leaped at that dark Elf. I feel weakened, and my head starts to spin. I try to stand using my weapon as support, but slowly, my body turns heavier than it should be. I reach the young girl when I feel a sudden explosion inside my head. My eyes become the heaviest things, and I can only hear my body hit the ground as darkness takes the whole of me .. -End of Chapter 1: Arrival

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